Chapter 159
Ellie POV
I wake up in a bed that feels less like reality and more like something someone would create in a dream.
Before I even open my eyes, I know everything is wrong.
The sheets are too soft. The room is too large. Even the air feels expensive, carrying the scent of polished wood and faint flowers that probably cost more than my entire grocery budget.
For a few seconds, I just lie there, staring into the darkness behind my eyelids.
Soon, a maid will walk in.
She'll offer to help me dress. She'll bring tea. She'll speak politely and carefully, like I'm made of glass.
The bells downstairs will ring as servants prepare breakfast for the members of my...
Family.
I freeze.
Because I am at Dominic's house.
No.
I correct myself immediately.
I am in my house.
Because somehow, against every instinct I've ever had, I managed to become Dominic's fiancée.
Again.
Wonderful.
Absolutely fantastic.
I press my palms over my eyes and groan.
Then last night comes rushing back.
The warmth of him. His voice. The way he held himself back even when every part of him wanted to give in. The way his breath sounded against my skin.
My entire body remembers before my mind can stop it.
My legs press together instinctively, and heat flickers through me.
I freeze.
"Oh, absolutely not," I mutter, staring at the ceiling. "Do not start getting ideas."
As if summoned by my embarrassment, a knock sounds at the door.
I nearly jumped out of the bed.
For one horrible second, panic floods through me.
Then reality catches up.
Right.
I live here now.
Technically.
"Come in," I call, quickly smoothing the blankets like that somehow makes me less suspicious.
The door opens, and a maid steps inside carrying a tray of tea. She gives me a polite smile.
"Good morning, Miss Ellie."
I blink.
Something about her face makes my stomach twist.
She looks younger than I remember.
Of course she does.
Because somehow Dominic and I are together years earlier in this life than we were in my previous one.
That thought alone is enough to make my head hurt.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
The maid tilts her head.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
I almost tell her she doesn't need to be so formal.
Almost.
But explaining that would be far too complicated.
"I'm fine," I say instead. "Just... adjusting."
"I can imagine."
She giggles softly as she places the tray down.
And then I remember.
"Clara."
The name slips out before I can stop it.
She pauses.
My heart drops.
Right.
She doesn't know me.
Not here.
Not yet.
I force a smile.
"I heard Dominic mention your name," I say quickly. "You know how loud this house can be. Thin walls."
A believable excuse.
Barely.
Clara studies me for a moment longer than she should.
Then she smiles.
"Of course. My apologies, ma'am."
There it is.
The formality again.
"Would you like assistance getting dressed?"
Honestly?
Normally, I would refuse.
But after everything I've been through, having someone else handle my hair, clothes, and makeup is surprisingly tempting.
So I nod.
"Sure."
I move to stand.
And Clara immediately gasps.
"You're standing."
I look down.
Huh.
I am.
My feet are touching the floor.
My legs are holding me up.
A small smile pulls at my lips as I wiggle my toes.
I missed this.
The simple act of standing.
Of moving without pain.
But I know better than to trust it completely.
The Moon Goddess has never exactly been generous with guarantees.
I feel like a bird.
Not a free bird.
More like one trapped in an overly decorative cage.
Because apparently breakfast requires a corset.
Clara dresses me in something beautiful but absolutely unnecessary for eight in the morning.
A perfect mix of modern style and old traditions.
Elegant.
Expensive.
And completely unfair.
The heels, however?
A personal attack.
Who decided walking in heels before sunrise was acceptable?
Breakfast downstairs isn't much better.
The dining room looks exactly like I remember.
The polished table.
The shining silverware.
The overwhelming feeling that everything in this house exists to remind people how powerful the family is.
Three servants move around quietly, arranging everything perfectly.
I sit down and immediately have no idea what to do with my hands.
The table feels too large.
Too empty.
Maybe Dominic's parents are already awake and gone.
Or maybe they sleep late.
Although knowing this family, I doubt they sleep at all.
I settle into my old seat from my previous life.
The corner.
The one I always used.
I reach for my tea.
A servant immediately rushes forward to pour it for me.
I almost knock the cup over in surprise.
"Please," I say quickly. "I can do that myself."
The servant only smiles.
Like I told a joke.
This is going to drive me insane.
Then footsteps echo down the staircase.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Familiar.
I know those footsteps.
Dominic.
I keep my eyes on my tea.
I tell myself I am calm.
I tell myself I am not nervous.
I tell myself I am not thinking about last night.
About his hands.
His voice.
The fact that technically...
It didn't count.
Not really.
The bond was accepted.
The marriage contract was signed.
But what happened between us?
That was something else entirely.
And I absolutely refuse to think about it.
At least not before breakfast.