Chapter Two – A Resolve in the Moonlight

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Returning to her lavish room, Amelia's heart pounded in her chest. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to steady her breath. Her mind raced as she recalled the details of the novel that had been her escape from reality. She was lost in thought, not realizing the time passing. 

Clarissa, the character she had become, was infamous for her cruelty. She tormented the young heir, the duke's nephew, out of jealousy and spite. Her malicious schemes led to the boy's misery, pushing him to the brink of despair. Her reign of terror ended with her capture and execution by guillotine—a gruesome fate that sent shivers down Amelia's spine.

As she paced the room, Amelia's thoughts drifted to the crown princess, a key player in the story. The princess and the stepmother had conspired to ruin the boy's life, ultimately leading to his downfall. But in the end, the princess betrayed Clarissa, ensuring her demise while securing her own position of power.

"I won't let that happen," Amelia vowed, her reflection in the mirror hardening with determination. "I'll shower him with love. He will blossom into a fine young man! And fear not, I will not catch you in the intricate web of lies and betrayal."

Her resolve set, Amelia decided to retire to bed. She hoped sleep would provide some clarity, or at least a momentary escape from the overwhelming reality she now faced. She slipped beneath the soft covers, the silk sheets cool against her skin.

Just as she began to relax, the door creaked open. She sat up, eyes wide with surprise. Standing in the doorway, dressed in elegant sleepwear, was Duke Alistair. His presence was commanding even in the dim light, his handsome features softened by the glow of the moon filtering through the window.

"Why are you here?" Amelia asked, confusion lacing her voice.

Alistair's gaze was inscrutable as he stepped into the room. "It's our night to sleep together," he stated plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Amelia's mind raced. This was a deviation from the novel. In the story, Alistair never spent nights with Clarissa. This unexpected development made her wary.

He approached the bed, his expression unreadable. "Lie down," he commanded.

Swallowing her anxiety, Amelia complied, settling back onto the bed. Alistair joined her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. She lay stiffly beside him, acutely aware of his proximity. His scent—clean, with a hint of something dark and intoxicating—filled her senses, making her heart race.

Amelia tried to remain calm, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the thought of sharing a bed with such a strikingly handsome man. She kept her eyes closed, trying to will herself to sleep, but every fiber of her being was acutely aware of his presence next to her.

On the other side of the bed, Alistair lay still, observing her through half-closed eyes. He expected her to make a move, to crawl over him and attempt some seductive maneuver like other women in his life had. But instead, she remained motionless, a look of discomfort and embarrassment etched on her face.

This puzzled him. The woman lying beside him seemed different from the cold and calculating stepmother he had known. There was a vulnerability to her now, a softness that hadn't been there before. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this change.

As the night wore on, Amelia's thoughts drifted back to the young heir. She would protect him and ensure his happiness, no matter what. Her new life had given her a second chance, and she was determined not to squander it. and with that she slowly drifted away, into a deep sleep.

Beside her, Alistair's curiosity grew. Perhaps this unexpected change in his wife would bring about unforeseen consequences—consequences that could alter the course of Amelia's plan.