Back in my room, I pulled a folded piece of parchment from my dress. It was the exploration permit I’d just secured for the Aethel Ruins.

The Aethel Ruins—the legendary burial grounds of the ancient vampire dynasties. Countless crystals of power lay buried there, and it was my only chance to find the strength to restore the Vance family name on my own.

In my last life, I’d pinned all my hopes on Mortlock, never thinking to rely on myself. How foolish I was. I unfolded the permit. The date was clear: in seven days, I would be free of this prison.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Grace, I need to see you." It was Mortlock.

I quickly hid the permit. "Come in," I said calmly.

"Grace, we need to talk." He walked toward me. "Your attitude today was... off. Why the sudden indifference?"

I looked at him, a bitter irony rising in my chest.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" I asked. "A mate who isn't jealous, who doesn't argue, who doesn't cause you any trouble?"

Mortlock opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Finally, he managed, "I…"

"If there's nothing else, I'd like to rest," I said, turning back to my wardrobe.

"Wait," Mortlock stopped me. "Actually… I came to ask you for something."

I paused, waiting.

"I need to borrow the Vance family heirloom for a while," he said, his voice hesitant. "The Blood Agate."

The Blood Agate. The treasure passed down through generations of my family, with the power to nourish a vampire's core and amplify their strength. It was one of the last precious things we had left.

I turned slowly to face him. "Why?"

"It's for Isabella," he said, his tone growing serious. "Her bloodline is flawed. She needs the agate's power to stabilize it. Without it, she could..."

"Die?" I finished for him, my voice flat.

"Yes," Mortlock nodded. "Grace, you know she saved my life. I can't just abandon her."

In my past life, when he asked me this, I agreed without a second thought. I did it to please him, to prove how understanding I was.

But now, I no longer had to play the part of the perfect mate.

"Fine," I said coolly.

Surprise flashed in Mortlock’s eyes. "Really?"

"But," I added with a cold smile, "it will cost you your entire prized collection of rare blood."

The look on Mortlock's face froze. His collection was a priceless library of top-tier blood sources, aged for centuries. To trade it for a single agate was an outrageous demand.

A flash of anger crossed his face. But then, as if a thought struck him, a smile curled his lips.

"I see," he said, stepping closer. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You're acting cold on purpose to get my attention. You made an unreasonable demand because you don't want to give the agate to Isabella." His smile grew wider, more confident. "Grace, you do still care about me, don't you?"

I was almost stunned by his arrogance.

But this was good. I couldn't afford any complications, not until I was strong enough to stand on my own. Let him believe his own delusions.

"Fine. I accept your terms," Mortlock said magnanimously. "My entire collection of rare blood for your Blood Agate."

I was surprised he actually agreed. It seemed Isabella meant even more to him than I had imagined.

"Also," he continued, "there's a ball for the blood nobility in two nights. I want you to come with me."

A noble ball? In my last life, Mortlock never took me to any official events. He always said Isabella needed those opportunities to make connections, while I had no need for them.

"Why?" I asked bluntly.

"Because you're my mate," he said, as if it were obvious. "The news of our bonding needs to be made public, doesn't it?"

I was about to refuse when the door was pushed open.

Isabella stood there, wearing the French wedding dress. The silk and lace clung perfectly to her figure.

"Mortlock, what do you think?" she asked, twirling so the white skirt bloomed like a flower.

"Exquisite," Mortlock breathed, his admiration clear.

A sweet smile lit up Isabella’s face. Then, feigning innocence, she pretended she’d just "overheard" us.

"Oh, are you talking about the ball?" A flicker of hurt crossed her face. "Grace, are you going? Or… are you not going because you hate me?"

The words were perfectly chosen. If I refused, I would prove her right and look petty. I didn't want to argue. I just nodded.

The ball was held at Ravencrest Keep. Vampire nobles drifted through the grand hall in their finest attire, dancing to elegant music.

I stood alone in a corner, dressed in a deep blue silk gown, coldly observing the scene.

The center of attention, of course, was Mortlock and Isabella. Isabella was in a shimmering silver gown that sparkled under the lights. She stayed glued to Mortlock's side, and their intimacy drew countless envious stares.

"It seems Prince Mortlock truly favors his little savior. He's completely ignoring his own mate..."

"So the rumors are true. The Prince and Grace really don't get along."

The whispers reached my ears, but I pretended not to hear. I sipped my glass of blood, my mind only on the Aethel Ruins, now just six days away.

"Lady Grace." A vampire approached me, a sneer on his face.

I offered a faint smile. "I find such gatherings... tedious."

"Oh, I understand," he said, lowering his voice. "It must be difficult, watching your own mate with another woman."

I didn't answer, just kept drinking. He was about to say more when Mortlock appeared, with Isabella still in tow.

His sharp gaze fell on the other vampire. "What were you saying to my mate?" Mortlock asked coolly. "Why don't you share it with me?"

The vampire was from a minor house. Terrified by the Prince's aura, he bowed quickly and scurried away.

I looked at Mortlock, at that possessive display, and felt a familiar mix of emotions. It was always like this in my past life. He would always choose Isabella over me, yet he never hid his possessiveness of me. That whiplash was the source of all my pain.

"By the way, Grace," Mortlock said, leaning close to my ear. His voice held a hint of guilt. "I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"About the Consort's chambers…" he began, looking troubled. "I was hoping you could wait a little longer before moving in. Isabella is staying there now, and it would be hard for her to adjust so suddenly. I hope you can be understanding."

The Consort's chambers. The rooms that should have been mine as his bonded mate, now occupied by Isabella. And he was asking me, his wife, to give up my own chambers for his "savior."

"Of course," I said, a faint smile on my lips. "No problem."

Mortlock beamed. "I knew you'd understand."

Just as the last flicker of feeling in my heart died out, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air.

"Look out!"

A silver-tipped bolt shot down from a high window, aimed straight for Isabella. Silver is a deadly poison to our kind. A direct hit could mean severe injury or even death.

Mortlock reacted in a heartbeat. He shoved Isabella behind him, shielding her with his own body. The bolt grazed his shoulder and embedded itself deep in the opposite wall.

But it wasn't over.

A second and a third bolt followed, and the hall erupted into chaos. Nobles screamed and scattered. In the stampede, someone shoved me hard, and I lost my balance, stumbling backward.

Just then, a bolt flew in from the side, striking me in the left shoulder.

"Ah!"

Searing pain shot through me. The silver began to eat at my flesh, and my vision went black as I nearly passed out from the agony. I clutched the wound as blood seeped through my fingers, staining my blue dress red.

Through the crowd, I saw Mortlock clutching Isabella, whispering to her, trying to calm her down.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here," his voice was heartbreakingly gentle.

He hadn't even noticed me on the floor.

Not until a Duke shouted in panic, "Lady Grace! You've been hit!"

Only then did Mortlock finally look up in my direction. As he did, the pain overwhelmed me, and I slipped into darkness.

I woke up three days later.

My vampire healing had purged the silver poison, but the wound still ached. I was lying in my own bed. Through a crack in the curtains, I could see the deep night outside.

My handmaiden, Mira, was at my bedside. Seeing me awake, she shot to her feet. "My lady! You're finally awake! I'll go tell the Prince at once!"

"Don't," I stopped her, my voice hoarse. "Where is he?"

"The Prince has been with Lady Isabella these past three days," Mira said carefully. "She was badly frightened and has had a high fever ever since."

I closed my eyes, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Just as I expected.

Even when I was poisoned and my life was uncertain, Isabella was still all that mattered to him.

"I'd like to rest," I said softly.

Mira nodded. As she was about to leave, there was a knock on the door.

"Grace?" It was Mortlock. "I heard you were awake. Are you all right?"

Mira moved to open the door, but I stopped her.

When I didn't answer, Mortlock didn't get angry. His voice, when he spoke again, was heavy with exhaustion. "I'm sorry. I should have protected you better that day. I'll make it up to you. Anything you want."

I listened in silence, a scornful feeling rising inside me.

Make it up to you.

It was always about making it up to me.

"How is Isabella?" I asked.

"She… she was terrified. She's still running a fever. The physician says she needs someone with her to feel safe." His voice was filled with worry. "So I…"

"Go back and take care of her," I finished the sentence for him.

Mortlock paused. "Grace, I promise, as soon as she's better, I'll spend all my time with you."

I said nothing more.

After a long silence, I heard his footsteps walking away.

When the sound was completely gone, I sat up.

"My lady, you need to rest…" Mira said, concerned.

"Bring me some blood," I told her. "I need to get my strength back."

That night, while Mortlock was busy with Isabella, I slipped into his chambers. Moonlight streamed through the windows, bathing everything in a silver glow.

One by one, I began to gather the gifts I had once given him.

A pair of silver cufflinks engraved with our names.

A gemstone I had found for him.

And the love letters I’d written, which he kept neatly in a wooden box.

I placed them all in a bag I’d prepared, my heart surprisingly calm. All these things that held so much of my love now seemed like a joke. I had been so naive, thinking that if I just gave him enough, loved him enough, I could win his heart.

I know better now. You can't earn what was never meant for you.

Finally, I took out my copy of the blood bond. Isabella’s name was sharp and damning in the moonlight. I placed it in the very center of his desk, where he couldn't miss it.

Then, on a clean sheet of paper, I wrote a single sentence:

You have your wish.

With those words written, I felt lighter than I had in two lifetimes. The shackles that had bound me were finally broken.

I returned to my room and picked up the bag I’d packed long ago. It held everything I needed for the Aethel Ruins, along with all the savings I'd taken from my family's vaults.

I walked down the long corridor, out the gates of the keep, and into the night.

I never looked back.

Goodbye, Mortlock Versta.