The Grey manor was unusually silent.

Georgia sat in the living room, sipping her tea as she read the two letters left behind by Cordelia—no, by April.

Felix sat beside her, his expression unreadable as he skimmed through his own letter, but the tightness in his jaw gave away his emotions.

The shock of Cordelia’s departure had yet to settle fully.

And yet, the most surprising revelation wasn’t that Lucian was behind it.

It was that their mother had known all along.

"You knew?" Felix finally spoke, his voice carrying a weight of disbelief.

Georgia sighed, folding the letter neatly and setting it on the table. "I had my suspicions," she admitted, looking at her son. "But I chose not to confront her."

Felix frowned. "Why?"

"Because a child doesn’t erase themselves for no reason," Georgia replied, her tone soft yet firm. "Something horrible must have happened to make her want to run, to bury April Winter and become someone else. And if she needed to be Cordelia to heal, then who was I to force her back into something she wanted to escape from?"

Felix looked away, rubbing his temples.

He had always known his mother had a soft spot for Cordelia, but this was beyond what he expected.

"She’s in Paris now," Felix muttered, as if trying to process it again. "Two years away from us."

Georgia exhaled slowly. "She’s working hard. She’s changing. She’s building herself into someone who can stand tall without fear."

Felix let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Sounds like you’re proud of her."

Georgia smiled wistfully. "I am."

Felix glanced at his older brother’s empty chair.

And Lucian?

Was he proud of her too?

Paris – A New Life, A Hard Road

Cordelia stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a pristine white blouse and a fitted navy skirt. Her reflection stared back at her—a girl no longer reckless, no longer lost, but a woman with purpose.

A woman with vengeance simmering beneath her skin.

Lucian’s school was no ordinary academy.

It was a place designed to break you—to strip away weaknesses and rebuild you into perfection.

The old April Winter wouldn’t have lasted a week here.

But Cordelia Grey?

She had lasted a year.

And she had thrived.

The rigorous lessons, the endless training, the meticulous schedule—she had embraced it all. Where once she had been undisciplined, now she followed structure. Where once she had rejected hard work, now she sought it out.

Georgia had called a few times, telling her she could come home if it was too much.

But every sleepless night she had suffered in the past, every time her parents had ignored her for Ophelia, every time she had cried alone in the dark—

Those memories kept her going.

And now, as she sat at the grand piano, her fingers gliding across the keys, she was no longer the same girl who had first stepped into this academy.

"You’re off tempo."

Cordelia’s fingers stilled.

Her instructor, a stern woman with piercing eyes, narrowed her gaze.

"Start over," the woman ordered.

Cordelia inhaled sharply and placed her fingers back on the keys.

She started again.

The music was beautiful—but not perfect.

"Stop," the woman interrupted, frustration seeping into her tone. "You’re unfocused today."

Cordelia clenched her jaw.

She was trying.

"Are you ill?" the instructor asked, folding her arms.

Cordelia hesitated before shaking her head. "No. I apologize."

The woman sighed, rubbing her temples. "Go rest. You’re no good like this."

With that, she turned and left the practice room, leaving Cordelia alone with her failure.

"Geez, she looks so irritated," a voice piped up.

Amy, Lucian’s assigned assistant for Cordelia, stepped into the room, leaning against the doorway.

Cordelia barely glanced at her.

"I didn’t do well. It’s my fault. Forget it," she murmured.

Amy frowned. "Want me to get you something to eat?"

Cordelia shook her head. "I’m fine."

Amy hesitated but eventually left, closing the door behind her.

Cordelia sighed.

She reached for her phone on the piano bench beside her, absentmindedly opening an app.

Then—her breath caught.

A news article appeared on her screen.

Her blood ran cold.

"SEN WILLIAMS & OPHELIA WINTER TO RESTART THEIR WEDDING PLANS AFTER LAST YEAR’S CANCELLATION."

The words burned into her mind like fire.

Her grip on the phone tightened as she scrolled down, her gaze locking onto the accompanying photo.

Sen and Ophelia, smiling so sweetly, looking every bit the perfect couple.

As if nothing had ever happened.

As if April Winter had never existed.

Cordelia’s breathing turned shallow, her fingers trembling slightly.

"They still got some nerve."

Her voice was a dark whisper in the silent room.

Her hands clenched around the phone so tightly that for a moment, she thought it would crack under the pressure.

Her teeth ground together, her entire body rigid with unfiltered rage.

Then—

She threw the phone onto the bed.

She turned back toward the piano, sitting down with deliberate slowness.

This time, when she placed her fingers against the keys, the music that followed was different.

Sharper.

Angrier.

Stronger.

Fueled by a fire that had never died.

Her revenge wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.