The Breaking Point

Three days.

That's how long it had been since I left the Hartwell estate and began my journey to the capital. Three days of endless trees blurring past the carriage window. Three days of silence, with nothing but the rumble of wheels and the weight of unspoken questions sitting heavy in my chest.

What happened after I left? Was Julian alright? Did anyone notice I was gone?

I didn't have time to finish that thought.

"My lady, we've arrived," the coachman called, his voice muffled through the closed window.

I peered out. The carriage had stopped before an opulent palace—marble pillars, towering stained glass windows, and sprawling gardens that whispered of old money and careful elegance.

"Thank you, coachman," I said, pushing open the carriage door. A pair of palace servants, a butler and a maid, were already unloading my luggage with smooth efficiency.

Then she appeared.

A woman, tall, composed, draped in flowing navy silk and silver embroidery. Every step she took radiated authority. She looked like a queen.

"Hello, Miss Lily Hartwell," she greeted with a warm but knowing smile.

The maid beside me leaned in and whispered, "That's Viscountess Serenya Valewyn."

I blinked. That name didn't ring a bell. Serenya returned my silence with a gentle smile.

"Did you have a safe trip?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered automatically. Well… apart from almost being murdered. But I suppose, in the grand scheme, arriving alive counts as a success.

Serenya gave a polite nod and turned, motioning for me to follow her. "Let me show you to your room."

As we walked through the long, lavish halls, her footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors. Her name still lingered in my thoughts. I'd been in this world for three months now, but I didn't recall her role in the novel. That meant only one thing—I needed to consult my notebook.

We stopped before a grand marble door at the end of the west wing. Twelve feet tall, carved with twisting vines and roses.

"This is your room," Serenya said, offering me one last smile. "Please, feel at home."

She left without another word.

I turned the golden handle and pushed open the door. The room was round and elegant, with soft beige tones and gold trim. Two large windows bathed the space in afternoon light. A circular rug sat in the center of the floor, beneath a round, canopied bed. It was luxurious, though, if I were being honest, not quite as grand as my room back at Hartwell.

I collapsed onto the bed with a soft sigh. The mattress was plush, but not as cloud-like as what I'd grown used to. I glanced around the room, trying to memorize every inch of it.

Then the door creaked open behind me.

The maids returned—three of them this time, the same ones who'd carried my bags. But instead of placing them gently, they tossed them onto the floor like garbage.

Their eyes gleamed with disdain.

They didn't need to speak. I could already tell—this short stay at the palace would be hell.

Once they left, I opened one of the suitcases and pulled out my black leather notebook. Inside were detailed notes—every character in the novel, listed by their first appearance, relationships, talents, and roles.

I flipped through the pages, searching for Serenya Valewyn. Nothing.

But then—Caelis Valewyn. Same last name.

He was described as a nobleman with a friendly rivalry with Prince Alistair and a growing bond with Julian. According to the novel, he eventually developed a crush on Lily Hartwell… when she was eighteen and already the Crown Princess.

That didn't line up.

Why, then, was I—Lily—already here in the capital, months before that meeting was supposed to happen?

More importantly, why did Julian send me to stay with this woman?

Did he and the Valewyns know each other?

The questions tumbled in my head, unanswered. As I was lost in thought, the sky outside darkened into night. I reached for the nearby lamp and lit it, casting a warm glow across the polished floor.

Tomorrow, I knew, was the day the mysterious knight would first appear—the one who tried to assassinate the king.

My stomach growled. I stood, hoping there might be something to eat in the hallway. But as soon as I opened the door—

Rough hands yanked me back inside.

Six maids. All from earlier. One of them—tall, sharp-featured, cruel-eyed—seemed to be their leader.

"Hold her," she snapped.

They pinned me down. I struggled, but their grip was tight.

"Look, Cole," one maid sneered, rifling through my suitcase. "Jewelry. Expensive."

The leader, Cole, smirked. "Put it all in the bag."

They were here to rob me.

Cole crouched in front of me, eyes glinting with malice. "You're so pathetic," she sneered, then nodded for one of the maids to let go of my mouth.

"You're a grown woman, bullying a girl. Who's pathetic?" I spat, glaring at her.

She slapped me hard across the face.

"I may be stealing," she hissed, "but that necklace? That money? That comes from the blood of enslaved children your parents sold. You privileged filth don't even know what it means to work."

She yanked off my necklace and spat in my face.

I didn't flinch. I just glared. That only made her angrier.

"You stupid, stupid girl. You think anyone will believe you if you tell?" she mocked. "We've done this before. We know how to cover our tracks. All they'll see is the daughter of two criminals crying."

She was right. Just like before.

When I was a child, my so-called best friend had weaponized my father's abuse against me. She'd lie, trick me into doing things, and then threaten to tell him if I refused. I obeyed. I suffered. And no one believed me.

Not then.

But now?

I'd had enough.

I wasn't afraid anymore.

As the last of my jewelry disappeared into their bag and the maid holding me loosened her grip, I moved.

Fast.

I lunged toward my suitcase, pulled out a pocketknife, and drove it into the back of the nearest maid.

Her scream tore through the room.

The others froze, eyes wide in shock.

Two of them turned and fled. Cole and another were charged.

I threw the knife.

It struck one of them in the shoulder. She went down.

I grabbed a heavy porcelain vase and hurled it at the other.

It shattered against her skull.

Cole ducked and lunged.

But I was ready.

And this time, I wasn't the victim anymore.