Chapter 5

Elena's POV

Father agreed to both my conditions in the end.

Stepmother's expression soured, but she didn't dare argue further in front of him. Tight-lipped, she sent someone off to gather my mother's belongings.

Vicky held Ryan's coat as if it were a priceless treasure, long past caring what I took.

I went back to my room and closed the door. Finally, a moment of quiet.

This was the room I had been kept away from for so long.

Small and remote, the window looking out on a tall, bare tree in the back courtyard, not much moonlight finding its way inside.

And yet I stood there and felt, for the first time in ages, something like peace.

At least here there was no Ryan.

No calculations hidden behind his gentle smile.

In my last life, during the height of our closeness, I had once begged him to help me reclaim my mother's inheritance.

He had held me and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his voice tender enough to break my heart.

“Elena, don't make things ugly with your family over material things.”

“I don't want people saying you married into a powerful family and immediately turned on your own family.”

I had been so touched. I believed he was protecting my name, thinking of everything for me.

Now I understood. He wasn't thinking of me at all.

He just didn't want Vicky to have to give back the antiques and jewelry she had long since coveted and claimed as her own.

A heavy jewelry box had already been set on the table.

I opened it and looked inside.

A ruby brooch, pearl earrings, my mother's favorite sapphire-and-diamond bracelet — all of them quietly at rest inside.

These things should have been mine long ago. Stepmother and Vicky had held onto them for years.

I closed the box and let out a cold, quiet laugh.

Tonight, those two women would probably be too sick with loss to sleep.

The next day, I went out as arranged.

Per Father's plan, I was going in Vicky's place to meet her original fiancé.

His name was Jason, a self-made man from the human quarter who had built himself a name in commerce.

Vicky had despised him from the start.

She couldn't understand why she had grown up surrounded by the vampire nobility's galas and gatherings, only to end up promised to an ordinary human.

But our family had served the vampire world for generations.

Marriages and alliances had never been ours to decide.

Looking back now, this engagement had probably been Ryan's doing all along.

If Vicky married a vampire, Ryan remarrying her after my death would set tongues wagging throughout the vampire nobility.

But if she was only the wife of a human, that was so much simpler.

A vampire prince wanting to take a human merchant's widow? Who would dare say a word.

The thought of those blood-red eyes of Ryan's, always warm, always smiling, sent a chill down my spine.

He had performed for four years straight.

Right up until Vicky's blade entered my chest, I hadn't been able to believe he had never cared for me at all.

He was far too calculating.

In this life, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and him as possible.

Once the wedding was done, I would have to start working out how to move farther from vampire territory altogether.

The car stopped in front of a white manor beside the river.

Jason was already waiting at the door.

He wore a pale grey suit, tall and composed, his features even and mild, nothing like the crass, money-obsessed merchant the rumors suggested.

He carried himself with a quiet exactness, and even his smile was clean, not a trace of presumption in it.

My first impression was not unfavorable.

A pity that in my last life, not long after Vicky married him, he had fallen seriously ill. His health had never recovered, and he died young.

Vicky had been a widow while still in the prime of her youth.

By then, of course, Ryan had been waiting for her.

Jason led me into the sitting room and poured the tea himself.

He studied me for a moment, then spoke quietly.

“You're not Vicky.”

My fingers went still for just a second.

Jason showed no hostility. He only gave a mild smile.

“You're Elena, aren't you?”

I looked at him, keeping my polite smile in place.

“What makes you say that, Mr. Jason?”

He didn't answer right away. He simply slid the teacup across to me.

“Miss Vicky doesn't seem to extend this kind of courtesy to ordinary human men.”

I said nothing.

He paused, then continued, his tone unhurried.

“Actually, we met a few times when we were children. You may not remember.”

“If I were to choose — I always hoped my wife would be you.”

Something inside my chest was gently jostled.

I looked at his calm smile and felt my breath falter, just for an instant.

But I steadied myself quickly.

I had already died once for a man's tenderness.

No matter how pleasant the words, I would not trust them easily.

I set down my teacup and smiled.

“Mr. Jason is flattering me.”

He saw through my deflection, and only said softly, “Forgive me. That was presumptuous.”

Afterward, he took me out to the terrace.

The wind off the river was gentle. In the distance, the lights of the human quarter glittered.

We didn't discuss the engagement again. We didn't mention Vicky.

He simply pointed out the scenery in a courteous, unhurried way, and arranged for a car to take me home before dusk.

That kind of measured restraint surprised me.

When I got home, Jason had already sent a gift: two dresses, delivered with a short note.

One deep red. One wine red.

The message was brief.

[Red suits you.]

I held the note and stood still for a moment.

It was only when I went to change that I noticed, in the mirror, a small tear in the back of the dress I'd been wearing that day.

I touched the tear with my fingertips, and understood.

He had seen it.

He hadn't said a word. He hadn't let me feel embarrassed.

I looked at the two red dresses laid out on my bed and stood there for a long time without moving toward them.

In this life, I had told myself not to trust anyone's kindness.

But Jason seemed different from what I had imagined.