All Chapters of The Butterfly Crown:The Return of Seraphine Vale : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

It has always been like this after Isabelle Moretti-Vale(mother of Seraphine)passed away. Nothing changed in the house.The Mable floors still shimmers under the crystal chandeliers. The staircase still curved like a swan's neck toward the second floor. The air still carries the faint scent of lilies from the garden.But the warmth has disappeared. Love is gone. In its place stood silence and humiliation. A new mother whose glare could kill and a sister she didn't know was born to her father a year after she was born.Seraphine Vale is standing barefoot in the center of her room,the silk curtains swaying to the rhythm of the evening breeze. The sun had already ducked below the horizon,melting into a sea of gold and crimson. Downstairs, a flurry of activities floated upwards.ro She turns twenty today.The servants busily packed things to be sent to Debouch Hotel, a magnificent hotel for hosting rich banquets among the upper echelons in the society.Seraphine kneels on the floor, h

Six years can erase the existence of a person.Or create one.Seraphine Vale got down from the plane as a woman no one had ever met before.Her figure was no longer fragile and timid — it carried the full bloom of maturity. Her waist remained slender, but her curves were more pronounced with quiet strength. Her skin retained its luminous milky tone, now set in contrast against her long midnight hair that flows past her hips like silk in shadow.Her steps were majestic.Measured.Each movement carries certainty and a powerful aura.Both men and women at the airport were turning to look at her as she passed. She did not look back.That evening, the Vale estate was glowing with celebration.It was Harold Vale’s mother’s birthday.A banquet of wealth, status, and inherited arrogance.The matriarch sat at the center of the grand hall under the cascading crystal light, her posture rigid with shrew and authority. She had never liked Isabelle Moretti. She had never liked Isabelle’s daughte

Night rested over the city like velvet.On the upper balcony of her new villa, Seraphine Vale is still standing motionless under the silver wash of moonlight. The red silk robe wraps around her body like liquid flame, its silk fabric clinging to her waist and flowing open slightly at her long legs. One shoulder was bare. Her hair, loose and heavy from a shower, spilled down her back past her hips.In her hand, a glass of red wine caught the light like blood.She did not drink immediately.She watched.The city stretches endlessly before her – lights flickering, engines murmuring, people moving without knowing a storm had returned among them.Her fingers tap the crystal rim of the glass once… twice.Then she lifts it to her lips.A quiet sip.Her phone vibrates against the marble railing.She did not rush to answer.When she finally picked it up, her voice was calm. “Speak.”“Everything is ready,” the male voice on the other end said. “Lydia’s agency confirmed your selection for the ru

By sunrise, the city was already awake with her image.Screens on buses replayed the floating cape. Digital billboards froze on the moment the butterflies crowned her. Phones lit up in cafés, taxis, elevators.People didn’t just watch.They reacted.Two students nearly spilled coffee over each other while replaying the clip.A fashion blogger screamed into her camera, “Who IS she?”A news anchor leaned forward, voice sharp with excitement.“Overnight sensation, the woman now called the Butterfly Queen.”The video looped again.And again.And again.Inside her villa, Seraphine stood before a mirror while fastening the cuff of a sleek black blouse. The fabric hugged her shoulders with sharp precision. A high-waisted skirt fell straight to her ankles, slit along one side. Her hair flowed freely, heavy and smooth.She looked composed.Untouchable.But the world outside moved like a storm.Her phone vibrated across the marble table,notifications flooding faster than they could be counted.

The lights flickered once.Then steadied.But the elevator didn't move.A mechanical hum vibrated beneath their feet,then died.Silence rushed in like water filling a sealed room.Seraphine didn't step back.Even with the space suddenly too small, she held her ground,chin lifted, gaze fixed on the closed metal doors. Controlled. Deliberate. The kind of stillness that wasn't peace but precision.Lucian stood a breath away.Close enough that she could feel the shift in air when he moved. Close enough that pretending otherwise would have been embarrassing for them both."You always make dramatic exits?" His voice was low. Unhurried.Seraphine didn't turn immediately. Her fingers brushed lightly against her side—a small, private anchor."I prefer intentional ones," she replied.A faint click sounded from somewhere above them. Nothing changed.Lucian's eyes flicked to the control panel, then back to her. "You're not worried."Not a question. An observation.She turned then. Slowly. Her icy