Amara leaned against the mirror in her dressing room, brushing her fingers through her hair with slow, measured strokes. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, familiar. The same woman Darian and Selene believed they would destroy.
Let them keep believing.
She picked up the perfume Darian once gifted her—velvet jasmine with a bitter undercurrent. She dabbed it on her wrists, just as she used to, knowing he'd notie
There was a knock.
She composed her face into soft surprise. "Come in."
Darian stepped into the room, handsome in his usual effortless way. His smile was laced with that practiced charm she had once mistaken for sincerity.
"Thought I'd find you here," he said, closing the door behind him.
Amara tilted her head. "Where else would I be?"
He chuckled lightly and leaned against the doorframe. "I must say, you've been… different lately." he smirks
She kept her smile neutral. "Different how?"
He studied her carefully. "You're being warmer with Zane. People might get the wrong idea."
Wrong idea? Or the right one?
"I'm married to him, Darian," she said simply. "I have to at least pretend, don't I?"
That appeased him—barely. His eyes slid down her body, the same way they always did, like he owned her. She felt her stomach twist with disgust, but she didn't let it show.
"I just don't want you forgetting what we have," he said, stepping closer.
Amara turned back to the mirror, voice low. "I haven't forgotten anything."
That much was true. She remembered every lie he'd whispered. Every promise he'd broken. Every time he touched her while plotting her end.
Darian came up behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "You still want this, don't you?"
She looked at him through the mirror. "What I want," she said, her voice soft as silk, "is everything we planned."
A pause.
"You mean… taking it all?"
She gave the faintest nod, the perfect echo of the woman he thought he controlled. "Zane's distracted lately. I think he suspects something… but I'll handle it."
Darian's mouth curled into that smug smile that once made her heart race. Now it made her blood boil.
"You always were the clever one, Amara," he whispered.
She turned slowly to face him. "I just want us to win."
And for the first time, Darian believed her again.
When he left, satisfied, she locked the door behind him and sank into the chair. Her hands were trembling—not from fear, but from rage barely contained.
He thought she was the same fool. He thought she still worshipped him, still trusted him, still craved his love.
Let him believe it.
Because the woman he's planning to murder is gone. And what rose in her place?
Was something far more dangerous. and vengeful.
she looked at her reflection and she was satisfied with what she saw
...
Selene's Point of View
There she was again. Smiling. Glowing...
Selene watched her sister glide through the courtyard like she owned the sunlight itself. Every time Amara laughed, it stabbed something raw and bleeding in Selene's chest.
She hated her.
Not in the casual, fleeting way sisters often did. No, Selene's hatred was rooted, watered, and blooming. Watching Amara move with effortless poise, wearing a gown that kissed her skin like it was stitched just for her, stirred something primal in her chest.
She had always been the overlooked one—the pretty sister, not the exquisite one. The intelligent sister, never the dazzling one. The one who was there when the lights dimmed, cleaning up the messes, waiting for a thank-you that never came.
And then Amara had married Zane.
The prize. The empire. The name.
And still, Amara had treated it like a cage.
She had everything.
The mansion. The wealth.
God, Zane.
Selene's lips curled at the thought of him. The man was all quiet strength and steady kindness, devoted to Amara in a way most women only dreamed about. And what did Amara do? She ignored him. Treated him like a shadow. Like a fixture, not a man.
But now—suddenly—Amara was different.
Selene had always known her sister's moods, her expressions, the subtle tilt of her brow when she was lying, the quiet catch in her voice when she was afraid. But this new Amara… she was unnervingly still. Controlled. Watching everything and everyone with a softness too measured to be real.
She had been cold toward Zane for years. Distant. Barely there. But now she leaned toward him when he spoke, touched his arm lightly, laughed at his dry humor.
Sweet. Soft. Attentive to Zane's words like she actually cared. She had even worn the bracelet he gifted her years ago—something she used to leave buried in drawers like forgotten dust.
Selene's nails dug into her palm.
her stomach twisted
No. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair.
And it wasn't just Zane. Darian had been more withdrawn lately too—his eyes more thoughtful, his glances more frequent when Amara was around. Selene had spent too long grooming his ambition, whispering into his pride, making him believe he was destined for more than just the shadows of Zane's legacy.
She would not lose now.
A plan had to form. Slowly. Smartly.
Amara might be playing some new game, but Selene had always been better at pretending. She had learned long ago how to hide a knife behind a smile.
And if her sister wanted to act like the perfect wife now?
Well. Two can play that game.
Selene turned away from the railing, her heels clicking against the marble as she moved into the study. The doors shut behind her with a dull thud.
She poured herself a drink from Zane's crystal decanter, her hand trembling just enough to spill a drop onto the desk.
Selene tightened her grip on the glass.
lost in her own thoughts