Chapter 3

Beau scoffed, turning his arrogant gaze on me.

"Besides me, who else is left that even qualifies?"

He then smirked, a cruel twist of his lips. "Since the Oracle doubts, I'll prove it to you."

His confidence was unsettling.

It made me pause.

Could it be?

He must also be reborn.

That was the only explanation for this level of certainty, this specific challenge.

He strode towards me, Chantelle still clinging to him.

He reached out and touched the Locket.

Immediately, it flared with a brilliant, almost blinding golden light.

The same light it had shown for him in my previous life, after my intervention.

Beau' s smirk widened. "Satisfied, Oracle? I am the Locket's choice. If you behave, I don' t mind including you in my household, but Chantelle will be my number one."

His words were a deliberate echo of the humiliation I was supposed to endure.

Antoine looked conflicted, his anger warring with the Locket's apparent decision.

Beau's mother interjected smoothly, "Darling, the Locket has chosen our heir. For the sake of our legacy, perhaps the Oracle must make a small compromise."

Before I could speak, Chantelle burst into tears, a picture of fragile innocence.

"To have Beau's affection is more than I deserve," she sobbed, looking at Beau with worshipful eyes.

"I want nothing but to be near him. How could I dare compete with Oracle Luna? If we are both in his life, I will serve Luna devotedly. I will be like a sister to her."

Beau, visibly moved by her performance, glared at me.

"You call yourself an Oracle, yet Chantelle shows more grace and humility. Must you use your position to bully the vulnerable? Is this how your Boudreaux family operates? Scheming and heartless?"

There it was.

Already, I was being painted as the villain, the jealous shrew.

Antoine looked swayed by Chantelle' s act and Beau' s righteous anger.

I smiled faintly, a small, polite curve of my lips, and curtsied.

"Patriarch, Beau and Miss Dubois share a profound connection. I am willing to honor their love."

Beau raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my easy acquiescence.

Last time, my jealousy over Chantelle had led to constant, bitter fights.

He expected resistance, a scene.

This time, Luna would gladly let them have each other. Let them burn in their own drama.

I glanced at the Locket in my hand.

Its brilliant gold was slowly, almost imperceptibly, starting to tarnish around the edges.

A hint of darkness, like a creeping rot, was seeping in.

"However," I continued, my voice still even, "whom Beau chooses to associate with is his concern, not mine, as..."

Chantelle suddenly interrupted, clutching her head dramatically.

"Beau, darling, my head! It's splitting, like needles are pricking my brain..."

She swayed, looking like she might faint.

Beau, all anxiety and concern, swept Chantelle into his arms.

"Chantelle! What's wrong?"

He rushed from the room with her, forgetting any formalities, forgetting his father, forgetting me, forgetting everything but her.

A familiar pang. Not of jealousy, but of memory.

Chantelle was always his priority.

But did Chantelle feel the same depth of devotion for him?

I knew the answer.

Last time, Chantelle wasn't content with being Beau's secret love, his mistress waiting in the wings.

While he pined for her after their "official" separation – a move to appease the family initially – Chantelle had tried to seduce the then-Patriarch, Antoine' s predecessor, his own father.

She wanted to become the true Devereaux matriarch, not just a consort.

She was discovered, of course.

And quietly disposed of. Her body was found in a swamp, a grim end for her ambitions.

Beau, tragically unaware of her treachery, had blamed me. He thought I had her murdered out of jealousy.

That accusation had sealed my fate.

I turned back to Antoine, presenting the Locket.

It was now almost entirely a dull, tarnished black.

The beautiful gold was gone, replaced by an ugly, sinister darkness.

"Patriarch," I said, my voice resonating with the Locket's silent judgment. "The Locket turning black signifies a deceitful heart and a propensity for cruelty. Such a person is unfit to lead the Devereaux empire. They would bring ruin, not prosperity."

Beau's mother gasped, her face contorting in fury.

"Nonsense! My Beau is not like that! He has a noble heart! You're bitter because he loves another! You're seeking revenge for being slighted! Patriarch, these old superstitions can't be trusted! This girl is manipulating you!"

Antoine ignored her, his face deeply troubled as he stared at the blackened Locket.

"All eligible heirs have been tested," he murmured, his voice heavy with worry. "Yet the Locket has chosen no one suitable. Is our legacy to falter? Is there no one?"

I shook my head, a small, confident smile playing on my lips.

"No, Patriarch. There is one more."