Marian met Elena Hart on a rainy afternoon.
The heroine looked disappointingly normal.
The thought arrived the moment Elena entered the drawing room.
And Marian immediately felt guilty.
Only slightly.
The young woman standing beside Countess Everett was pretty.
Certainly.
Warm chestnut hair.
Clear brown eyes.
A pleasant smile.
The sort of appearance people found approachable.
Comforting.
Easy to like.
But this was not the breathtaking heroine Marian remembered from the novel.
Nor was she more beautiful than Marian.
Not remotely.
Marian knew that sounded vain.
She did not care.
She had mirrors.
The entire Empire had mirrors.
Beauty was not a competition she worried about losing.
Especially not today.
Because this—
This was the girl who was supposedly destined to steal Adrian.
Really?
Her?
Marian tried very hard not to laugh.
Not because Elena was lacking.
Because the idea felt ridiculous.
Adrian had known Marian for eighteen years.
Eighteen.
They had grown up together.
Shared holidays.
Shared birthdays.
Shared dreams.
Shared first kisses.
Shared promises.
And somehow this sweet-looking commoner was supposed to walk into the capital and erase all of that?
Impossible.
Completely impossible.
The novel was absurd.
"Lady Valmont."
Elena curtsied.
A little nervous.
A little awkward.
Entirely sincere.
Marian blinked.
That wasn’t what she expected.
The heroine wasn’t supposed to look intimidated.
If anything, Elena looked as though she was meeting royalty.
Which, technically, she almost was.
The realization amused Marian.
"Miss Hart."
Elena smiled.
Then immediately looked overwhelmed.
The reaction was so genuine that Marian nearly laughed.
She didn’t.
Barely.
Countess Everett watched both women with obvious amusement.
"Miss Hart was eager to meet you."
Elena immediately turned pink.
"My lady, please don’t phrase it that way."
"Oh?"
The Countess smiled.
"You’ve only asked me about Lady Valmont three times this week."
"It was not three times."
"It was four."
Marian finally laughed.
The sound startled Elena.
Then Elena laughed too.
And just like that, the awkwardness disappeared.
As the afternoon continued, Marian found herself studying the heroine.
Not maliciously.
Curiously.
This was the woman who had fascinated countless readers.
The woman who had captivated the original male lead.
The woman who had defeated the original villainess.
And honestly?
Marian could understand why people liked her.
Elena was easy to talk to.
Easy to trust.
Easy to relax around.
Most nobles carefully measured every sentence.
Elena simply spoke.
Not because she was rude.
Because she was honest.
There was a difference.
At one point Elena admitted she still got nervous attending noble events.
At another, she confessed she could never remember the proper order of introductions.
The Countess laughed.
Marian laughed.
Even Elena laughed.
The conversation flowed naturally.
Unexpectedly naturally.
By the end of the afternoon, Marian found herself liking her.
Which was inconvenient.
Very inconvenient.
Villainesses were not supposed to like heroines.
Yet Elena Hart was proving difficult to dislike.
The more they spoke, the more Marian realized something.
Elena wasn’t trying to take anything from her.
She wasn’t ambitious.
She wasn’t manipulative.
She wasn’t secretly plotting.
If anything, Elena seemed completely unaware of her own influence.
And perhaps that was what made her dangerous.
Not because she was beautiful.
Not because she was powerful.
Because she was genuine.
People liked genuine things.
Still.
As Marian watched Elena struggle to hold a teacup correctly while trying to imitate noble etiquette, a small, shameless part of her remained unconvinced.
She looked at Elena.
Then thought about Adrian.
And then thought:
No.
Absolutely not.
If Adrian chose someone else over me, he would have to be blind.
The thought was outrageously arrogant.
Marian knew that.
But she was also twenty years old.
Beautiful.
In love.
And human.
So she allowed herself one moment of vanity.
One moment.
Just one.
Then she smiled and pushed the thought away.
Because there was no point worrying.
The story had already changed.
Hadn’t it?
And Elena Hart, for all her charm, certainly didn’t look like someone capable of destroying eighteen years of love.