Cassandra Inglerad was dead.

Or so the world believed. The truth was far less tidy.

I had buried myself in a weathered cottage beyond the edge of a quiet village, veiled behind tangled birch and oak. The path to my door was choked with wildflowers, the air steeped in damp earth and pine, half-forgotten, like me.

Privacy was the only luxury I could still afford. And the only armor I trusted.

For weeks, I didn’t dare step beyond the trees.

The villagers assumed I was a reclusive widow. I let them. If only they knew the real tragedy: I wasn’t mourning the dead, just humiliated beyond recognition and living on soup made from turnips.

During the day, I listened to the voices of my tutors—experts quietly teaching me to think like a queen, not a girl. 

At night, I lit a single candle, curled by the window, and read until the words blurred into sleep. I lost myself in pages of history, law, commerce, and strategy.

All my life, I’d been groomed to smile, curtsy, and glide through ballrooms with grace. None of it mattered.

Now I knew better—power came from knowledge, and I was ravenous for it.

Even in hiding, I wasn’t alone.

I split my time between studying and shaping a business empire from the shadows—one built with Archduke Cromwell’s help. Evan was impressed by my natural trade acumen.

Rightly so. Business came so easily to me.

Observing my brilliant father in business throughout my life gave me a head start.

They called me Voyox—a whispered name behind closed doors.

Now, my alter ego’s name was spoken in hushed tones across the trade districts.

Voyox had become something of a myth—equal parts tycoon, ghost, and possibly three owls in a cloak, judging by the rumors.

I had become a silent force—capable of lifting goods to luxury status or burying them in ruin.

I sent coded letters through trusted couriers, every message part of a larger game only I could see.

Every move was calculated, every investment a strike. Bit by bit, I tightened my grip on the markets.

The nobles toasted each other with Voyox wine, wrapped themselves in my silk, and never once knew whose hand fed their appetites.

Power was no longer about a title. It was about control.

But for all my progress, there were wounds I hadn’t yet learned how to close. That’s why I found myself drawn back to the capital—on a day I should’ve avoided at all costs.

I hadn’t meant to go to Eldric that day, to watch the wedding that was never mine.

But something gnawed at me. Some quiet, ugly, need to see what my life might’ve been

The city greeted me like a ghost—familiar, but colder than I remembered. The bells of the Grand Cathedral rang out across the capital, their deep chimes reverberating through the stone streets.

I turned a corner, slipping into the shadow of a tailor’s shop just in time to see them.

Brynda and Lorran.

They stood at the steps of the cathedral, their hands intertwined, bathed in the golden glow of the midday sun.

Brynda’s gown was a masterpiece of silk and pearls. Of course it was. Subtlety had never been one of her strengths.

Lorran gazed back at her as if she were his entire world.

My stomach twisted.

I should have turned away. I should have left before the sight of them could carve itself into my memory.

Still, I stayed frozen while nobles clapped, while guests praised a love story built on my erasure.

It was done.

They were married.

It should have been me.

Then I could’ve ruined him properly.

The thought struck like a blade. Some wounds, it seemed, never even scabbed.

For years, I had imagined what it would be like to stand beside Lorran on our wedding day and hear those bells ring.

I had shaped my life around him. But someone else had redrawn the map.

My hands clenched into fists. Was he ever mine at all? The thought came fast, cruel—and I crushed it before it could bloom.

Lorran had never been mine. Not truly. If he were, he would have never allowed himself to be seduced by my cousin.

Now, he had belonged to whatever version of himself Brynda had crafted for him.

I took a slow breath, forcing my hands to unclench.

The girl who had once dreamed of love, of devotion, of a life spent at a man’s side—she no longer existed.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

Whatever I had come here to find, I didn’t find it. Only absence. Only confirmation that the girl I used to be had died with Cassandra Inglerad.

What remained in her place was someone harder, smarter, and infinitely more dangerous. But if I wanted to wield power truly, I had more to learn.

I was glad that learning had turned fun for me. Not like in the beginning.

When Evan first sent tutors, I wanted nothing to do with them.

I had clawed my way out of the wreckage—why waste energy mastering a world that had already buried me?

But the longer I resisted, the clearer the truth became.

I’d always believed titles ruled the world. That wealth determined who mattered.

But that was the first lie I burned to ash.

The truly powerful were those who understood how to bend the world to their will.

I learned the intricate web of noble alliances—who secretly despised whom, which families were teetering on the edge of ruin, which merchants controlled the flow of imported goods.

I studied the unspoken rules of influence, how a single rumor could ruin a legacy, and how money alone was nothing without the right people in debt to you.

And for the first time, I saw the empire for what it truly was.

A chessboard.

A game of quiet warfare.

And I decided with fervent resolve that I would never be a pawn again.

I would be the hand that moved the pieces. And eventually, I would take the board for myself.

Power had become my obsession. But desire—well, that was something I hadn’t planned for.

It was late afternoon when the sound of hooves shattered my solitude.

I closed my book, frowning slightly.

Few people came this far into the woods. Fewer still would dare visit unannounced.

I stood and opened the door just as Evan Cromwell dismounted from his horse.

He stood at the edge of my doorstep like temptation itself—imposing, magnetic, far too real.

His dark coat clung to him, damp from mist and travel, his hair tousled just enough to make him look roguish.

The sight of him here, so far from the world of polished ballrooms and courtly politics, was almost jarring.

He looked at me, his blue eyes assessing. Then, his lips curved slightly.

“I hear you’ve been keeping busy.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway. “You make it sound like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.” He stepped forward, his eyes on the piles of stacked books and the papers scattered across my desk.

When his gaze swept the room, it lingered on everything I’d touched—as if memorizing the shape of my solitude.

“But from what I hear, you don’t just study. You excel.”

I raised a brow. “I guess I bribed my tutors well,” I joked. I glanced at my stacks. “What can I say? I’m a menace to every bookshelf within reach.”

His appraising gaze locked on me. “Perhaps,” he quipped. “Regardless, the tutors tell me you’re brilliant.”

I scoffed. “No need for flattery when the world is at your feet, Cromwell.”

“No flattery in sight. Only the truth.”

The air between us thickened, my pulse traitorous beneath my skin.

He took another step forward, his voice lowering just slightly. “They say you’re a fast learner. That you absorb everything they teach you like you were born for this.”

I lifted my chin. “And?”

“They also say you make them laugh.” His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “That your wit is sharper than they expected. That you have a charm they can’t quite resist.”

It should have sounded informative. But the tone in his voice was warm, filled with admiration.

I inhaled slowly. “Is that so?”

His smirk deepened, but then it faltered, just slightly.

And that was when I realized.

He hadn’t expected to say that. Hadn’t expected to notice those things about me.

And I hadn’t expected to want him to.

Evan Cromwell, the untouchable, unreadable Archduke, was caught off guard.

A slow, amused smile tugged at my lips.

“Careful, Evan,” I murmured. “You almost sound like you’re flirting with me.”

For the first time, I saw him hesitate.

Just for a fraction of a second.

But just as quickly as the moment arrived, he buried it beneath the cold mask of nobility.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said smoothly. “I was merely passing along what I heard.”

“Of course,” I said lightly, though I didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.

He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve changed.”

I met his eyes, steady and unflinching. “So have you.”

A beat of silence stretched between us before he stepped closer.

When his face came within inches of mine, I held my breath, feeling my heartbeat race wildly.

Without touching me, his face roamed mine. I felt his breath on my cheek, then lower to my ear. It was the most erotic action any man dared take with me, even though we didn’t have any skin-to-skin contact.

“Cassandra,” he murmured. “What is it about you that draws me in this much?”

His breath trailed to my neck. Again, there was no touching.

I arched my neck, hoping for his touch. But he wouldn’t satisfy me.

Then, as if scorched, he pulled back, leaving my skin humming where his breath had been.

We stared at each other, bewildered, both of us breathing hard.

He rubbed a hand over his face, then said, “I’m sorry. I…don’t know what came over me just now.” He gave me a sheepish look. “I don’t suppose you’d pretend that never happened?”

Seeing as I was a tumble of confusion and half-murderous lust, all I managed was a dignified squeak.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s pretend. Like responsible adults.”

Finally, I managed to squeak out, “Yes. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

Evan nodded, looking relieved. “I guess it’s time for me to leave.”

I followed him out the door, the heat of our non-touch still clinging to my skin like the breath of a storm.

“Evan,” I called out.

I wasn’t sure why, but I had to ask him the question that was burning in my head.

When he turned to me, I blurted, “Have you ever been in love?”

He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t appear surprised at my question. “I think…” He paused for longer than I expected. “I think I don’t know what being in love is. So the answer is no.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to expect or what I would get out of knowing the answer. But his answer unsettled me.

Because I wasn’t sure I knew what love was either—but something about the way he looked at me felt dangerously close.

“If you don’t have any more intrusive questions,” he said as he mounted his horse. “I’ll return soon. Try not to drive your tutors mad in the meantime.”

I shook my head. “No promises.”

He smirked—one of those crooked, unreadable half-smiles—and then he was gone, like a shadow swallowed by the woods.

I stood motionless in the doorway, the wind tangling my hair as if trying to touch what he hadn’t.

I should have dismissed our conversation.

But the tension between us lingered—unspoken, electric, impossible to ignore.

For the first time since my downfall, I didn’t know if I was becoming someone new or simply waking up as the woman I had always been—clever, calculating, and perilously close to wanting him.

Why was Evan so determined to be the man remaking me, reshaping not just my fate, but the rhythm of my pulse?

And why did it feel like we’d already begun a seduction neither of us knew how to stop?

I doubt even Evan knew the answer to that question.