Mrs. Whitlock's lips tightened, then softened. "We are counting on you," she said, her voice low and weighted with expectation.

"I know," Nina replied, her voice steady, even if her hands weren't.

Mr. Whitlock stepped forward, commanding the room with an ease born from decades of power. "Now," he said, his voice rich and authoritative, "it's time for the celebrant to take her stage."

And with that, the moment she had been preparing for was finally here.

The applause was deafening as Nina stepped forward, a sea of faces watching her with anticipation. They weren't here for her, but for Adelaide-the girl whose life she was borrowing. The weight of it pressed on her, but she knew this was her moment to embody Adelaide, to deliver the speech she would have given if fate had been kinder.

"Thank you, everyone," she began, her voice steady despite the thundering of her heart. "For gracing this occasion with me today. I feel honored and loved to have you all here with me tonight. This makes me feel truly special, and I know you all think the same way too."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the crowd, taking in their reactions. Some faces smiled warmly, their expressions radiating approval. Others, less convinced, exchanged whispered thoughts and skeptical glances. Her heart skipped a beat as she registered their doubt, but she pressed on-or at least, she tried to.

Then her eyes drifted-unintentionally but inevitably-toward the cluster of power in the room: the six ruling families. It was impossible to ignore their looming presence. And there, standing among them with a calm, unreadable demeanor, was Axel.

Their gazes locked.

Unlike the earlier encounter with the stranger who had smirked at her, Axel's stare didn't waver, didn't flinch. He didn't smile, didn't frown. He just... looked. And somehow, that made it worse. His piercing gaze felt as if it could strip away every layer of pretense, exposing the truth she had worked so hard to conceal.

Was it suspicion in his eyes? Curiosity? Or, worse, certainty? The longer she stared back, the more she felt the panic creeping in, like icy tendrils wrapping around her chest. Did he know? Could he tell she wasn't Adelaide?

The words of her speech dissolved into the void.

"Adelaide." Mr. Whitlock's sharp whisper cut through her spiraling thoughts. She blinked, realizing, to her horror, that she had stopped mid-sentence. The crowd was silent, waiting, their curiosity quickly morphing into confusion.

Her gaze darted to Mr. Whitlock, and the tension etched into his features was impossible to miss. His expression screamed fix this, now."I-" Her voice came out a whisper, trembling. "I forgot my line."

His eyes widened, his face tightening with barely concealed panic. "You what?" he hissed.

A murmur rippled through the audience, a low buzz of speculation. They were analyzing her, dissecting every second of her failure. The pressure was suffocating. Her mind raced between two choices: crumble under their scrutiny or claw her way back to control.

She chose the latter.

Forcing her gaze away from Mr. Whitlock, she straightened her back and turned to face the crowd. Her palms felt clammy, her heart a wild drumbeat, but she shut her eyes and breathed deeply, centering herself. In... out... in... out.

When she opened her eyes again, she felt steadier, though she refused to meet anyone's gaze. Instead, she looked just above their heads, focusing on the chandeliers glinting softly overhead.

"I apologize," she resumed, her voice regaining a thread of confidence. "It seems I got a bit carried away in the emotion of the moment." She projected a tone of ease, though her pulse was racing beneath the surface.

The crowd's murmurs quieted, their collective energy shifting as they took in her recovery. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to regain some footing.

"I was having a conversation with my father, who told me just how concerned many of you were after my last crisis. He even mentioned that Mr. Heisenberg came by three times a day to check if I was still alive." She let her words linger, lacing them with subtle sarcasm as she scanned the room. "And let me tell you, his dedication was... inspiring. The kind capable of pushing even the dead out of the grave. And so, I asked myself-why should I give up when I have the likes of Mr. Heisenberg, who is so invested in my survival?"

A ripple of uneasy chuckles echoed through the room, and she allowed herself a fleeting smile before continuing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Whitlock relax ever so slightly, his rigid posture softening. She knew she wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least she had stopped the freefall.

Now, she just had to make it through the rest of the evening without looking at Axel again.

"This brings me to my next point of gratitude-to my parents." She turned slightly, glancing back at Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. Their faces were a study in barely concealed surprise, their carefully constructed masks faltering. It was obvious she had strayed off script.

"Thank you," she said, letting her voice soften. "For your endless love and support. For doing everything in your power to see me well and whole again. Without you, I wouldn't be standing here today."

As she spoke, their expressions betrayed a flicker of something-confusion, maybe even disbelief. The real Adelaide, she suspected, would never have said these words. But did she regret veering from the carefully planned lines? Not at all.

Turning back to the crowd, she let the silence linger, heavy and deliberate. The weight of expectation hung in the air. "So now," she said, her voice rising just enough to carry across the room, "I ask all of you to join me in showing our appreciation for them with a round of applause."

She started clapping, slow and steady, the sound reverberating in the stillness. One by one, others joined in, the applause swelling into a thunderous ovation. The room seemed to vibrate with the collective energy.

When she glanced back at Mrs. Whitlock, her composure was slipping. Her eyes glistened, and though she tried desperately to keep her emotions in check, the cracks were beginning to show.

The applause grew louder, an overwhelming wave of sound that threatened to drown everything else. Nina raised a hand, signaling for calm. "Thank you," she said, her voice firm but tinged with gratitude. "That's enough."

The room gradually quieted, the tension giving way to an expectant hush. She took a steadying breath and continued, "Before I end my speech tonight, I have one final announcement to share. And I believe it's something you'll all find... encouraging."

A ripple of curiosity passed through the audience. She let the pause stretch, the anticipation building like the crest of a wave.

"As many of you know, my health has been a constant concern-a shadow that has loomed over my family and, perhaps, over some of you as well." Her tone was measured, each word carefully placed. "But tonight, I bring you wonderful news. The latest laboratory trial was a success."

A collective gasp swept through the room, the sound sharp and electric. Faces shifted from curiosity to astonishment. She held the silence for a beat longer before delivering the next blow.

"Not only was the trial successful, but after undergoing the treatment myself, I feel stronger than I have in years. And, thanks to a secret antidote my parents searched the world to find, my immune system is now fortified like never before."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the room. "So, I say to you all-there is no need to worry about the Whitlocks losing their successor. I am here to stay."

The silence that followed was deafening. Every face in the room was frozen, grappling with the weight of her words. Then, like a crack of lightning, a voice rang out.

"And we shall all raise our glasses and cheer to that!"

Nina turned quickly toward the speaker, her eyes locking with Axel's. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze-a glint of approval, or perhaps amusement-that left her both unsettled and oddly satisfied.

Waiters moved through the room, trays of wine glasses balanced effortlessly in their hands. The soft clink of crystal broke the stillness as glasses were lifted. When a tray passed her, she reached for a glass, the cool surface grounding her.

Axel's bold interjection had shattered the tension, turning the moment into something more than just an announcement. It felt monumental.

She raised her glass, mirroring the gesture of the room, the crystal catching the light as it tilted upward. The path ahead was still shrouded in uncertainty, but for now, she had done what was needed. She had delivered a performance worthy of the name Adelaide Whitlock.

After the glass-clinking cheers subsided, the room seamlessly shifted into a celebratory mood. Laughter and conversation filled the air, but Nina's attention was drawn to movement nearby. Mrs. Whitlock, her posture rigid and her strides purposeful, was making her way toward the grand staircase. Mr. Whitlock followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

She froze, watching their retreating figures disappear up the stairs. Their abrupt departure left her rooted in place, her thoughts racing. Had she said something wrong during the speech? Had she unintentionally gone too far?

Before she could untangle her thoughts, Frederick and his wife, Salome, approached.

"Niece," Frederick said warmly, his voice cutting through her spiraling confusion. "It's so good to see that you're well and alive."

Nina forced a polite but strained smile. "Uncle. Salome. It's wonderful to see you again."

They leaned in, offering the customary familial kisses, and she obliged, the gesture feeling mechanical, as though she had done it countless times before.

"Where's Jude?" she asked, steering the conversation to safer ground, relying on the lines she had rehearsed so thoroughly that they now came naturally. "I thought he'd be here, but I haven't seen him."

Jude-her cousin, at least in name. The man whose history she had studied alongside Adelaide's. From the notes and lessons drilled into her, she knew he was a wildcard in the intricate web of family politics. If she hadn't stepped into Adelaide's role so quickly after her death, Jude's family might have been next in line to take center stage. His strong personality and popularity made him a formidable contender. Unless the other powerful families had united to label him incompetent, the superior power might have gone to Frederick Whitlock's side of the family.

And yet, from everything she had read, Jude was well-loved. A natural charmer, he mingled effortlessly with everyone, showing no preference for class or status. He was, undeniably, a people's person. Truth be told, he was one of the few people she had been genuinely curious to meet.

Frederick chuckled, his tone lighthearted. "Ah, Jude. You know how he is. Always on the move." He gestured toward a far corner of the room. "There he is, with his group of friends. Always the charmer, that one. That boy never ceases to amaze us, even as his parents."

Nina followed Frederick's gaze, and there he was-Jude. He was surrounded by a group of people, laughing easily, his charisma practically radiating from him. But something else caught her attention-something that made her breath hitch.

Jude wasn't just with any group of friends. He was with them. The wolves. Lily and that strange man who had smirked at her earlier.

She blinked, stunned, her thoughts scrambling to process what she was seeing. What was Jude doing with the wolves? Not just casually near them, but openly engaging with them like old friends?

Had Adelaide known about this? Shouldn't Jude have been on her side, standing firmly with those she trusted? Shouldn't he have liked who she liked and despised who she despised? That was the expectation, wasn't it?

And yet, here he was, laughing with people who should have been Adelaide's adversaries.

A creeping sense of unease settled over Nina. Why hadn't Adele-Adelaide's AI, her digital shadow-warned her about this? If Jude was this close to the wolves, what else might she have missed?

She remained speechless, frozen in place, watching Jude laugh and chat easily with his group of friends. And then, just as she was trying to process the scene, his eyes met hers. His already bright smile widened, transforming his face with unmistakable warmth. With a quick pat on Lily's shoulder, he excused himself and strode toward her.

"Cousin!" he called out, his arms spreading wide as he approached. "Now it's my turn. Can I have my hug?"

For a moment, Nina didn't know what to do or say. Her mind raced to come up with a response. The script was useless now-she had to improvise.

"I was just talking about you with your parents," she managed, striving for casualness. "They told me you'd rather spend time with your friends than with me."

Jude threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. "And did they also tell you I'm plotting with them to steal you away so you don't have to marry Axel next month?"

"Wait. What?" The word escaped before she could stop it, her shock far too real. Marry Axel? Adelaide was engaged? No one had told her. Why was she finding out like this?

Jude's laughter faded, replaced by a frown of confusion. Beside him, Frederick and Salome exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions mirroring their son's. They were all staring at her now, trying to make sense of her reaction.

Nina struggled to rein in her emotions, but her mind was spinning. Instinctively, her gaze drifted toward the Graves table. Axel was there, his family engaged in lively conversation, but unlike them, he wasn't distracted. His attention was solely on her.

Oh no. He was watching her again.

It was the same piercing, unsettling gaze as before, as if he could see past her practiced demeanor and straight into the truth she was hiding. Her heart raced, and she quickly averted her eyes, unable to withstand the weight of his stare.

He knew. Or at least, he suspected. She could feel it in the way his gaze lingered-heavy, unrelenting. He was waiting for a moment alone with her, and she dreaded it.

The rest of her conversation with Jude and his family blurred into meaningless noise. She nodded and smiled in all the right places, but she wasn't fully present. Her mind kept circling back to Axel and the unnerving realization that she wasn't as prepared as she had thought.

More families stepped forward, ready to greet her, their smiles pleasant, but their eyes sharp, scanning her for cracks in her facade. They left her no space to breathe, no chance to recover. The effort of maintaining Adelaide's charm and poise was beginning to wear on her.

Almost an hour passed, yet more families lined up, each eager for their turn. Sweat prickled at her skin, exhaustion and anxiety pooling inwardly. She wished-prayed-that someone, anyone, would come to her rescue.

Just as she felt on the brink of collapse, a deep male voice cut through the chatter.

"Sorry, everyone, but time's up. I need my fiancée now."

The words startled her, and she turned toward the source. Axel.

He appeared beside her with an air of authority that left no room for argument. Before she could fully process what was happening, he claimed her arm and whisked her away with such ease it was as though he had done it a hundred times before. The murmur of voices behind them faded as they stepped into the cool night air.

As they walked, she found herself glancing up at him, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He looked calm and composed, his grip firm but not forceful. For the first time, she wondered if this was why Adelaide had fallen for Axel.

There was a quiet strength about him, a confidence that made it seem like he could shield her from anything-even the relentless judgment of a room full of wolves. He was far more of a gentleman than she had imagined.

Not that she had spent much time imagining him at all.

Or had she?

Axel didn't say a word as they moved farther from the prying eyes inside. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt charged-like there were things unsaid, hanging in the air.

When they finally reached the edge of the garden, where the only light came from the soft glow of lanterns strung among the trees, he stopped and released her arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

She nodded quickly, too quickly, and tried to compose herself. "Yes, of course. Thank you for stepping in back there. I thought I might..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words.

"Collapse?" he finished for her, his lips twitching in the hint of a smirk.

She huffed out a breath that was half a laugh, half exasperation. "Something like that."

His gaze lingered on her, searching, as if he were trying to piece something together. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard. They'll take whatever you give them and then some more. If you don't set those boundaries."

"I didn't have much of a choice," she admitted. "They just kept coming, one after the other. I couldn't exactly walk away."

"You could have. You always had," he said simply. "But you didn't."

She looked at him, confused by the weight of his words. There was no accusation in his tone, just an observation that felt more layered than it seemed on the surface.

"You really care about convincing them, don't you?" he added.

She hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Did he mean the families? The crowd? Or...him?

"Of course," she said carefully. "It's important. For my family."

"For your family," he echoed, his tone unreadable.

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves carried by the cool evening breeze. His eyes bore into hers, piercing and unrelenting, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling as if he could see far more than she wanted him to.

"So..." she began, forcing a smile and desperately trying to steer the conversation somewhere lighter. "Did you have fun? Two months without me breathing down your neck must've been freeing, right?" Her voice sounded breezy, almost playful.

His expression darkened, and the teasing tone she'd hoped for evaporated. "Fun?" he repeated, his voice low, tinged with something raw. "No, D. Those two weeks were one of the worst days of my life. I was terrified."

The words hit her like a gust of wind.

He ran a hand through his hair, his face crumpling slightly as he spoke. "I thought I might never see you again. I came every day, hoping-begging-to see you, but your parents wouldn't even let me through the door." He exhaled sharply, his eyes closing as though trying to shut out the memories. Or maybe he was holding back tears.

Guilt clawed at her chest, sharp and unrelenting. His worst fear had come true. The real Adelaide was gone, and here she was, pretending to be her. His fiancée, the woman he clearly loved, was dead, and she was just a stand-in, fumbling through a role she wasn't sure she liked to play anymore.

What would he do if he found out? If he learned she wasn't Adelaide? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

She shivered, though it wasn't from the cold. He noticed instantly. "You're freezing. Do you want to go inside?"

"No, I'm fine," she said quickly, trying to sound casual. "I can manage."

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze soft but unwavering. Then he nodded. "Alright. Let's sit over there." He gestured toward a bench nestled in the garden.

As they started walking, he stopped abruptly. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll grab my jacket. I don't want you freezing to death on me." His tone was light, but his eyes carried a seriousness that made her chest tighten.

She nodded and watched him stride off. He moved quickly, purposefully, the way someone does when they care. And as she made her way to the bench, a thought crept into her mind. How fragile had Adelaide been that even a gentle breeze could be a threat? She must've lived a hard, delicate life.

She sank onto the bench, the quiet of the garden wrapping around her like a blanket. The cool air felt refreshing, a welcome contrast to the suffocating months she'd spent indoors, poring over Adelaide's life, memorizing scripts, and learning to become someone else.

As she waited for Axel to return, her thoughts drifted. What would life as Adelaide Whitlock look like from now on? Would she still be confined to her room, constantly monitored? Had she finally passed whatever test the Whitlocks had set for her? Would they now treat her as one of their own?

And then there was the earlier incident-Mrs. Whitlock's hasty retreat, Mr. Whitlock trailing after her. What had that been about? Had she said or done something wrong?

She was still mulling it over when something soft and warm draped over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling the jacket closer. The faint, masculine scent of cologne clung to it, filling her senses.

There was a pause, long enough to feel deliberate. Then a voice-low and smooth with a hint of amusement-broke the silence. "You're welcome."

She froze, every muscle in her body tensing. That voice wasn't Axel's. Axel's voice was deeper, richer, with a warmth that felt like home. This voice... This voice was different. Also pleasing, but different from what she wanted to hear.

Before she could react, the figure stepped into view. Her breath caught in her throat.

It was him. The strange guy from earlier, the one whose name she still didn't know.

He looked at her with an expression that danced somewhere between playfulness and desperation, like he'd been waiting for this very moment for far too long.

"You..." The word slipped out before she could stop herself, her voice trembling just enough to betray her.

"Me," he replied, his smirk deepening as if he found her unease amusing.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to inject authority into her tone, but it sounded more defensive than anything.

"Ouch." He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "I thought we'd moved past this stage."

What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to ask but decided against it. This is definitely a conversation for Adele later, she thought grimly.

She glanced behind her, scanning the dimly lit garden for Axel. What was taking him so long? She wasn't equipped to navigate this exchange. She hadn't prepared for it, and the growing tension made her fear she'd slip up and say something Adelaide wouldn't have.

Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down beside her, his movements casual, almost possessive. "It feels good to sit with you again," he said, leaning back slightly as if this was his rightful place. "By the way, you looked breathtaking tonight. You always do."

A jolt of confusion shot through her. Her skin prickled under the weight of his words. What was happening? Why was she having this conversation at all? Everything about it felt wrong, out of place, and deeply unsettling.

Could she just get up and leave without making it seem like she was running away? Would Adelaide have stayed? And-what kind of relationship did she even have with this guy?

"Remember the night we sat here, staring at the stars?" His voice softened, laced with something raw and bittersweet. "The past two months you were bedridden, I sat under the stars every night. And smiled, remembering the conversations we had that night."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Panic bubbled in her chest, threatening to spill over. What was he talking about? Did this mean Adelaide had been... toying with two men? No, no, no. Please, no. That couldn't be it. She couldn't be part of that. The guilt of pretending to be someone she wasn't with Axel was already suffocating. Now this? She couldn't.

She glanced behind her again, silently begging for Axel to appear and rescue her.

He did the same too. After a pause, he turned back, his expression unreadable. "Axel left."

"What?" The word came out in a stutter, disbelief and unease washing over her in equal measure. Her gaze snapped to him, her mind racing.

"Family business," he said, his tone flat, like it was no big deal.

For a moment, Nina just stared at him, the pieces finally coming together in a way she didn't like. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the man beside her-Nathan Graves, the name finally clicking into place-looked at her too. He was Axel's cousin.

She swallowed hard, her mind screaming for an exit strategy as Nathan leaned back against the bench, utterly unbothered.

"Well," he said, that smirk curling back into place, "looks like it's just us again as always."