Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up with the phantom feeling of a heavy diamond ring on my finger. I flexed my hand, the skin bare, and the reality of my situation crashed down on me again.

I was back, and everything was happening just as it had before. A week later, after a whirlwind of carefully orchestrated events by Sophia, the fake scandal hit the papers. A doctored photo, a paid-off witness. My engagement to David was shattered, my reputation was in tatters, and the Thorne family, to "save face," proposed the only possible solution: a marriage between me and Julian.

Just like that, I was living in the Thorne mansion. It was a palace of polished marble and cold silences, a place where I was tolerated but not welcomed. My days started with the chilling politeness of the staff and the oppressive quiet of the long hallways. I felt like a ghost haunting someone else' s life.

My first breakfast with the family as a resident of the house was an exercise in humiliation. I walked into the cavernous dining room to find them already seated. Mr. Thorne was hidden behind a newspaper, Mrs. Thorne was inspecting her manicure with a frown, and Chloe was scrolling through her phone, a smirk on her face. Julian' s chair was empty.

"Good morning," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the stillness.

Mrs. Thorne looked up, her eyes cool. "You' re late. We eat at eight o' clock sharp in this house."

"I apologize. I wasn' t aware," I replied, taking a seat as far from her as possible.

Chloe snickered. "I guess they don' t have schedules where you come from."

I ignored her, placing a napkin on my lap. A maid silently poured me coffee. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. I knew this was a test. In my first life, I had shrunk under their disapproval, desperate for a kind word. Not this time.

"Sophia is coming over for lunch," Mrs. Thorne announced, not looking at me. "She' s helping me plan the charity gala. Since you have nothing to do, you can assist her." It wasn' t a request.

I took a slow sip of my coffee. "I' m afraid I can' t. I have a meeting with a client about the museum annex project." It was a lie, but a necessary one. I had to establish my independence from the very beginning.

Mrs. Thorne' s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "You have a job?"

"Of course," I said simply. "I' m an architect."

Chloe finally looked up from her phone. "For now. Mother, you can' t possibly let her keep working. What would people say? Julian' s wife, working like some commoner."

Before I could respond, a sudden commotion at the doorway saved me. A small dog, Chloe' s yapping Pomeranian, darted into the room, followed by a flustered maid. The dog ran circles around the table before leaping directly onto Chloe' s lap, knocking over her glass of orange juice. The juice went flying, splashing across the table and soaking the front of my white blouse.

The hot sting of the liquid was nothing compared to the sting of their reactions. The maid gasped in horror. Chloe shrieked, but not in concern for me. "Oh, my dress! This is silk!"

Sophia, who had arrived just in time to witness the scene, rushed forward. She completely ignored me, fussing over Chloe. "Oh, poor Chloe! Are you alright? Let me help you." She dabbed at Chloe' s dress with a napkin, shooting me a look that was a perfect blend of pity and admonishment. "Eleanor, you should have been more careful. You were sitting right there."

The implication was clear, in front of the staff and her family, Sophia had made it my fault. I was the clumsy oaf who had somehow caused this. Mrs. Thorne glared at me, her lips a thin line of displeasure. "Go and change. You' re making a scene."

My blouse was ruined, a sticky, orange stain spreading across the fabric. But I didn' t move. I looked directly at Chloe, my voice calm and even. "Your dog knocked over your juice, Chloe. It was an accident."

Chloe' s face flushed with anger. "Are you blaming my dog? You' re just clumsy!"

"I' m stating a fact," I said, standing up. I peeled the sticky fabric away from my skin. "Now if you' ll excuse me, I have to get ready for my client meeting."

I turned and walked out of the room, feeling their hostile stares on my back. Sophia followed me into the hall, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Eleanor, are you okay? Don' t mind Chloe, she' s just spoiled. But you should be more careful, you know. You need them to like you."

"I don' t need them to like me, Sophia," I said, turning to face her. "I just need them to leave me alone."

Her mask of sweetness slipped for a second, revealing the hard, calculating woman beneath. "You' re playing a dangerous game, Eleanor. You wouldn' t have any of this without me."

"That' s the one true thing you' ve ever said," I replied, my voice low.

I went upstairs to my room, a suite of rooms larger than my mother' s entire house, and stripped off the stained blouse. My hand was red where the juice had been hottest.

It was a minor burn, insignificant. But it was a start. A physical reminder of their contempt. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at the woman with fire in her eyes. I was no longer the girl who cried over spilled juice. I was a fortress, and they had just fired the first shot against my walls. They would find them much higher and stronger this time.