"Mother, let me remind you. I am the mistress of this estate. With Stellan gone, my word is law here."

I turned to the servants standing outside the chapel. "Well? Escort the young lady to the crypt."

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, none of them daring to move.

I swept a cool look over them. "Think carefully about who the future master of this estate will be."

They did not know Stellan's death was staged. All they knew was that Ansel, his only son and the sole heir to everything, was in my arms.

A moment later, a crowd of them rushed forward, seized Daphne, gagged her, bound her hands, and dragged her out. The whole thing was over in seconds. Vivienne did not even have time to react.

When she finally processed what she was seeing, she pointed a trembling finger at me.

"You... Elara, just you wait. My son's spirit will not let you get away with this!"

I ignored her and instructed the servants to escort the old woman to her chambers to rest.

I knew perfectly well what she really meant. In seven days, the death-feigning potion would wear off and Stellan would come back to life. When that happened, he would not let me get away with it.

However, that was fine. I was not going to give him the chance.

In this life, Stellan Montclair was going to stay exactly what he was—a dead man in a crypt.

"Mother."

Ansel tilted his head up to look at me, reaching out with a small hand to tug at my sleeve.

I crouched down and looked at his little face. His chin had sharpened to a point from how thin he had grown, and something inside my chest tightened.

In my previous life, Vivienne insisted that with his father suffering on the front lines, no son of the household had any right to comfort. She slashed Ansel's food, clothing, and every allowance meant for him.

Even when his birthday came around, I was scolded for spoiling him just for making him a birthday cake.

I had gone to Stellan and begged him to intervene. His answer had been simple. "Mother is right. If people found out the general's son was living in luxury, I'd be skewered for it."

That day, they sent servants to take Ansel from me by force. I cried until I had no tears left, and it made no difference.

However, things were different now. Stellan would remain in his death-like state for seven days. I had more than enough ways to make sure he never woke up.

"Prepare the carriage."

I was going home to the Renworth household.

The carriage had barely come to a stop when I spotted my brother, Everett Renworth, hurrying out through the front gate. The sight of him, whole and unharmed, rooted me in place.

The memories hit me all at once.

In my previous life, Everett learned what I had suffered at the Montclair estate and went to confront Stellan in a fury. He believed his standing as the kingdom's top-ranked scholar, personally commended by the crown, and the weight of the Renworth name would be enough to give Stellan pause.

He could not have known that Stellan was already so besotted with Daphne that nothing else mattered. To bury the scandal of elevating his mistress and destroying his wife, Stellan ordered his men to ambush Everett on the road. They killed him and left his body in the hills like an animal.

Everett endured over ten years of grueling study. He was first in the royal examinations, hand-picked by the king himself.

He was a mind brimming with promise, and he had a future without limits. Yet, he was dead before he turned 30.

Meanwhile, I was trapped in that forgotten cottage on the estate grounds. They would not even let me retrieve his body.

I was still lost in the anguish of that other life when Everett reached me.

"Elara?" He frowned slightly, concern threading through his gaze. "I heard about everything. Stellan... Are you..."

He was probably going to tell me to grieve well, to not be too hard on myself.

"Everett..." I shook my head and cut him off. "There's no one in this world who wants him dead more than I do."

Everett went still.

Everett did not know how many years of suffering were buried in that single sentence. I took a deep breath and told him everything. All of it, from this life and the one before. My slow, miserable death; Ansel growing up in poverty with nothing to his name; Everett's murder.

When I finished, the color had drained from his face.

"Is all of this true?"

"Every word."

A long silence passed. The warmth bled out of Everett's eyes until they were cold as stone.

"Good. Then we make sure he stays dead."

…

The second day of Stellan's feigned death, I went to the palace to seek an audience with the king.

I needed His Majesty's own decree to seal the deaths of both Stellan and Daphne in the official record. Once that was done, coming back to life would mean they had deceived the crown.

I waited on the stone floor of the great hall, the cold seeping through my knees until they ached.

Back then, I came to petition the king for justice, to accuse Stellan of abusing his wife and son, of murdering my brother, of faking his death to deceive the world. However, by then, it was already too late.

Everett was dead, the Renworth family was in ruins, and Stellan had just returned from yet another victorious campaign. The king was never going to punish his prized general. I waited for three days and three nights and never even got past the doors.

Yet now, Stellan was dead as far as the world knew, and I was the grieving widow of a fallen war hero. So I had barely been waiting half an hour before His Majesty summoned me inside.

I pressed my forehead to the floor, every word deliberate and clear.

"Your Majesty, my husband, General Stellan Montclair, has fallen in battle. My cousin, Daphne Langford, so moved by his valor, has offered to follow him in death. I humbly beseech Your Majesty to grant Daphne a posthumous title of honor in recognition of her devotion, and to permit her burial alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt."

There was a pause from behind the royal desk.

I knew why. There were not many women in this world who would willingly agree to let another woman be buried beside their own husband while they themselves still drew breath. Even fewer would personally petition the crown for an honor on that woman's behalf.

However, I knew the king would agree. There was no reason to refuse a living woman's request to bestow honors upon the dead. Better still, word of this would spread as a shining example of his benevolence, proof that the crown honored its soldiers and rewarded virtue.

"Granted."

That one word was all I needed.

I bowed my head in thanks, a cold smile hidden against the stone.

In my previous life, I gave ground at every turn, believing it would earn me even an ounce of sincerity in return. What did it get me?

I surrendered my title as lawful wife, surrendered my son's future, surrendered 20 years of my life, and in the end, I died in a crumbling cottage where no one even brought me a cup of warm water.

This life would not go the same way.

With the royal decree issued, Daphne was now officially recognized by the crown as a devoted woman who chose to be buried alongside her beloved. If Stellan dared come back to life after that, it would be treason.

It would mean the king had been deceived into granting a false title, deceived into honoring a fraud. And when that came to light, the two of them would not be the only ones who paid for it.

I stepped out of the palace, and the midday sun hit me so hard that it made my vision swim.

My thoughts drifted to Ansel. In my previous life, he waited in that chapel for three days and three nights, and the damage it did to his legs never healed. Every time the rains came, the pain was so bad he could barely walk.

As for Stellan and Daphne's children? They lived in the main wing, wore silk, and attended the finest schools. Ansel could not even count on a full meal.

Well, not this time.

This time, Ansel would be the sole legitimate heir of the Montclair estate.

I had barely stepped through the door when Vivienne was already there. She had broken free of the servants I posted to watch her and came flying at me with her hair wild and loose.

"You vile woman, what are you trying to do? Why did you go to the palace?"

I looked at her and pried her fingers off me. I did not answer either question.

I simply turned to the servants who had come running after her. "Are you going to escort Mrs. Montclair Senior back to her room, or do I need to ask twice?"

The servants scrambled to drag Vivienne back inside.

"You vile woman!"

I could still hear her screaming from halfway across the courtyard, but I paid it no mind.

Sealing Stellan's death in the official record was the only thing that mattered right now. As for Vivienne, there would be plenty of time to deal with her later.

…

On the third day, I sent a letter to the military camp. It was addressed to Vice Commander Garrett Soren, Stellan's sworn rival in the ranks.

I could handle the people and affairs within the estate easily enough, but Stellan was a seasoned battlefield commander with loyal men scattered throughout the army. If he had left contingencies in place, I could not afford to be caught off guard.

That afternoon, Garrett arrived at my invitation.

"I'm not sure what could be so urgent that the general's wife needs to see me personally."

He offered me a perfunctory bow, and his tone was far from warm. I did not take it personally.

"Stellan Montclair is not dead."

That was enough to drain the color from Garrett's face.

In my previous life, I was the one who suffered the most from Stellan's scheme. However, the retaliation Garrett endured was no less devastating.

When Stellan returned from his feigned death, the very first person he went after was Garrett, who had tried to seize command in his absence. Stellan dispatched him deep into enemy territory with no supplies and no reinforcements, and left him there to be ground down and killed.

Afterward, in his report to the crown, Stellan claimed Garrett had defected to the enemy. The accusation led to the execution of Garrett's entire family.

"You're Stellan's wife. Why would you tell me this? Aren't you afraid that..." Garrett stared at me, clearly unable to fathom why I would do this.

I simply smiled. "Because I want him dead just as much as you do."

The composure on his face cracked apart.

I continued, "Your abilities are well known to me, Vice Commander. With Stellan dead, the position of commanding general will be yours. And for my son to inherit the family title, Stellan needs to stay dead. Why not join hands?"

I extended the offer openly.

His expression was a war of conflicting emotions. I did not press him. I gave him time.

After a long, quiet moment, Garrett bowed to me with considerably more respect than he had shown when he walked in. "I'm at your service."

I nodded. The alliance was set.

After I saw Garrett off, the warmth left my eyes.

…

On the fourth day of Stellan's feigned death, Vivienne started making moves again.

My sudden visit to the palace had rattled her. The entire Montclair estate was now firmly under my control. While Daphne was still alive, I had thrown her into the family crypt four days ago with no food and no water.

The whole point of Stellan's scheme was to use Daphne's act of martyrdom to pressure me into giving up my position as the lady of the house so he could marry Daphne openly and properly.

If Daphne died before that could happen, everything they had planned would be for nothing. So that night, the servant I had stationed to watch Vivienne came to report.

"My lady, Mrs. Montclair Sr. sent someone out under the cover of dark. They've brought back Dr. Pemberton."

I frowned.

In my previous life, it was Dr. Fred Pemberton who supplied Stellan with the death-feigning potion. The potion was set to wear off after seven days, at which point Stellan would wake on his own. Now, Vivienne was sending for the very same doctor.

She was panicking. She wanted to bring Stellan back ahead of schedule.

A cold smile crossed my lips. I took out paper and pen and wrote two letters.

"Deliver these. One to Everett, the other to the military camp for Vice Commander Soren. Everyone else, follow me to the chapel."