Both girls screamed, their bodies jerking in opposite directions as the steel blade embedded itself in the wall behind them with a loud, metallic thud.
"Callum?!" Mirabel shrieked, stumbling backward with wide, furious eyes. "Are you trying to kill me with her?!" Her voice trembled with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
Callum...the youngest son of the Ashford family stood there. At twenty-one, he was already a seasoned soldier, trained to wield any weapon with lethal precision. Brash, hot-headed, and notoriously defiant of rules, Callum rarely cared for consequences. He protected fiercely, but never gently.
In Victoria's past life, he had been the only one who ever pleaded for her not to be sold. She remembered the desperation in his voice as he fought against the government. against his own family...trying to stop what he believed was a grave injustice. But despite his efforts, he had been captured and thrown into prison alongside her. Yet before that... he had hated her. Had tormented her relentlessly. And only when she was clinging to life at death's door did he show even a sliver of kindness.
Now that Victoria was thinking back... all those nights when she had been denied food, only to later find half a cake or a piece of bread wrapped carefully in cloth at her window...those foods had always tested clean when she used her silver hairpin to check for poison.
And those nights when she had been cast out of the mansion, forced to sleep in the cold with nothing but rags on her back....a warm coat had always found its way to her. Delivered anonymously. Left near the woodshed or draped over the garden bench where she often cried herself to sleep.
Could all of that truly have been Callum?
Victoria's brows furrowed in confusion as she swallowed hard.
No. Never.
He had only shown concern when she was dying. That had to be an act....a final performance to play the hero in front of her as death crept closer. She hadn't fallen for it then, and she wouldn't fall for it now.
The real person who had cared...the one who left food, who offered warmth...must still be in the mansion or perhaps outside.
"What kind of stupid play is that, Callum?!" Mr. Ashford barked, stepping forward with fury blazing in his eyes. His gaze flicked to the embedded sword, which had landed dangerously close to the narrow wall separating him from his wife.
"I told you not to practice sword fighting in here! If your hands are itching to kill someone, go to the prison and deal with the condemned!"
Victoria's stepmother, ever the perfect image of softness and civility, gently placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and added with a honeyed tone, "Please, darling. He's just excited to see his stepsister again. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm." She turned to Callum, eyes narrowing slightly as she gave him a subtle signal to behave. "Take it easy, sweetheart."
Victoria remained standing, rigid and unmoving. Her eyes burned red with barely restrained fury as she glared at Callum.
So this was his way of welcoming her home? By nearly skewering her with a sword? Was this some message....an attempt to intimidate her? To remind her she meant nothing to them?
"I wasn't trying to kill you, Mirabel," Callum said at last, his voice sharp but controlled. "I was trying to stop you from attacking Victoria. She just got home today, and you're already bullying her."
He let out a heavy sigh, then stormed across the room toward Victoria.
And then, with a jarring shift in demeanor, he came to a stop before her and offered a warm, almost boyish smile. One that tugged at something unfamiliar inside her.
Victoria's eyes widened, and she let out a short, disbelieving scoff.
"Bullying her?!" Mirabel exclaimed, utterly stunned. Her gaze darted between the two of them as if she had been dropped into the middle of a surreal play. "What are you even talking about?!"
She looked at Callum as if she no longer recognized him. This was her brother...the one who had always supported her no matter what she did and now he was standing there, defending Victoria of all people. The same Victoria who had been the family's disgrace. The cursed one. The girl believed to bring nothing but death and misfortune in her wake...her mother's death, her grandfather's collapse, and countless other calamities.
Now he was smiling at her?
To Mirabel, it felt like the entire household had been bewitched. Everyone was acting as if Victoria were someone to cherish, to protect and she alone remained immune to whatever spell had taken them all.
Callum's voice cut through the tension. Soft this time. Genuine.
"How have you been?" he asked quietly, his gaze locked with Victoria's.
Victoria felt her heart stutter. She wasn't sure if it was from confusion or the sheer absurdity of the moment.
Was he asking out of genuine concern? Or was this just a trap....an attempt to gather information, to learn the details of her suffering so that they can know what kind of sufferings to inflict on her now that she's here.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes... there was something there. Pain. Regret. Like someone who had watched something precious slip through their fingers and was only now getting the chance to reach for it again.
She swallowed hard.
'Just what is going on? I might go crazy at this rate.' Victoria thought to herself, growing unease as time goes on.
"Welcome home, little sister," Callum said warmly, his voice gentler than she remembered. Without waiting for a response, he took her hand and led her toward his seat. Once there, he bent down, picked up a wrapped box...pink paper with silver ribbons and handed it to her.
"Here," he said, offering it with a smile that didn't match the cold memories etched into her mind. "I got you a present. Let me know if you like any of them."
Victoria stared at the gift, swallowing the knot in her throat. Without a word, she unwrapped the box since all eyes were fixed on her waiting for her to unwrap it to reveal a smaller black case. She opened it slowly, eyes narrowing.
Inside was a small knife with a golden handle studded with tiny gems, a pair of delicate pink spheres...which at closer inspection were explosives....a bow forged from ice that shimmered under the chandelier's light, a pack of sleek arrows, and a polished gun with a smooth, glittering body.
Victoria's fingers brushed over the knife.
Nice try, Callum.
But she wasn't falling for it. She was just waiting for the moment when the masks cracked. Waiting for the act to slip. She imagined driving the knife into his heart...just a small twist to see if that smile of his would still hold.
"I got all of it for you," Callum said, one brow arched as he watched her. His voice was still warm, still steady. "Do you like them?"
"You got her all those?" Mirabel suddenly shrieked, storming forward with fury twisting her face. Her eyes were wide, lips trembling. "I asked you for those exact items! You said you'd get them for me! That collection is the only one in the entire city and you gave it to her?!"
"Yes, I did. You already got plenty of goods Mirabel. Victoria just got home hence let her enjoy too." Callum replied calmly, rolling his eyes at her before shifting his focus back to Victoria. "I'll teach you everything...sword fighting, shooting, horseback riding, how to drive war trucks. Everything. I'm your fourth brother, remember that."
Victoria stiffened. Her throat dried.
Before she could say anything, a deep, polished voice cut through the room.