Aine Salazar POV:

I took a deep breath, forcing down the maelstrom of hatred churning inside me. I buried every emotion beneath a calm, placid surface. From this moment on, I was Aine Salazar, a twelve-year-old girl, timid and curious, brought back from the countryside.

I remembered the woman who had spoken. Mrs. Gable, a respected Elder in the Pack, responsible for teaching etiquette to the young ladies. She was rigid and severe, but fair. In my past life, I had resented her strictness and caused her no end of trouble.

This time, she would be a crucial ally.

I didn't push the door open impatiently as I had before. I waited.

The footman opened the door and lowered the step. A pair of tidy leather boots stopped in front of the opening. Mrs. Gable's voice came again, tinged with impatience. "Miss Aine, please get out."

I gathered my skirts and carefully peeked out. I deliberately adopted a frightened, hesitant posture, my eyes darting to the magnificent manor before me before quickly looking down, my hands twisting the fabric of my dress.

I felt Mrs. Gable's gaze on me, assessing me. The "wild girl from the country."

Without looking up, I spoke in a voice as soft as a mouse, laced with timidity. "Good day, Mrs. Gable."

I sensed a momentary stillness in the air. I guessed she hadn't expected me to know her name and use the proper title.

In my past life, I had been rudely calling her "that old woman" for a month after my arrival.

"You know of me?" Mrs. Gable's voice held a note of surprise.

I fidgeted with my fingers, whispering, "The men my father sent... they told me about you. They said you were the most respected Elder on the estate." I cleverly attributed my knowledge to a non-existent source.

Her tone softened slightly. "It seems you are not entirely savage." She held out a gloved hand. "According to protocol, you should be assisted from the carriage by me or your personal maid, not jump down on your own."

This was her first test. In my past life, I had ignored her hand, jumped down, and was immediately labeled "rude and ill-mannered," sealing her poor first impression of me.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I placed my small, cold hand into her warm, dry palm.

I felt her fingers stiffen. She clearly hadn't expected such compliance.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gable." I used her support to step down from the carriage, my movements graceful and steady, each step conforming to the strictest aristocratic etiquette. These were things I had spent ten years of my previous life learning; they were now etched into my very bones.

When I stood before her, I saw the undisguised astonishment in her eyes. She had probably expected a clumsy country girl, not a... lady with impeccable posture.

"Your etiquette... who taught you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"There was a disgraced lady in the village, a former noblewoman. I watched how she walked." I offered another half-truth, a plausible explanation for my "talent."

Mrs. Gable didn't press further, but the way she looked at me had changed completely. The scrutiny and disdain were gone, replaced by a flicker of curiosity and inquiry.

I knew I had succeeded in the first step.

"Now that you're here, you must pay your respects to the Matriarch, Lady Beatrice," Mrs. Gable said, turning to lead the way.

Lady Beatrice. My grandmother. The only person who had shown me any warmth in my past life, only to be disappointed by my foolishness. This time, I would not let her down.

I followed Mrs. Gable, my eyes sweeping over the bowing servants. Their faces held a mixture of curiosity, contempt, and pity.

I saw the faces of those who had bullied me and the few young servants who had been dismissed for showing me kindness.

A needle of pain pricked my heart, but I quickly regained my composure. It wasn't time for that yet.

Just then, a scene in my peripheral vision caught my eye. A man in a senior servant's uniform was roughly shoving a small Omega boy who looked no older than ten.

The tray the boy was carrying crashed to the ground, the silverware clattering loudly.

The man raised his hand, about to slap the boy across the face.

"Please wait," I said. My voice was not loud, but it was enough to halt all movement.

Every head turned toward me, including the man with his hand frozen in mid-air.