Amy sat in a quiet room, her phone pressed against her ear as she listened to Lucian’s calm yet firm instructions.

"She’s not doing well," Amy reported, her voice laced with mild concern. "Her teacher was annoyed today, but more importantly… she looks unwell."

A brief silence followed before Lucian’s voice came through, cool and composed.

"Keep her away from the phone and the computer for the next few days," he ordered.

Amy quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "You think she saw something?"

"Just do it."

Amy smirked slightly but nodded. "Understood, boss. I’ll notify you if anything else happens."

Lucian ended the call, and Amy stared at her phone with amusement.

"Tsk. You sure are invested in her, aren’t you?"

She chuckled to herself before setting the phone down and making her way back toward Lia’s room.

—

The Perfect Bride

Laughter and idle chatter filled the bridal suite as Ophelia sat comfortably in the styling chair, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

Sen stood behind her, arms crossed, watching with quiet curiosity.

"You’re styling your hair differently?" he asked, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

Ophelia smiled sweetly. "Yes! I want a new look for the wedding photoshoot."

Sen hesitated, staring at the stylist as she began her work.

Something about this new look felt strangely familiar.

Too familiar.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Ophelia suddenly turned, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Don’t you like it?" she pouted playfully.

Sen’s expression flickered for a brief moment before settling into a resigned nod.

"Sure," he muttered. "Anything you want."

Satisfied, Ophelia turned back to the mirror, watching as the stylist worked through her dark locks.

"Make sure there are no mistakes," she instructed, her voice light yet laced with expectation. "I want to be the most beautiful bride."

Her eyes glowed with satisfaction.

The reflection staring back at her—

The soft curls. The precise shape.

She looked just like her.

Like April.

Ophelia’s lips curled into a smile.

—

Paris – A Star in the Making

In a dimly lit practice room, Cordelia stood in front of a large mirror, a script clutched tightly in her hands.

She had read the lines over and over again, repeating them until they became second nature.

"Emotions must feel real."

"A single expression can tell a thousand stories."

"You are no longer Cordelia. You become the character."

She inhaled deeply and whispered the words again, letting them flow naturally.

Not a single stumble.

Not a single hesitation.

Her professor’s voice rang in her mind—sharp, demanding perfection.

And Cordelia Grey would settle for nothing less.

—

Two Years Later

Time passed once more.

Ophelia Winter and Sen Williams were married.

The extravagant wedding was splashed across every news article, the couple celebrated like royalty.

Photos of Ophelia draped in a designer gown, Sen standing tall beside her, their hands intertwined, flooded the media.

They had done it.

The perfect couple.

The perfect life.

April Winter was nothing more than a ghost now.

A forgotten past.

Or so they thought.

—

Meanwhile, in Paris—

Cordelia Grey completed all the tasks Lucian had assigned her.

She graduated from the most prestigious academy of Music and Acting, leaving with top honors.

Her name—once unknown—was now recognized among industry elites.

Cordelia Grey was no longer just a student.

She had built a reputation.

She had become somebody.

But it still wasn’t enough.

There was still more to come.

Still more to take back.

Cordelia stood before a towering stage, staring at the spotlight waiting for her.

Her lips parted into a slow, knowing smile.

It was time.

Time to step back into the world that had cast her aside.

Time for her return.