Chapter 3

Lydia's POV

The living room fell into an eerie silence.

Rose's eyes went wide, her face a mask of disbelief.

I looked down at Moretti. My lipstick still marked his mouth. A ripple passed through those unfathomable eyes.

"You're insane!" Rose shrieked. "How dare you kiss him? I've seen plenty of shameless women like you. You think throwing yourself at him will get his attention?"

"Shameless? I kissed my own fiancé. How is that shameless?" I lifted his chin with my fingertip, forcing him to tilt his head and look up at me. I smiled seductively. "Am I not allowed to kiss you?"

Moretti's eyes narrowed. He stared at me for a full three seconds. Then he raised his hand and wrapped it around my waist.

His arm was strong and solid. Through his shirt, I could feel the heat radiating from his body and the steady thump of his heartbeat.

He lowered his head. His voice was low and magnetic. "Of course you are."

That caught me off guard.

In my past life, from Freya's descriptions, Moretti was cold and indifferent to her. He never even looked at her properly.

I thought he'd be difficult to win over. I didn't expect him to be so cooperative.

Rose trembled with rage. She turned and grabbed Moretti's arm. "Moretti, how can you let such a shameless woman kiss you? She's making the Vance family a laughingstock!"

"Oh?" I tilted my head and looked at her, my tone dripping with mockery. "Do you want to kiss him too? Too bad. You don't get that chance."

Rose's eyes reddened with fury. She pointed at me. "I did my research! The woman the Spencer family sent over was named Freya, not some Lydia! She's obviously a fake!"

"Oh? You did your homework."

I laughed coldly, pulled the red marriage contract from my pocket, and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Take a good look." I tapped my finger on the name. "The Spencer family has more than one daughter. My parents changed their minds at the last minute. Do I need your permission?"

Rose lunged forward and glanced at the contract. Her face turned deathly pale. She bit her lip and looked at Moretti. "Moretti, this marriage was arranged by the elders. Switching brides without notice—do the Vance family elders even know? Are you really going to let her get away with this?"

I didn't bother arguing with her. I turned to Moretti and hooked my finger around a button on his shirt, twirling it lazily. "What, you don't want to marry me?"

Moretti looked down at me. His voice was low and deep. "No. You're the one I'm marrying."

"Did you hear that?" I leaned into Moretti's embrace and looked at Rose with amusement.

Rose bit her lip. Tears began to fall. Her voice was full of grievance. "If Moretti likes you, then I won't say anything. But your wedding is on my birthday. Moretti, you promised me. Every year on my birthday, you'd spend it with me. This year won't be any different, will it?"

Moretti was silent for two seconds. His tone was flat. "Don't worry. I'll be there."

I watched her smug expression coldly.

In my past life, on Freya and Moretti's wedding day, Moretti went to celebrate Rose's birthday. He never showed up.

Freya stood alone in her wedding dress in the church and completed the ceremony by herself. She became the laughingstock of high society.

After Freya married him, Rose became even worse. With Moretti's indulgence, she tormented Freya at every turn. She drove my gentle sister to her death.

But this time, Rose had picked the wrong opponent. I wasn't soft and easy to bully like Freya.

I slowly straightened up from Moretti's embrace. Then I raised my fist and punched him in the chest.

Moretti didn't move. His brow furrowed slightly. I knew I'd hit him hard.

Rose gasped. "What are you doing?! You hit him? Are you insane?!"

I ignored Rose's outburst. Instead, I reached up and cupped Moretti's face. My voice softened. "Does it hurt?"

Moretti said nothing.

I pressed my other hand to my own chest, deliberately looking hurt. "When you said you'd spend my wedding night with her, it hurt here too. On our wedding night, my husband is going to be with another woman. Tell me—isn't that a little much?"

Rose panicked. She rushed forward. "You're twisting his words! Besides, Moretti and I have history. What right do you have to interfere, outsider?"

I turned my head and looked at Rose with a half-smile. "Outsider? I'm his fiancée. You're the outsider."

"You—" Rose's lips went white with anger. She turned to Moretti. "Moretti, are you just going to let her talk to me like this?"

"Enough." Moretti's voice carried undeniable authority. "We'll talk about this later."

He turned to the butler standing in the corner. "Brady, arrange accommodations for Ms. Spencer."

Brady bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."

I picked up my luggage and followed Brady out.

As I passed Rose, I paused. I tilted my head and looked at her, lowering my voice. "The fifteenth of next month. My wedding. Don't forget to come."

Rose's face flushed red, then white. Her lips trembled, but no words came out.

---

I followed Brady down a long hallway to a room at the end of the second floor.

The room was large and luxuriously decorated. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the entire garden below.

"Ms. Spencer, please rest. If you need anything, just press the button by the bed." Brady was polite and professional.

"Thank you."

Brady left, closing the door softly behind him.

I collapsed onto the couch. Finally, I could breathe.

So far, everything was going according to plan. I'd successfully entered the Vance Mansion and put Rose in her place.

But this was just the beginning.

In my past life, Freya suffered endless humiliation in this house. She was too gentle, too kind. She didn't know how to fight back. In the end, she fell into depression and died.

I wouldn't.

I would make Moretti fall in love with me. I would make him stay by my side willingly. And then I would make him taste what it felt like to be betrayed.

Just as I was lost in thought, there was a knock at the door.

Brady's voice came from outside. "Ms. Spencer, Mr. Vance requests your presence in the garden for a candlelit dinner."

A candlelit dinner at ten o'clock at night?

I raised an eyebrow. This Moretti sure knew how to set a scene.

"Alright. Let me change and I'll be right there."

I opened my luggage and pulled out a black dress.

I changed into the dress and checked myself in the mirror. The black complemented my skin tone. The hem fell just above my knees—not too revealing, but enough to show off my figure.

I arrived at the garden as agreed, but Moretti was nowhere to be seen. Alarm bells went off in my head.

Just as I turned to leave, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind.

"Stay still! Or I'll cut up that pretty face of yours!"