Chapter 3

Every day, I got thousands of private messages through the backend. Most of them I couldn’t be bothered to read.

Ethan’s was different.

He wrote: “Your style sounds exactly like Midnight Lantern.”

What he didn’t know was that I was Midnight Lantern.

Later, he told me he was the CEO of Starlight Media. He complained that Midnight Lantern’s adaptation fees were outrageously expensive, then asked whether the film and TV rights to the novel on my author page were available.

That was how we ended up adding each other on WhatsApp.

Online, I was nothing like I was in person.

Behind a screen, I was bold, fast-talking, and impossible to stump. I could volley jokes, memes, and sarcasm all day long. Ethan used to say that after a long day at work, talking to me for a few minutes was enough to help him unwind.

And I liked the version of myself I could be with him.

Later, he bought the rights to one of my short stories and invited me to help adapt it for the screen.

That was the first time we met in person.

He stared at my bright red ears and laughed for what felt like forever.

“How come you look like a completely different person offline? You’re so shy you can barely raise your voice. But... it’s kind of cute.”

I’d been socially anxious since I was a kid. He was the only person I could be around without feeling drained.

On my twenty-seventh birthday, he confessed he had feelings for me.

When I said yes, Summer immediately threw cold water on the whole thing.

“A family like the Pierces? Their future daughter-in-law has to be polished, charming, good with everyone. You’re the kind of person who won’t even open the door for a delivery driver. You really think you can handle that?”

I didn’t believe her.

I signed up for confidence classes. I forced myself to go to small book signings. I stood in front of a mirror and practiced toasts hundreds of times.

I broke myself apart and rebuilt myself piece by piece, all so I could squeeze my way into his world.

And then he turned around and took someone else’s hand.

Chloe’s laughter drifted in from outside the window.

I glanced over.

Ethan had obviously managed to cheer her up. He was rubbing the top of her head as he walked her toward the garage, probably taking her out shopping.

I looked away and opened my email box.

An admissions application to the Ovest Institute of Letters had been sitting in my draft folder for six months.

I hit Send.

The floating comments appeared again.

[What is she typing now? Why is that all in French?]

[She’s definitely plotting something. No way she’s given up.]

I couldn’t care less about the comments and their wild guesses.

I closed my email and opened the document for Darkwater.

Three chapters left.

My fingers settled on the keyboard, and I started typing.

3

Two days before the family recognition banquet, Chloe knocked on my door.

She handed me a dress covered in rhinestones and sequins, bright pink to the point of being blinding.

The fabric was expensive—good quality, no question.

But it was nothing like the understated clothes I usually wore. On me, it would look awkward and wrong.

I didn’t take it.

“I already have a dress.”

I’d said before that I didn’t want a banquet at all. They insisted on holding one anyway.

Chloe’s eyes reddened on cue.

“Don’t you like it, Nina? I just wanted everyone to see how much the family cares about you.”

From the sofa, Mr. Bennett threw down the magazine in his hand.

“Chloe skipped the Aurora Prize prep seminar just to pick out a dress for you. Whether you like it or not, you’re wearing it. It’s from her heart.”

I glanced at Chloe.

She wrote web novels too, and she had a big following.

But I’d skimmed a few of her books before. They were mediocre at best—nothing that matched the level of hype around her.

Then at some point, the quality of her work had suddenly improved. But the writing style had changed several times too, so much that it felt like different people had written them.

I said nothing.

I took the dress and nodded.

Then I turned around and sent Summer a message:

[Get me a dress for the banquet.]

The day of the banquet, I crouched near the entrance of the hotel, one hand pressed to my stomach, my face pale.

“My stomach hurts. You guys go in first. I just need a minute.”

Mr. Bennett muttered, “Always something with you,” and went inside with Mrs. Bennett, Chloe, and Ethan.

The second they were gone, I straightened up.

The dress Summer had sent that morning was already waiting in the car.

A silk gown in smoky gray.

A one-of-a-kind couture piece once worn on the Cannes red carpet by award-winning actress Ivy Lindsay. Silver-thread night-blooming flowers were embroidered along the waist. It was from Ivy’s private collection—something money alone couldn’t buy.

I changed and walked into the ballroom.

The entire room fell silent, as if someone had cut the sound.

Ethan was standing beside the head table. His champagne glass froze halfway to his lips.

Chloe’s fingers tightened around her own glass until her knuckles turned white.

Someone nearby recognized the gown and whispered in amazement,

“Isn’t that the custom piece Ivy Lindsay wore on the red carpet? It was a limited one-off. You couldn’t buy that even if you tried.”