The room went dead silent.
I genuinely think my soul left my body for a second.
“He says he knew you before your death.”
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I turned slowly toward Alekxander.
“Tell me you heard that too.”
His face had gone frighteningly cold.
Not normal cold.
Murderous cold.
Cassian pushed away from the desk immediately.
“Where is he?”
“The main drawing room, sir,” the servant answered nervously through the door.
Alekxander moved first.
“Stay here.”
I blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You are not going near him.”
“Oh, that’s adorable. You think I’ll listen.”
“Ophelia.”
“No, because what do you mean stay here? A random man appears claiming he knew me before I died and you expect me to calmly sit in the library?”
“Yes.”
“That’s actually insane.”
Cassian rubbed his forehead.
“Can the two of you postpone your marital argument for five minutes?”
“We are not married,” Alekxander said flatly.
“Unfortunately,” I muttered.
Both men looked at me.
I looked away immediately.
Wow.
Fantastic.
Why did I say that out loud?
Cassian started choking on laughter.
Alekxander stared at me for a long second before speaking carefully.
“You are not going downstairs.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I can.”
“You really can’t.”
“I absolutely can.”
“You underestimate how committed I am to bad decisions.”
His jaw tightened.
Which honestly only proved my point.
I slipped past him before he could grab me again and headed for the door.
“Ophelia…”
“Move quickly or move dramatically,” I called over my shoulder.
“But either way, we’re going.”
Cassian burst out laughing.
Alekxander looked one inconvenience away from homicide.
The walk downstairs felt suffocating.
Every sound felt louder.
Every shadow felt wrong.
And underneath all of it was one horrifying thought repeating in my head.
What if he really knew me?
Not Ophelia Ashbourne.
Me.
The real me.
No.
Not real me.
God, even my identity crisis had identity crises now.
By the time we reached the drawing room doors, my heartbeat was so loud I could barely think.
Alekxander stepped in front of me before the servant opened the door.
Protective.
Instinctive.
His hand brushed against mine for half a second.
Warm.
Then gone.
“Stay behind me,” he said quietly.
I rolled my eyes softly.
“You say that like I’m not the main character of this disaster.”
Alekxander didn’t even react.
Which meant he was seriously worried.
That scared me more than anything.
The doors opened.
A man stood near the fireplace.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Gloves.
My stomach dropped so violently I almost stopped breathing.
Not him.
Not the man from the vision.
But.
The ring.
Black Sun.
My pulse roared in my ears.
The stranger turned slowly toward us.
And smiled.
It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
It was the kind people wore when they already knew something you didn’t.
“Lady Ashbourne,” he said smoothly.
Alekxander stepped forward immediately, placing himself between us.
The stranger’s smile widened slightly.
“Lord Vale.”
That one sentence carried tension sharp enough to cut skin.
Cassian crossed his arms.
“You broke into a noble estate at midnight. I assume you have a very convincing explanation prepared.”
“I was invited.”
“You were not.”
The man ignored him completely.
His eyes found me again.
And suddenly.
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
A sharp flash.
A streetlight.
Rain.
A car horn.
The same man standing across the road in the modern world.
Watching me.
Watching me die.
I gasped softly and stumbled back.
Alekxander caught me instantly.
“Ophelia.”
The stranger watched calmly.
“Ah. So the memories are returning faster than expected.”
Expected.
Expected?
Every nerve in my body went cold.
“What are you?” I whispered.
His smile faded slightly.
“That is a complicated question.”
“Try me.”
“Ophelia,” Alekxander warned quietly.
“No.” I pushed away from him slightly, eyes locked on the stranger.
“I want answers.”
The man studied me carefully.
“You truly don’t remember.”
My chest tightened.
“Remember what?”
For the first time, something almost like pity crossed his face.
“Interesting.”
I was going to lose my mind.
“I swear to God if another person answers my questions with cryptic nonsense…”
“You died once before your modern life.”
The room froze.
I stared at him blankly.
“What?”
Cassian’s expression darkened instantly.
Alekxander looked ready to kill him.
The stranger continued calmly, “This is not your first death, Lady Ashbourne.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed. Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
Because clearly my sanity had packed its bags and left.
“Oh, okay,” I said weakly.
“Sure. Why not? Let’s just keep adding trauma.”
“Stop speaking,” Alekxander said coldly to the man.
But the stranger ignored him again.
“You were never supposed to remember this much.”
A horrible feeling settled in my stomach.
“What are you talking about?”
The man tilted his head slightly.
“The Society spent decades searching for someone capable of surviving memory transference.”
My breathing stopped.
No.
No no no.
Alekxander moved in front of me again completely now.
“You will leave.”
“You already know I cannot.”
The tension in the room became unbearable.
Cassian slowly reached inside his coat.
Weapon.
Definitely weapon.
I suddenly realized nobody here considered this conversation normal anymore.
Which meant this man was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
The stranger looked at me again.
“Do you know why the original Ophelia Ashbourne was murdered?”
I swallowed hard.
“She discovered the Society.”
“No.”
The single word shattered the room.
Alekxander’s expression changed instantly.
Tiny.
But enough.
Enough for me to notice.
The stranger smiled faintly.
“She died because she remembered you.”
Silence.
My heartbeat stopped.
“What?”
The man’s eyes stayed on mine.
“The original Ophelia began remembering fragments of another girl. Another life.”
Cold spread through my chest.
“No…”
“She spoke your name before her death.”
I stepped backward slowly.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
Alekxander grabbed my arm carefully.
“Do not listen to him.”
But his voice sounded strained now.
Not confident.
Strained.
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Too defensive.
“You knew something.”
His silence destroyed me.
Not because I thought he was evil.
But because every single truth between us seemed buried under another lie.
The stranger watched us carefully.
Almost curiously.
Then quietly said.
“You should ask Lord Vale what happened the night Ophelia Ashbourne died.”
The room became deadly still.
Alekxander’s face lost all color.
And suddenly.
I knew.
Whatever happened that night…
Alekxander had never forgiven himself for it.