Cordelia exhaled slowly as she walked away from the main party hall, heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. Her gown shimmered with each step, but her insides churned. She'd told Sen it would be better to speak somewhere secluded, away from the press and the buzzing eyes of the elite. She couldn't afford scandal—not yet.

Lucian, ever the watchful shadow, had made his presence known to Sen just before his departure. “I hope it’s strictly business, Mr. Williams,” he said, eyes like sharpened blades. “After all, you are a married man.”

Sen gave a nervous chuckle and nodded. “Of course. Just a short, private conversation.”

Lucian let him go, but not without watching his every move.

Down the quiet hallway, just past a row of tall windows overlooking the garden, Cordelia stood poised.

“What is it you wish to speak about?” she asked, her voice distant, controlled.

Sen didn’t answer. Instead, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

Cordelia froze, her eyes wide with disbelief as she felt the familiarity in his touch—and the nausea of past betrayal.

“April…” Sen whispered, “I missed you so much.”

She shoved him off, fury flickering behind her eyes. “Excuse me, mister, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else!”

“April? What are you—what’s wrong with you?” Sen asked, bewildered. “It’s me. It’s Sen.”

Cordelia gave a breathy laugh, full of disbelief. “Are you serious right now? Are you actually trying to pretend we know each other?”

“Why are you talking like that? Why are you even here?” he demanded.

“Like I said, I think you’ve confused me with someone else,” Cordelia replied, stepping back with a look of growing fear. “You said this was about work, but clearly, your intentions are inappropriate. Are you some kind of creep?”

Sen stood frozen, dumbfounded.

“I—I’m sorry,” he muttered and stumbled away, eyes clouded with confusion.

As he left, Cordelia clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her façade had been perfect—but it hurt more than she expected.

Behind a decorative column, hidden in the shadows, a pair of eyes gleamed.

Ophelia.

She’d seen everything—and she was smiling.

“Oh, so that’s not April,” she whispered to herself, glee bubbling inside her. “I must’ve imagined the whole thing. Ha! All that worry for nothing.”

Ophelia swanned back into the party, her confidence renewed. Meanwhile, Cordelia returned moments later, composed but with a hunger for wine. She threw back a glass, then another, her gaze drifting—but Sen and Ophelia had vanished.

She smiled to herself, her voice an echo in her mind: I’ll make you both lose your minds slowly. I’ll give you nightmares with your eyes wide open.

—

Across the room, Sen gripped the edge of a table, trying to steady himself. That had to be April. It had to be. Look-alikes weren’t that perfect—not the voice, not the way her eyes glinted in the light, not the way her lips quirked when she lied. That was her. He just didn’t understand why she was pretending.

“You okay, Mr. Williams?” a nearby guest asked.

“I’m fine,” he muttered and forced himself to walk back into the main hall.

His eyes immediately found Cordelia—April. But his breath caught when he saw Ophelia walking straight toward her.

“Mrs. Williams,” Cordelia greeted with a too-sweet smile. Her tone, though polite, was colder than ice.

Ophelia flinched, but quickly recovered. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Cordelia tilted her head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I overheard you and my husband talking earlier. I wanted to say... I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. You reminded us of someone—my sister, April.”

Cordelia’s nails dug deeper behind her back. Here it comes, she thought.

“My sister had an accident… two years ago. She passed away,” Ophelia said with a rehearsed mournful expression, though Cordelia noticed her lips twitch with satisfaction.

“You look exactly like her,” she added, her voice trembling for dramatic effect.

Cordelia offered a neutral smile. “That would explain a lot. So that’s why your husband acted so… strangely and hugged me.”

Ophelia hid her displeasure and nodded, gaze flicking toward Sen.

“He must’ve really cared about her,” Cordelia mused aloud.

Ophelia’s smile stiffened. “Sometimes… I think he cared for her more than me.”

“Wow,” Cordelia said, sipping her wine. “That’s heavy. He must’ve loved her deeply.”

Ophelia’s composure cracked for just a second. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cordelia replied with a teasing smile. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Ophelia forced another laugh, soft and fake. “Of course not.”

Then, ever the schemer, she pulled out her phone. “I still keep her picture. Look.”

She handed it over, and Cordelia’s breath stuttered. It was her. Before the fall. Before the betrayal. Before the ocean.

“Wow,” Cordelia said, laughing lightly to hide her clenched jaw. “We really do look similar.”

“I thought so too. For a moment, I even doubted you weren’t her,” Ophelia said with a sweet smile, though her eyes were anything but kind.

“But now, looking at you closely... I can see it. You’re definitely not April,” she added.

“Of course,” Cordelia said, handing back the phone just as Jeremy arrived to call her away.

Cordelia excused herself with one last smile, disappearing into the crowd.

Ophelia turned back to Sen, slipping her hand into his. “She’s not April,” she whispered. “Just a coincidence.”

But the storm that was Cordelia Grey had just begun. And neither of them—Sen nor Ophelia—had any idea how close that storm was to breaking.