A month had slipped by like quiet shadows in Willowbrook Manor, my self-imposed exile from the world's sharp edges. A part of me did this to protect me from the outside threats, but the other part of me did this because of my 'depression.' Well, I am not exactly 'depressed'—maybe something in between.
I'd cut myself off completely—no social media scrolls, no tabloid glances, just the woods whispering outside bay windows. A completely isolated place made me realize a lot of things. Either I can choose peace, or I can choose getting hurt.
Have I decided what to do?
No, I haven't. I still can't decide what to do with my life. Will I waste my reincarnation? I don't know about that either.
My 'cheap' parents—Viktor and Elena—had blown up my phone with calls and texts at first, voicemails dripping false concern.
Emily, come home. You can't survive outside.
Family talks.
We are family, you little girl! And you can't ignore us!
Emily! What the fuck are you thinking?! Come back home before something bad happens to you!
There were lot of messages which were similar to this but I'd deleted them all, screen dark and silent now.
There was no need for any sort of contact with them.
No chains. Never.
I also blocked Alexei's number, his creepy vibes a ghost I refused to summon.
That afternoon, sunlight pooled honey-gold on honey-oak floors, dust motes dancing lazy in living room beams. I lounged on the gray sectional, feet tucked under, raven hair loose and wild post-shower, emerald eyes half-lidded from a long sewing session.
Curiosity tugged—I grabbed the remote, flicking on the flatscreen mounted above the stone fireplace. First channel—glitz and glamour, the annual Starlight Awards beaming live from a glittering auditorium.
Spotlights swept red carpet royalty, gowns shimmering under chandeliers like captured stars. Cheers erupted as the Best Actress category flashed—nominees scrolling, Lily Warren's name glowing top.
My stomach twisted faint, old mall ice flickering memory. There she was—orange curls pinned elegant, porcelain skin radiant in a sapphire gown hugging her tall curves, doe-brown eyes wide with practiced poise.
The presenter strode centre stage—a tall figure in tailored black tux, golden hair tousled perfect, chiselled jaw and ocean-blue eyes screaming leading man. Ryan Lightwood, third male lead from the novel—the movie industry's golden boy, A-list actor with a string of blockbusters, smitten with Lily in the plotline.
He held the crystal trophy high, voice smooth velvet over mics. He yelled, "For embodying grace, fire, and unbreakable spirit... Lily Warren. THE BEST ACTRESS OF THE YEAR!!" His loving gaze lingered too long as he handed it over, fingers brushing hers as they smiled at each other. The paparazzi will be really happy tonight.
Lily's smile beamed pure, acceptance speech thanking 'fans, family, and those who light the way.'
Crowd roared at her speech as cameras zoomed her tear-glisten.
I snorted soft, sinking deeper into sofa cushions. Let the story unfold on its own. I'm not interrupting their fairy tale. The heroine can keep her male leads all for herself.
Ryan's obsession played out scripted—the heroine's glow always drawn moths, right?
Me? I am the villainess who would be faded to woods-shadow, no drama needed. Closing the TV with the remote, I stood up as I put it on the table.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed sharp on coffee table—unknown number, city code unfamiliar. Hesitation gripped me as I took a deep breath.
A spam? Was it Victor? My heart ticked faster, but curiosity won. With a small shake of my head, my thumb swiped green.
"Hello? Who's this?"
A woman's voice, crisp and warm, filtered through. "Good evening. Am I speaking to Ms. Emily Leonhart?" How did she know my name?
I hesitated for a moment as countless thoughts danced inside my brain.
"Yes. That's me."
"Perfect. My name is Hellen Jacksen. I'd like to discuss business with you."
This gathered my attention towards her. "Business? What kind of business?"
She paused for a moment, papers rustling faint. "I've followed your story closely. Rumours always swirled in our line of business—no investors biting for you, right? Banks slamming doors despite your brilliant concepts. I have heard that you father has blacklisted you. Is it true?"
Wow, she is direct, isn't she? At least, she should be a little indirect about this.
I said, "They rejected me flat—told that they don't want to take risk with me. But what's your angle?"
"Opportunity. I want mutual benefit. I will fund you, Ms. Emily. But it will be in a different way. Are you ready to talk?"
Hope sparked inside me, though my wariness flared equally to balance each other. "What exactly do you need from me?" Human beings always want something in return for the help they provided, no one helps someone for free.
"I will give you all the details in person. Can we meet today? Coffee or full meet—your call." Why does she want to meet me?
My mind raced when I heard her words. Should I go out? Or should I call her here? Both are equally dangerous.
I said, "Okay. Send location." Calling her to my house is much more dangerous, but I don't want to go outside. "Actually, I'll text my address. Should we meet tomorrow morning?"
"Today works better—time waits for no one, Ms. Emily. It would be better if we meet as soon as possible. So, can you send me your address now?"
Why is she so interested? Fear gripped my heart as my hands trembled a bit. Should I refuse her? But what will happen if I refuse? Do I really want to live a mediocre life? Am I going to waste this life of mine? "See you soon, Ms. Leonhart. This changes everything." With a click, she cut the phone.
Did I make the right decision? I am scared, but I am excited too. It was utterly risky of me to text her my address as it might backfire on me.
"Please let her be a valid person," I whispered.