bChapter /bb167 /b

    ra’s POV

    I sat back against the wall, the faint glow of the hallway lights casting long shadows around me. My hands were still shaking as I slid Mi’s phone into my pocket. It wasn’t just the weight of the phone, though; it was everything that came with it–the power, the revenge, the realization that I was finally about to turn the tables.

    Gill had already scurried off, her footsteps echoing faintly as she disappeared into the night. I was alone now, and it felt so…good.

    1 let out a soft chuckle, remembering the humiliation on Gill’s face just moments ago when Dorian had rejected her. She was desperate, throwing herself at him like she could make him feel something–anything. I could see it all y out in my head: the pathetic way she clung to his arm, her voice trembling with that awful mixture of desperation and need. But Dorian? He’d given her nothing. Cold, distant, as always. And I couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction in that.

    “ra!”

    The sound of my name caught my attention, and I turned quickly, my heart racing. Dorian was there, looking so…goddamn handsome as usual, the anger in his eyes still lingering from the conversation with Gill. He looked at me like I was a breath of fresh air in this suffocating mess of emotions.

    “You found them?” His voice was low, almost cautious.

    I nodded, lifting the phone from my pocket and handing it back to Gill’s now–embarrassed form. “Thanks for this. Now go on. Mi’s bound to notice if you stick around.”

    Gill didn’t need any more encouragement. She shoved the phone into her pocket and practically ran off. Good riddance.

    Dorian stayed, his eyes locked on mine with a mix of curiosity and something deeper–something I couldn’t quite ce. He took a step closer, his breath brushing against my cheek as he whispered, “There’s nothing going on between me and her.”

    I smiled, shaking my head. “You really don’t need to exin that.”

    “But I want to,” he insisted, reaching out as if to touch my arm, but then he stopped himself. “In case you get the wrong idea.”

    “Wrong idea?” I raised an eyebrow. “You mean the idea that you’re some kind of womanizer? A yboy?” I teased, leaning in closer as I

    spoke.

    His face twisted in mock offense. “Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest like I’d just stabbed him with a knife. “That hurt more than the time your crazy iex /ithrew me into a concrete wall.”

    Tcouldn’t help butugh. “Stop messing around! You really should get going. It’s past curfew now, iyou /idon’t want to be seen here.”

    Dorian smirked and, without warning, leaned down, pressing a quick, heated kiss to my cheek. The brief touch left me breathless, my heart hammering in my chest.

    “See you tomorrow,” he whispered before walking off, disappearing into the shadows.

    I stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his kiss still lingering on my skin, before I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from my thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for distractions. I had a n to execute, and it wasn’t going to carry itself out.

    The next day, I printed out the photos. There was no turning back now. Ihad to make this count. But I didn’t want to just hand them over like some kind of cheap prank. No, I needed to make an impact–something big, something that would leave a mark.

    The wedding was fast approaching, and I had a n. A damn good one.

    b1/3 /b

    I slipped the photos into the apron I was wearing as I walked into the kitchen. The air was thick with the smells bof /broasting meat, herbs, and bfreshly /bbaked bread, but my focus was elsewhere. It was chaotic in here, everyone rushing around, preparing for the dinner that would follow bthe /bceremony. The excitement was palpable, but I barely noticed.

    bI /bspent a few hours working on the tasks assigned to me, trying to avoid the anxiety gnawing at the back iof /imy mind. I was on edge. I needed. everything to go perfectly.

    When I finally reported back to the headmaid, she was engrossed in frosting the wedding cake, her face scrunched in concentration. I knew that cake meant everything to her. It was her masterpiece, and she wasn’t about to let anyone else touch it.

    “Can I help with that?” I asked, a casual tone hiding the urgency beneath.

    The headmaid wiped the sweat from her brow, ncing at me with a skeptical look. “You?” she asked, as though the idea wasughable. “Do you even know how to bake?”

    I gave a small, confident smile. “Yes. I actually know a thing or two about baking.”

    It wasn’t a lie. Back at Direstone Pack, when I was still Thorne’s Luna, I had spent hours perfecting my cooking and baking skills, hoping that

    if I could be more like the women who surrounded him, maybe, just maybe, he’d see me differently.

    The headmaid sighed, clearly unconvinced. “Well, the wedding cake is a big deal. If you mess this up, it’s me who gets med.”

    “I won’t mess it up,” I reassured her. “I promise.”

    She hesitated for a long moment before grumbling, “Fine. You can help with the whipped cream. But that’s it.”

    I got to work, pulling the chilled cream from the freezer and pouring it into arge bowl. I grabbed the hand mixer, beginning at a low speed to avoid sttering the cream all over the kitchen. Gradually, I increased the speed, focusing on the task at hand. I could feel the tension in my shoulders from the past days of scheming, but I blocked it out. This had to be wless.

    The headmaid came over, skeptically dipping her finger into the whipped cream. She tasted it, her eyes widening with surprise. “Not bad,” she muttered. “You do know how to bake. Fine, you can help with the batter.”

    I smiled, my ning together perfectly. The next few hours were spent working together, the cake slowlying to life in front of us. But even as we baked, my thoughts kept drifting back to my n. The cake, three feet tall with tenyers, would be the perfect hiding ce.

    I had been working nonstop for hours, my arms sore and my back aching. The other maids had left, and the kitchen had grown quiet. The headmaid was still at it, but she was clearly struggling.

    “My back is killing mei,/ii” /ishe groaned. “Why don’t you take a break?”

    I shook my head. “I’m good. You go on ahead. I’ve got this.”

    She looked hesitant, but then her eyes flicked to the cupboard where a bottle of wine sat. I knew what she was thinking. Her addiction was

    obvious.

    “Alright,” she said, practically running to grab the bottle. “I’ll be backter. You keep at it.”

    The moment she left, I smiled to myself. I was alone with the cake–and it was time for the real fun to begin.

    The wedding cake was already breathtaking. But what Mi didn’t know was that it wasn’t just a cake. It was a trap. I carefully hollowed out the center, carefully cing the photos inside. As soon as Mi cut into that cake, those pictures would spill out, exposing her for who she truly was.

    ‘I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when it all came crashing down. It was going to be beautiful.