Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Vivian’s POV

I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, gasping as my vision blurred and refocused.

The world spun violently as my palms pressed against the polished wood, and my ears rang as my stomach lurched. When I finally dragged in a breath, it tasted like wax, smoke, and wax and something faintly metallic.

Wincing, I pushed myself upright, finding my reflection in the very same mirror. But it was sharper than before, and my eyes widened as I saw a crowd of elegantly dressed figures standing behind me.

I spun around, my heart in my throat.

It was the same ballroom.

The same mansion.

And the only difference was that it wasn’t empty anymore.

The room was dimly lit with candlelight flickering from the crystal chandeliers, casting a golden sheen across silk gowns and black tailcoats. Soft classical music drifted in the air, mixing with light conversation and laughter.

Everyone froze as they turned to me, gasps rippling through the crowd.

The women in corseted gowns clutched their fans to their open mouths, eyes wide in a mix of curiosity and fear. The men frowned, their brows furrowed beneath their carefully groomed hair. Some stood protectively in front of their dates, staring at me like I was a creature from another planet.

And in that moment….I might as well be.

“She appeared out of nowhere!” A woman cried, pointing my way with trembling fingers. “Witch!”

I blinked, snapping back to reality.

“Guards!!” A man hollered.

Cursing under my breath, I sprang to my feet, colliding with a waiter as I did so. The wine tray in his hands clattered to the ground, glass shattering as I zipped past the crowd, running to God knows where.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, looking over my shoulder to see the guards that were hot on my tail.

What the hell is happening?

Why are they calling me a witch?

Am I dreaming?

Or did I happen to fall and hit my head while exploring the mansion?

“Stop!”

“Stop the witch!”

My mind scrambled with a million and one possibilities, but none of them made sense. Was there a show in the mansion I wasn’t aware of? And even if that was true, why would I be chased?

They said I appeared out of nowhere, and as I ran through the halls and corridors of the mansion, I saw how rooms that had once been sealed were open, how bulbs were replaced by candles, and how everything looked new, like decades hadn’t passed.

My steps screeched to a stop as the harsh realization slammed into me, the color draining from my face.

I looked down at myself, at my coat, my trousers, my sharp boots, and my handbag strapped around my torso.

Then I thought back to the people at the ballroom, recalling their attire. I knew Victorian fabric. I’d spent years studying it, analyzing each thread and stitch, tracing patterns and textures with my eyes.

A chill ran down my spine. Those gowns weren’t costumes. And these people weren’t playing dress up.

Did I……travel back in time?

Just then, strong hands seized me from behind, pulling me from my train of thought.

“Hey!” I struggled against their grip, my heart pounding in my chest. “Let me go!”

“Silence!” The guard’s grip tightened painfully, hauling me forward. “You think you can break into our estate and get away with it?!”

“I’m not….” The words died on my tongue. What could I possibly say? I didn’t understand what was going on in the first place.

“Search her,” another guard barked. “She’s likely a thief.”

One of them immediately reached for my bag. If I truly went back in time, the last thing I should let them take is my bag. It held my phone and history books. And since they already accused me of being a witch, seeing that won’t help my case in any way.

So I swung my leg and kicked him hard in the groin.

The guard’s knees buckled as he doubled over in pain and the rest didn’t seem to like that.

“Why you—” Another guard raised his hand to hit me, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the impact.

Then—

“What is going on here?” A commanding voice cut through the chaos. My eyes flew open, and the guards froze, straightening in stiff attention.

A man emerged from the shadows of the corridor, his presence refined yet imposing. He stood tall, dressed in a tailored coat that screamed of wealth and power. The candlelight caught his brown hair, making it appear golden. His features seemed to be carved from stone, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a sharp jaw that was set tight. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, assessing the situation with cold precision.

My breath caught.

I knew that face.

It was the same face that had been framed in gold and painted with oil, hanging on the walls of the mansion back in the present. The portraits had aged with time, and each one bore the same name.

The Duke of Northbrook. Adrian Northbrook.

“Your Grace,” the guards bowed to show their respects, and one of them stepped forward to explain. “This woman appeared out of nowhere in the ballroom. The guests believe she’s a witch.”

The duke’s gaze snapped to me, and the moment our eyes met, something strange twisted in my chest, like an invisible pull that tugged at me.

Goosebumps prickled my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood erect, my heart skipping a beat.

My brows furrowed in confusion, overwhelmed by the myriad of sensations searing through me.

But….why did the Duke look like he’d seen a ghost?

The color drained from his face, shock seeping through his neutral expression. His eyes widened momentarily, an unfamiliar emotion flashing through his gray pupils. Something close to recognition.

“Impossible…” he whispered in disbelief, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe.

I swallowed hard, averting my gaze from him.

“Unhand her.” He ordered, schooling his expression back into hard lines.

They hesitated, sharing uneasy glances, “But—“

“Now.” His gaze sharpened, leaving no room for argument.

The guards obeyed, bowing once more before retreating down the hall, leaving me with him.

A beat of silence passed, and the duke didn’t look away from me. If anything, his gaze became even more intense.

One could cut the tension between us with a knife, but I was seriously on the verge of losing my mind. So I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had left.

Then I looked up at him, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag. “I’m sorry but….” I started, forcing my voice steady. “…..what year is this?”

The Duke inclined his head to the side, as though he was considering whether I was worth answering. His gray eyes seemed to pierce right through me, unraveling all my secrets and insecurities.

But I squared my shoulders, holding his gaze till he spoke.

“Eighteen eighty-five.”

Fuck.

I had really gone back in time.

The truth was as clear as day, but I still needed confirmation. And now that I got it, what the hell was I supposed to do?

“You look exactly as she did,” The Duke said as he took a step forward, his voice soft—a little too soft for a man of his magnitude. “Like the woman from my dreams.”

I blinked once. Then twice, making sure I hadn’t misheard.

Did he just say I was the woman of his dreams?

“What?” I took a cautious step back, cold sweat trickling down my temple.

“A fortune teller once told me,” he continued, still moving closer, “that I would meet my true mate, one who did not belong to this time. She said she would appear as if summoned by fate itself.”

He stopped only an arm’s length away, his gaze burning into mine.

The candles flickered violently, shadows dancing along the walls as my chest tightened with dread and disbelief.

My back pressed against the wall, leaving no room for escape.

“And now,” his gaze lingered on my lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re standing in my halls.”