Chapter 151: Too Perfect to Be True

Chapter 151: Too Perfect to Be True [Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Garden, After the Storm] I finally spotted Papa. There he was—slouching at the front row of the seating pavilion like he owned the world (which, frankly, he mostly did), sipping his wine as lazily as a lion sunbathing after a hunt. Seated beside him was none other than Grand Duke Regis—looking far too comfortable for someone who routinely drove Papa to the brink of a royal aneurysm. "They look happy," I heard Grand Duke Regis say as I walked closer. "Surprisingly." He raised a brow at Papa, then added with that maddening smirk of his, "I thought he’d end up single and broody like you. But... guess I was wrong." Papa’s death glare was so sharp it could’ve slashed mountains. He didn’t even bother with words—just stared at Regis like he was imagining 47 different ways to bury him beneath the palace. But Grand Duke Regis? Smiled. Unbothered. Amused. And then he saw me. His eyes crinkled with something too close to affection, and I took the opportunity to plop myself down beside Papa, resting my head gently against his shoulder. Papa turned, his gaze softening instantly. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and protective. "Did someone bother you...? Tell me who. I’ll kill them." Gods, I smiled. There was nothing sweeter than his threats of murder—especially when they were for me. His words were always sharp, tyrannical even... But when he spoke like this, I felt nothing but safe. Like nothing in the world could ever hurt me so long as he was beside me. Grand Duke Regis watched the scene unfold with an exaggerated sigh. "Ugh... I wish I had a daughter too," he muttered under his breath, wistful. "Look at you two... It’s disgusting." Papa didn’t miss a beat. He smirked, slow and smug, and looked at Regis like he was a beggar outside the temple gates. "Not everyone receives blessings, Regis. Some of us are simply... chosen." Regis twitched. His jaw locked for a second before he forced a diplomatic breath and said smoothly, "So what? Who knows—" Then he turned to me. That smirk returned. And he said it. "—I might get a daughter-in-law." I blinked. Papa stiffened beside me. There was a moment of silence so sharp it could’ve sliced through the imperial banner. And then— "I should ban all upcoming marriages," Papa declared, glaring at Regis like he’d just insulted our entire bloodline. "Immediately. No courtships. No proposals. Nothing." I sighed softly. There he goes again... I leaned into his side anyway. As absurd and dramatic as he could be, there was a strange comfort in the chaos. Like a storm that only ever raged to keep me safe. But even so... my mind drifted. To her. Elaenia. Something about her still buzzed in the back of my mind like a splinter I couldn’t shake loose. Why? Why did Count Talvan adopt her? And more importantly... why wasn’t it ever announced? I turned my head slightly and murmured, "Papa..." He glanced at me. "Hmm?" "Did you know Count Talvan had an adopted daughter?" His glass stopped mid-air. Grand Duke Regis, too, turned to stare. "...Adopted daughter?" Papa asked, brows lifting. I nodded slowly. "Yes. I met her just now. Sirella introduced her to me. Said her name is Elaenia Talvan." Grand Duke Regis frowned. "Talvan? Adopted someone? Since when?" They looked at each other—two of the most informed, dangerous, and powerful men in the empire—and both wore the same expression. Genuine surprise. "Did you receive any information?" Papa asked. "No," Regis said after a pause, shaking his head. "No, we never received any such information. Not through the court. Not through the informers. Not even a whisper." Papa’s eyes narrowed. "We’ve always known Talvan had one daughter. Just one." "Exactly," Regis agreed. "And even if he didn’t want to announce it to the court, there should have at least been... something. A letter. A ceremony. Even a rumor. But there’s nothing." Papa’s eyes slid across the pavilion—sharp and calculating—until they landed on Count Talvan. The man was deep in discussion with Theon and Teacher Evelyn, completely unaware of the firestorm forming behind his back. "Find out what happened," Papa said darkly. Regis nodded once. "I will." I followed Papa’s gaze to Count Talvan, but my thoughts weren’t on him anymore. They were on her. Elaenia. The girl no one saw coming. There are answers hidden behind her smile—answers that not even the Imperial informers can uncover. Secrets no record will reveal. Because this wasn’t something written. This wasn’t political. This was personal. And if I want to find the truth about Elaenia Velcorin... I have to leave the palace. I have to step outside the walls built to protect me—and dig into a past that no one else dares to touch. Because fate has already started shifting. And I need to know why. ...And that’s how Theon’s wedding ended. Dramatic. Chaotic. And crowned with a surprise appearance that felt... far too timed to be chance. I glanced across the garden. Elaenia was still standing there—her gaze fixed on Osric, cheeks tinged with pink, lips curled into the faintest smile. It wasn’t just admiration. It was... familiarity. Recognition. Like she’d seen him before. Like she’d waited for this moment. And suddenly, it didn’t feel like fate had played a new card. It felt like someone had stacked the entire deck. Deliberately. Intentionally. No... this wasn’t a coincidence. This felt like a move. A deliberate one. And I hate being part of a game no one asked me to play. A game where they’ve already written my ending without my permission. Because I’m not the original Lavinia, and I’m not going to end up like her anymore. I may be lazy. I may have sworn to sit back and let the plot unfold on its own. But not anymore. Not after receiving all this love—from Papa, from Nanny, Osric, and others, even from that annoying Caelum and our divine Marshi. The story has changed, and this time I will make sure to change my drastic end too because I’ve gotten greedy. And I’m not letting anyone walk away from me. Nor am I planning to go quietly into someone else’s story. *** [Three Months Later—Lavinia’s POV] I turned fifteen. This year’s birthday passed just as grandly as one would expect for the Imperial Princess. Trumpets. Cheers. Velvet cakes stacked to the sky. Nobles lining up to bow like dominoes. Papa, naturally, outdid himself again. He gifted me several hills. Yes. Actual hills. Said they were brimming with diamonds under the soil. I didn’t even blink—just smiled sweetly, because what else does one do when their father casually makes them the richest unemployed person in the empire? Grandfather Thaelein, not to be outdone, sent magical gifts so potent the palace mages nearly passed out trying to classify them. It was all wonderful. Loud. Glittering. But none of it really stayed in my mind. What stayed with me was the report from the royal informers. The one that made something cold settle beneath all the birthday sweetness. According to them... Count Talvan found Elaenia being bullied by village children. She was wounded. Frightened. Helpless. He stepped in. He saved her. He healed her. And then—he adopted her. Just like that. A powerful, calculating man—one of the empire’s most ruthless minds—took in a trembling orphan girl. They say she was traumatized. That she begged him not to reveal her identity until she felt strong enough to face society again. She needed time. Space. Healing. That’s how she ended up beside Sirella. That’s the story they all accepted. It spread like silk in the wind—neatly woven, soft to the touch. The whole empire believed it. And yet... Something about it makes my skin crawl. Too perfect. Too convenient. Too... pre-written. Like it came from a novelist’s pen. Not real life. "Princess?" I blinked. In the mirror’s reflection, Marella stood behind me, combing my hair with practiced grace. Her hands paused gently at the strands, waiting. "...What are you thinking so deeply about?" she asked softly. I stared at her for a long moment. Then I turned slightly on my seat. "Marella." "Yes, Your Highness?" I tilted my head, eyes narrowing slightly. My voice was calm. Low. Dangerous in its softness. "What if one day, someone enters your life—someone with a pretty smile and a tragic backstory—and slowly tries to snatch away everything you’ve earned? The love. The status. The peace. Makes you look vicious. Greedy. Selfish. Even when all you did was exist." Her hand froze completely now. She met my eyes in the mirror. "Did... something happen, Princess?" I didn’t blink. "Just answer the question, Marella." She hesitated—then said quietly, "I would feel angry, Your Highness. And perhaps... I would feel like punishing her. For daring to touch what was mine." I smiled. It didn’t reach my eyes. "Exactly." It’s not about jealousy. It’s not even about suspicion. It’s about knowing when something is off. When something is manipulated. And right now, everything about Elaenia Valcorin’s story feels like it was written for applause. Too clean. Too heroic. Too conveniently timed. I leaned back slightly in my chair, letting Marella resume brushing. My voice, quiet but sharp, cut the silence like glass. "If I want to keep what’s mine, I need to uncover the truth—before it finds me first."