Scarlet’s POV
The door to my room clicks shut, and the pristine, controlled silence is a cage for the fury screaming inside .
I want to shatter the crystal vases, to claw the curtains. But I don’t. I am the picture of grace. I will not give them any reason to see as volatile.
I force myself to walk calmly to the bed and sit, my hands clenched so tightly in my lap my nails leave half-moons in my palms.
That mouse. That insignificant, dull-eyed, trembling little nobody. The K-trios’ fated mate? It’s a cosmic joke. An insult. It’s impossible.
Yet the evidence is irrefutable. They brought her here. Into our ho. Kayden, who shies from all touch, clung to her.
They’re researching the possibility of a second mate—for her. They’re giving her attention that rightfully belongs to .
After everything I’ve done. The ticulous planning, the enchanted waist beads I wear to amplify a connection that should be naturally mine, the carefully constructed monts to reinforce their belief that I am their destined one. Shouldn’t the Moon Goddess see my effort? Shouldn’t She reward my brilliance by simply making it true? Is She truly so blind?
How could that weak, pathetic creature possibly be a better match for them than ? They need a queen, a partner of equal power and ruthlessness. Not a frightened rabbit.
The Moon Goddess has made a mistake. A catastrophic, unforgivable mistake.
A frustrated scream builds in my throat, but I swallow it down.
I rise and go to my walk-in closet. I bring out the life-like doll of Keith. I bring it to the bed and switch it on. Its eyes glow a soft blue.
"I have a problem my Keith."
"What’s wrong, Scarlet?" it asks in Keith’s perfectly replicated, calm baritone.
I smooth its synthetic hair, a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. "A little mouse is trying to steal what’s ours." I summarize the evening’s events, my voice a venomous purr. "She thinks she can deceive you. But we won’t let her, will we? I need to prove she’s the fake. I need to remind you all that I am the real deal."
The doll stares blankly, but its presence is a comfort. Unlike the real Keith, it doesn’t defy . Now, I just need to make the real ones fall in line. And I will. No one takes what is mine.
"You are absolutely right, my love," the doll replied in its soothing, fabricated voice. "The mouse is clearly up to no good. What do you suggest we do?"
A cold, calculating smile touches my lips. "Oh, she’s just a mouse. Squashing her would be simple, but it would raise suspicions. Especially with Kayden." The thought of him is a particular irritation. Gaining his trust is like trying to grasp smoke.
"And I don’t even want to think about what happened with Keith in the sauna." The mory of him pushing away, his body rigid with rejection, sends a fresh spike of fury through .
How dare he be repulsed? No man has ever refused . It has to be because of her. Her presence is already polluting everything.
"The thought of living under the sa roof as that creature is unacceptable," I seethe, stroking the doll’s cheek. "But a direct attack is too crude. The key is Kayden. If I can make him doubt what he felt, make him see it as a trick or a mont of weakness, the whole house of cards will collapse." I lean closer to the doll, as if sharing a delicious secret. "All I need to do is ensure they see Eleanor for what she truly is: A liar."
"You are so thoughtful," the doll crooned, its programd adoration a balm to my wounded pride. "So devoted to keeping us mate to yourself. It’s what you deserve."
"Exactly," I whisper. I stand, letting my gown pool at my feet, and slip into bed beside the synthetic replica of the man who should be worshipping . I curl against it. "Tomorrow," I murmured as a dozen wicked plans begin to bloom in my mind, "the real work begins."
****
Eleanor’s POV
Sleep is impossible.
I’m lying in a bed that costs more than myself, in a room so sleekly decorated it feels like an exhibit, but I’ve never felt more like a prisoner. My mind is a frantic, churning ss.
My luggage was fetched from the Queen’s Estate, and my new phone has been buzzing non-stop with worried texts from Mira and Roxy.
What’s happening? Where did they take you?
How can I possibly answer? ’Hey, just staying at the Vexxon estate because it turns out all three brothers are my fated mates, but don’t worry, I’m going to reject them!’
It sounds insane. And what’s the point of telling them if my plan is to end this before it truly begins? I just need to convince the n to reject first.
This isn’t the kind of luck I wanted. One mate was overwhelming enough. But three? Powerful, intimidating n who already have a mate? It’s a nightmare.
But it shouldn’t be hard to get them to cast aside, right? They think I’m a fraud. They’re suspicious of . All I have to do is lean into that. Be the unworthy, confusing problem they already think I am.
I must have dozed off from sheer exhaustion, because the next thing I know, a calm, automated voice is speaking, and the room is flooded with blinding morning light as the curtains slide open on their own.
I groan, pulling the duvet over my head. A few minutes later, my brain catches up. Wait.
I sit up abruptly, the reality of my situation crashing down on all over again. I’m still here.
I drag myself through a morning routine in the luxurious ensuite bathroom, my movents slow and heavy with dread. After dressing in my simple, comfortable clothes—a small act of defiance against the opulence surrounding —I take a deep, fortifying breath and open the bedroom door.
I’d made a point to morize the hallways when Alfred led here last night. I won’t be wandering around like a lost puppy. I find my way downstairs, my footsteps silent on the plush carpet.
Sir Alfred is there, as if he’d been waiting. "Good morning, Miss Eleanor."
"Good morning, Sir Alfred," I reply, my voice still rough with sleeplessness.
He offers a warm, genuine smile. "Did you sleep well?"
A humorless, tired laugh escapes . "I don’t think I have the luxury of sleeping well in this place."
"You may have to grow accustod to it," Alfred replied, his tone kind but firm.
The words sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t want to get used to it. I followed him into a dining room that was larger than my entire old apartnt.
A servant placed a plate of beautifully arranged food in front of . It slled incredible. I thanked them quietly and began to eat, forcing myself to take slow bites. A full stomach might at least give the strength to face whatever ca next.
When I was finished, I looked at Alfred, who had been standing by attentively. "Sir Alfred... could I speak with you for a mont?"
"Of course, Miss Eleanor. Please, go ahead."
I took a steadying breath. "I want to thank you. For your kindness. But... I would be even more grateful if there was any way you could help ." I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping to a near whisper.
"I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be involved with them. You don’t know , but my life has been... a lot. Family drama, then suddenly becoming a supernatural creature... adding this?" I gestured vaguely around the opulent room. "It’s too much. I can’t cope."
Alfred studied for a long mont. "What is it you truly want, then?"
The question unlocked sothing inside . "I want my life to change," I said, the words coming out with more force than I intended. "For most of my life, I’ve just sucked up other people’s bullshit, thinking if I was quiet and agreeable, I’d earn respect and love. But it never worked. With this new life... I can’t live like that anymore. The few tis I’ve actually stood up for myself have felt... great. I want to keep doing that. I want to follow my dreams."
I thought of the track, the roar of an engine, a feeling I’d only ever daydread about. "I’ve always wanted to be a racer. A really good one. But I was always too scared. I had a million excuses. Then I t people who showed my excuses were just... foolish. A way to stay in my safe, miserable little comfort zone and live an unfulfilled life."
I t his gaze squarely. "I was dead once. Or almost dead. It changed sothing in . I want to live my life to the fullest now. And that... that ans I don’t want this." I gestured again. "I don’t want any part of it."
"That’s such a sha..."
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