Chapter 3
I tried to snoop around for information about Deborah.
"Your Highness, who is Deborah?" I asked.
The moment I spoke, the gentle look on Maurice's face vanished, replaced by a chilling, predatory glare.
"Don't you dare mention her!" he snapped.
He swiped the cups off the table, the sharp sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the room.
"You have no right to speak her name!" he roared.
His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me, like he was about to devour me alive.
At that moment, I truly felt his violent nature had never disappeared. He'd just been barely keeping it in check all this time.
Terrified, I kept my mouth shut and didn't dare make a sound.
Later, I managed to put together bits and pieces about Deborah from an old maid in the estate.
The old maid said, "Lady Deborah was His Highness's childhood sweetheart, the apple of his eye.
"Ten years ago, during the palace coup, Lady Deborah sacrificed herself to save His Highness. She perished in the flames..."
The old servant sighed deeply. "His Highness hurt his leg in that fire, too. After that, he was never the same."
So that was the truth.
Deborah was his unreachable love, the woman who gave her life for him.
And me? I was only allowed to linger in his world because my eyes looked just like hers.
I ran my fingers over my face, feeling a mess of emotions tangled up inside.
I decided to make the most of being her replacement.
I stopped digging into who Deborah really was and devoted myself to acting like her.
I ate whatever she liked.
I wore whatever colors she loved.
I practiced the instrument day and night, determined to match her skills.
Maurice's affection for me became more and more intense, so much so that it bordered on something unhealthy.
The way he looked at me grew more and more obsessed, like I was the only thing in his world.
I knew he couldn't tell anymore whether he loved Deborah, who was gone, or me, the living shadow left behind.
And as for me, it was in this warped love that I slowly carved out my own place in the Langston estate.
I even started to savor the sweet satisfaction of humiliating the Crawford family.
Every time I flaunted the expensive jewelry and lavish clothes Maurice gifted me, and saw the Crawfords forced to swallow their pride, unable to say a word, I felt a rush of pure delight.
They tossed me aside like I was nothing.
And, I was living a good life, better than any of them ever could.
Just when I thought things would stay this way, Briana came back.
And she didn't come alone.
Right beside her was George Langston, the third prince, and Maurice's archrival.
The news arrived while I was playing the piano in the hall.
Maurice sat quietly in his wheelchair, right by the swing he'd built for me with his own hands, listening to the music.
The sun was warm, and for a moment, life felt perfectly serene.
But then a servant burst in, flustered and breathless, breaking the peaceful spell.
"Your Highness, Lady Catherine... Lady Briana is back!" the servant blurted out.
The sound of the piano paused instantly.
I saw Maurice jerk in his seat, the color draining from his face.
He was visibly rattled.
It was the first time I'd ever seen him so unsettled since I met him.
My heart sank.
With Briana back, I had no idea what I, the substitute, should do.
Briana came back in style, making sure everyone noticed her arrival.
She said ditching the wedding was something she had to do. She was chasing after true love.
And that so-called true love? It was George.
They "ran into" Maurice at a royal party.
Briana was dressed all in white, looking like a fragile willow swaying in the breeze, tears streaming down her face like rain on blossoms.
She began reminding Maurice of the time she saved his life.
"Your Highness, if I hadn't risked everything to drag you out of that fire, we would have been parted by death itself," she said.
As she spoke, she gently lifted her sleeve, revealing a pale pink scar on her wrist.
"This scar is from back then, Your Highness. Do you still remember?" Her voice was soft, but every word was meant for Maurice.
I stood a short distance away, taking in every detail of the scene.
I remembered that scar perfectly.
When we were little, Briana scraped her wrist trying to snatch my kite and ended up falling.
But she was parading it around as her so-called proof of saving Maurice.
Maurice locked his eyes on that scar, visibly shaken and trembling all over.
But when his gaze shifted to me, his expression was a tangled mess of emotions.
There was shock, suspicion, and a barely concealed panic.
After the royal party, Briana cornered me in private.
She was still acting all high and mighty, giving me that pitiful look, like I was beneath her.
"Catherine, the only reason anyone cares about you is that your face kinda resembles hers. That's the only thing you have going for you," Briana sneered.