The garden behind the Lancaster estate was more forest than flora—hedged pathways winding through walls of roses and marble statues that stared with sightless eyes. Moonlight poured like spilled milk across the stones, turning everything silver and strange.
Sienna hadn't meant to wander.But after hours of banquet toasts and fake smiles, she needed air.
She followed the scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp stone until she saw the figure sitting alone on a weathered bench beneath an arched trellis.
Lorraine Lancaster.
Silas's mother. The so-called ghost of the estate.
Her silk robe shimmered in the moonlight as her shoulders shook. Her hands trembled around a rosary. The sight—this elegant, delicate woman weeping in the shadows—made something in Sienna tighten.
She approached quietly.
"Mother?" she asked, her voice soft.
Lorraine flinched. But when she saw it was Sienna, she offered a watery smile and reached for her hands.
"You must be careful, child," she whispered, clutching her fingers. "The Lancasters... they swallow gentle souls whole."
Sienna blinked. She hadn't expected that.
Before she could speak, a rustle split the quiet—like silk dragging across thorns.
A figure emerged from the rose bushes, her perfume sweet and too familiar.
Vivian Nan.
Draped in a lavender gown, her expression sugar-sweet and smug.A sister by blood. A serpent by nature.
"Sister," Vivian cooed, voice syrupy. "How touching. Comforting your new mother-in-law under the stars. You do love a dramatic scene."
Lorraine stiffened, her hands slowly releasing Sienna's.
Sienna's spine snapped straight. "What do you want, Vivian?"
Vivian stepped closer, the heels of her satin shoes silent against the mossy stone. Her eyes glittered in the dark like twin blades.
"Oh, nothing, really. Just a reminder."She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Sienna's ear.Her whisper was poisoned honey.
"No matter how high you climb, you'll always be that ugly, abandoned girl."
Then she was gone—vanishing into the rose-covered shadows like a ghost born of spite and silk.
Silence returned, thick and suffocating.
Sienna stood frozen, her breath trembling. Her nails bit crescent moons into her palms.
She wouldn't cry. Not here. Not for them.
But rage burned beneath her skin—clean and bright and blinding.
She turned to find Lorraine watching her with unreadable eyes.
"You don't believe her, do you?" Sienna asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Lorraine didn't answer. She only stood, brushing her robe smooth.
"I believe you're not the first girl to be underestimated in this family."Then she walked away, her steps disappearing into the dark.