"Am I dreaming?" 

Elena let out a brief, excited squeal before quickly muffling herself, heart racing. The sound made Tomas, glance back in concern as he guided the carriage towards their quiet suburb. 

“Is everything okay, Miss Elena?” Tomas asked, his voice steady but laced with worry. 

“Everything’s fine, Tomas. I... I thought I saw a bug,” she lied, trying to gather herself. Her emotions felt like they were spiraling out of control, overwhelming her more than she expected. 

The day at Ashwood Academy had gone better than she had imagined. Much better, in fact. She had made friends with Lucas and Lorianne, children of a newly wealthy baron who had recently relocated to the capital after receiving an unexpected inheritance. 

Throughout the day, she had mingled with her peers, most of whom were eager to hear about Valtara—a place that only a few of them had ever visited or even heard much about. They seemed curious, but not intrusive. For that, she was grateful. No one had pressed her about her background, and none of them seemed to know of her family's troubled circumstances. But it was only a matter of time. 

Should I just tell them? 

The thought gnawed at her. 

Would they treat me differently if they knew? 

Then her thoughts drifted to Sebastian—the boy who had caught her attention the moment she stepped into Frowde’s Fine Books and the one her mother had warned her to avoid. She longed for answers. Learning that Sebastian was the Duke's son made him feel even further out of reach, but her curiosity about him lingered. She hadn’t fully considered what drew her to him, nor what it might mean.  

I barely know him. So why do I care? Elena wondered, feeling the unfamiliar tightness in her chest again. She wasn’t even sure what it was—curiosity? Fascination? Or was it simply because her mother had warned her to stay away? She didn’t know, and that unsettled her more than anything. 

In truth, she knew her time in the capital was limited. These feelings were new, unfamiliar, and though they unsettled her, she didn’t want to run away from them. Not yet.  

The carriage came to a gentle stop outside their home, and the door to the house swung open immediately. Catherine, with a warm smile but an anxious gleam in her eyes, stood on the doorstep, eager to welcome her daughter back. She had spent the entire day pacing the halls, consumed with worry over how Elena’s first day had gone. Now that she was home, Catherine wanted to know everything about Ashwood Academy. 

Elena stepped out of the carriage, bracing herself for the flood of questions she knew would come. Yet, a storm brewed within her—uncertainties about the day, about Sebastian, and even about her mother. Should she share everything, including her growing intrigue toward the Duke’s son? Or would she guard that part of herself for now?  

But there was something else gnawing at her—a curiosity that had been sparked by her mother’s anxious plea this morning. First the rejected invitation, then the cryptic warning to stay away from anyone connected to the Duke’s family. She wanted answers, too. 

"You’re back," Catherine greeted her, arms outstretched, pulling her daughter into an embrace. “How was your first day? Did anything happen?” 

"It was more than I could have expected," Elena replied cryptically, her tone adding to her mother’s curiosity as she led her inside toward the salon. 

“What does that mean, Elena?” Catherine asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Nothing special happened," Elena said, evading. "The academy is just... really beautiful. Much grander than I expected.” 

Catherine sat quietly, nodding, but it was clear she wasn’t fully satisfied. She wanted more than surface-level details. 

Elena hesitated before continuing. “No one asked me about... our situation, and I didn’t offer that information either,” she said, hoping to ease the tension she could see in her mother’s eyes. “I met a few nice people, and I already decided what I want my elective courses to be.” 

“That’s wonderful, Elena.” Catherine’s smile was genuine, though there was still a hint of wariness beneath her relief. The thought of Elena having peers her own age brought her some comfort, but she couldn’t shake her anxieties. 

As Bethany brought tea and treats into the room, a heavy silence settled between them. There were unspoken truths lingering in the air—things that needed to be said but weren’t, and questions Elena still had for her mother. Should she ask now? She could feel the weight of this morning’s warning pressing on her. 

"Mother... about this morning," Elena began, her voice unsure. “Did something happen between you and the Duchess when you lived in the capital?” 

Catherine’s hand stilled as she set her teacup down on the table, her expression faltering. Elena watched the shift in her mother’s posture—something unspoken passed between them, a shadow of old wounds and secrets long buried. She waited patiently, the silence between them growing heavier with each passing moment. 

“I left the capital at a very young age, Elena. That was a long time ago,” Catherine finally said, her voice measured but distant. Elena, however, never took her eyes off her mother.  

“Please don’t treat me like a child, Mother. Tell me what happened," Elena pressed gently, yet firmly, placing a reassuring hand over her mother’s. "I won’t let this rest until you do.”  

Catherine let out a long, labored sigh. It had been years since she had spoken to anyone besides her parents about what had transpired between her and Madeline Gladstone, the daughter of a count. To speak of it now, especially with Elena, felt like reopening old wounds she had worked so hard to bury.  

“There are things from my past, Elena, that I never wanted you to know—things I hoped you’d never have to face,” Catherine began, her voice trembled softly, though the weight of her words was heavy. Her gaze grew distant, memories long suppressed rising to the surface.  

Catherine paused for a moment, her hand trembling slightly as she set the teacup down. Her eyes flickered to Elena, a silent debate raging within her. Was this the right time to reveal it all? Could she really burden her daughter with the pain she had tried so hard to leave behind? 

Born Catherine Davenport, her parents—Baron Charles and Baroness Alice Davenport—had struggled for years to conceive. When Catherine was finally born, she became their most precious treasure. Every decision they made revolved around her well-being, ensuring she had every advantage, every opportunity. But that also meant placing her in circles where expectations weighed heavily, especially when her father became an aide to Count Gladstone.  

At the time, Catherine and Madeline were close in age, and their lives became entangled from an early age, spending their days being tutored together at the Count’s estate. But it wasn’t the shared lessons that left their mark—it was the endless comparisons.  

“Madeline’s mother... the Countess,” Catherine’s voice wavered, “was a harsh woman. Cruel in many ways. Whenever Madeline fell short, she’d look at me as though I were some kind of example. ‘Why can’t you be more like Catherine?’ she would say. ‘They work for us, and she can do it—why can’t you?’”  

Elena’s brow furrowed as she listened, sensing the deep hurt woven into her mother’s words.  She could feel the bitter weight those words had left behind. The tension, the rivalry—it had been imposed on them by the very adults who should have known better.  

"The Countess’s cruel comparisons... they weren’t just words. They drove a wedge between Madeline and me. I never wanted to compete, but I became the embodiment of everything Madeline wasn’t, at least in her mother’s eyes.”  

Catherine’s hands trembled slightly as she recalled the way the Countess used her as a weapon, wielding her achievements to strike at her own daughter.   

Madeline’s mother was a staunch classist, known for her cruelty, a woman who believed in the rigid structures of nobility. Despite Catherine’s father being an aide to Count Gladstone, respected for his expertise and diplomatic acumen, it made no difference to the Countess. To her, they were always lesser.  

“My father... he was respected for his knowledge and his skills, but to the Countess, we were still just the help. No matter how hard I tried, I could never shake the feeling that we didn’t belong. In her eyes, we were beneath them. And Madeline... Madeline suffered for it. It was the beginning of everything that went wrong between us.”  

Catherine looked at Elena, her eyes filled with the weight of those old memories. “That’s why I warned you, Elena. The world you’re entering is full of people who will tear you down, not because of who you are, but because of who they think you should be.”  

Catherine’s voice faltered for a moment, and Elena felt her mother’s struggle to continue. She squeezed her hand gently, letting her know she was there, ready to listen. The room felt heavy with the unspoken history that Catherine had carried for so long.  

“By the time we were ten, I knew Madeline hated me,” Catherine admitted, her voice quiet but filled with the weight of old wounds.  

Years of relentless comparisons had worn Madeline down. What had started as her mother’s doing—measuring them against each other—had turned into something far more personal. 

Madeline, always under the shadow of her mother’s harsh criticism, began directing her resentment towards Catherine. The whispers, the cold stares, and the quiet ostracism became part of Catherine’s daily life. But she endured it. She had to.  

“I didn’t want to cause trouble for your grandfather,” Catherine explained, her expression tightening as if she could still feel the burden of that decision. “His work with the Count was too important. So, I stayed silent and endured it. Madeline made sure to isolate me whenever she could—at parties, at gatherings. I was always on the outside, but I told myself it didn’t matter.”  

Elena watched her mother closely, imagining the young girl she had once been, quietly suffering beneath the weight of her father's status and Madeline's cruelty.  

“But it all came to a head the day Madeline received a gift from the Marchioness—a beautiful sapphire necklace,” Catherine continued, her voice growing quieter. “It was during one of her tea parties, and everything seemed normal until the commotion began. Madeline couldn’t find the necklace.”  

Elena felt her pulse quicken as she listened, sensing the importance of what was to come.  

“There was a frantic search, but no one could find it,” Catherine’s voice cracked slightly. “Until one of the maids found it... in my reticule.”  

Elena’s eyes widened, shock settling in. She could hardly imagine her mother in such a humiliating position.  

“I swore I hadn’t taken it, that I hadn’t even touched the necklace,” Catherine said, her voice trembling slightly as she relived the moment. “But no one believed me. The Countess... she was furious. She wouldn’t hear a word of my defense. Instead, she slapped me—right there, in front of everyone.”  

Catherine didn’t even see the slap coming. One moment, she was protesting her innocence, the next, the sharp sting of the countess’s hand left her gasping, her cheek burning. The room fell silent, the whispers dying on everyone’s lips. The slap wasn’t just physical—it was a public declaration of her guilt, her worthlessness. And in that moment, Catherine knew there was no going back. 

Elena’s breath caught, horrified at the thought of her mother being treated that way. She could see the lingering pain in Catherine’s eyes, the humiliation still fresh in her memory. How could someone so kind, so graceful, have suffered so much in silence? 

“That was the last time I stepped foot in the Count’s mansion,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And the last time I saw Madeline. After that, my father made arrangements for us to leave the capital. Our family’s reputation had taken a hit because of the Countess’s actions against us. We left, and we never looked back.”  

A heavy silence filled the room as Catherine finished her story. The memory, once locked away, now hung between them, raw and painful. Elena sat quietly, absorbing everything her mother had told her, her heart aching for the girl Catherine had been.