There’d been a heavy snowfall in the capital last night.

At the break of dawn, a maid pushed the door open, carrying a basin of water.

With a loud crash, the basin dropped to the floor.

In the dim room, a woman crouched by the brazier, tossing stacks of joss paper into the flames. The firelight danced over her pale face, her long hair swaying slightly—she looked like something out of a ghost story.

The maid trembled in fear. "S-Second Mistress, who… who are you burning paper for?"

Lydia Thorne brushed the last of the paper into the brazier, her expression cold and detached.

"A dead man."

She turned and sat before the vanity, gazing at her own reflection. The flickering flames caught in her calm eyes.

She had been reborn.

Back then, her family had declined, and she’d clung to a marriage contract to marry into the Sinclair family, as the bride of Edwin Sinclair, the Chancellor’s eldest grandson.

A month later, Edwin died in an accident.

People said her face looked mean, her fate cursed—that’s why her parents were dead, her husband too, and she remained childless.

To make up for it, she broke her back managing the household, ruined her health in the process, and still, all she got from them was contempt, as though she brought misfortune just by existing.

And on the journey to exile, they sold her off for fifty coins.

She bashed her head against a rock and died. Her last memory was someone sneering, “She brought this on herself. Our family’s downfall? Probably because of her curse. Good riddance.”

When she opened her eyes again, she was back to the first month of her marriage.

Some people get a second chance and want to live better.

Not her.

If no amount of effort could win their hearts, then fine—she’d play the villain instead.

She looked up at the window. The best-looking plum branch had snapped under the snow.

Yesterday had been the Winter Solstice. She remembered that storm.

No one knew yet—Edwin Sinclair had died yesterday.

He hadn’t cared for her one bit. He’d barely finished the wedding before running off to tour the southern hills with his friends.

On that snowy day, he decided to climb a mountain alone and fell to his death.

His body wasn’t found until months later, and by the time news reached the Sinclair family in the capital, half a year had passed.

From then on, she was labeled a jinxed widow—cold, unlucky.

They said she brought death.

But he was the one with a short life.

Lydia’s lips curled in a sneer.

“Die young once, twice, even ten times—it wouldn’t matter. You’re not making it past twenty.”

Still, Edwin was dead, and she had every intention to live.

Live well, take charge.

Daisy came in again, this time with fresh water, gently urging, “Second Mistress, let me help you wash. Madam still expects you to recite scripture today.”

Before, Lydia would’ve obeyed without a word. No matter how she tried to please that old hag, it was never enough. So why bother now?

She slowly combed her hair.

“Send word. I’m not going. The eldest young master’s coming back today—surely Madam has other things to worry about than scripture.”

Daisy, planted by Madam herself, was caught off guard by Lydia’s nonchalance. In the past, Lydia had always tried to please everyone in the household.

Daisy stepped forward, tugging on Lydia’s sleeve. “Madam set the rules. You can’t just refuse. Does she mean nothing to you now?”

Without a word, Lydia slapped her.

Daisy stared at her in shock, stunned silent.

Lydia’s background had always put her at a disadvantage here. She’d kept her head down, endured slights even from servants, never daring to speak up.What a ridiculous day! She’d only said a few words, and Lydia Thorne had slapped her right across the face. Even the Chancellor wasn’t that hard to serve.

Lydia looked unfazed as she slowly walked over to the washbasin and rinsed her hands.

"I'm the mistress. You're just a maid. It's not your place to yell at me."

Daisy stomped her foot, furious, clutching her cheek as she dashed off to tattle.

The moment the news reached Mrs. Bell, her face soured immediately.

"Unbelievable. She’s only been married a month, and she's already turning on her elders. Now she’s even hit my maid. Typical of a falling family with no proper upbringing!"

"Bring her here. Make her stand outside my room and behave herself. She’s not allowed to leave until she's stood there for three full hours!"

But Mrs. Hale held her back. "Madam, let’s not rush. That illegitimate son is returning today, and the Chancellor wants the whole household there to receive him. It’s not the right time for punishments."

That only added fuel to Mrs. Bell’s frustration. "Has there been a single peaceful day in this household? I thought that bastard wouldn’t make it past the borders, but now look at him—coming back all high and mighty. What kind of world is this?"

Mrs. Hale added, "Seems like the Chancellor is giving him special attention."

Mrs. Bell snorted, "He’s still just a bastard son. No matter how much favor he gets, he’ll never replace my Edwin. Still, we’ll need to stay sharp. That woman couldn’t get into the house back then, and now he’s likely full of resentment. Who knows what he’s plotting?"

She kept brooding until after the meal, when Lydia finally showed up.

"Well, how kind of you to grace me with your presence," Mrs. Bell said sharply when she saw her.

Lydia sat down calmly. "I didn’t come to offer morning greetings today, please forgive me, Madam. I had other matters to attend to."

As she spoke, she signaled for three maids to step forward.

"Since Marcus is coming back today, he’ll need his courtyard arranged properly. Most things are already in place, but he’s still short a few serving girls. These three are smart and well-trained. They’d make fine bed-warmers."

Mrs. Bell looked at her with surprise, but after thinking it over, she had to admit—it wasn’t a bad idea to place a few of their own by Marcus’s side.

"He’s just returned, and we don’t know what he’s thinking. If we station someone there, we’ll have eyes on everything. That’ll make things easier going forward."

Much as she disliked the girl, Mrs. Bell had to agree—Lydia’s move was clever.

Lydia smiled gently. "You’ll be sending them over as the elder, so he won’t be able to refuse. They’re quick and capable. Pick whichever one you like."

Mrs. Bell glanced over the trio and pointed to the one named Olivia. "This one’ll do."

Lydia kept a steady smile as she lowered her head to sip her tea.

All three of the maids resembled Lydia in figure. No matter whom Mrs. Bell chose, she’d serve the purpose Lydia intended.

Just then, a servant came to announce, "The elder young master is already at the corner of the street. He’ll be at the gate shortly. The Chancellor wants everyone at the front gate to receive him."

Lydia looked over at Mrs. Bell after hearing that.

"A bastard son returning home, and the whole household is summoned to greet him. Quite the spectacle, isn't it?"

Mrs. Bell didn’t bother to hide her disdain. She stayed seated a while longer, dragging her feet as she finally stood up and dusted off her robes before heading out.

Lydia followed a few steps behind.

The Chancellor’s family had earned their title through military service. Now in his fifties, the Chancellor had two sons. The elder had passed away years ago, leaving his widow Mrs. Bell managing the household. She had one legitimate son—Edwin—and one illegitimate, Marcus.

The younger son was still alive, married to Mrs. Reid, and they had one son, the third in line.

The family estate, a grand structure granted by the founding king himself, had its massive front gates thrown wide open. Everyone in the household was already gathering at the entrance hall.