Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

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Chapter 15 – Shadows of the Past

The night was thick with silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing against the cold stone walls of Lady Mirva's estate. Selene Ravencourt sat by the dim candlelight of her small servant's quarters, fingers tracing the rough grain of the wooden table. Though her body ached from exhaustion, her mind was restless.

Tonight had been another step forward.

But it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough until she had taken back what was rightfully hers.

The wealth, the power, the very foundation of Lady Mirva's standing in society—it all belonged to Selene. And Lady Mirva knew it. Even if she buried the truth beneath layers of deception, beneath years of careful manipulation, the blood that ran through Selene's veins was proof of what had once been hers.

And what would be hers again.

She clenched her jaw, remembering the past—the time before Mirva had sunk her claws into everything.

She remembered her father.

Lord Aldric Ravencourt had been a formidable man, one whose name carried weight in noble circles. He had built their fortune from the ground up, carving a path of influence and wealth through sheer will and intelligence. But more than that, he had been a father. A protector. His presence had been like an unshakable fortress, shielding her from the cruelty of the world.

And then, he was gone.

His death had left a void, one that Mirva had filled with false kindness and venomous whispers. At first, she had played the part of the grieving widow, the caring stepmother. But Selene had seen through her. Even as a child, she had known.

Mirva had not mourned her father. She had celebrated his absence.

With him gone, she had claimed everything.

Selene's inheritance. Selene's home. Selene's life.

And no one had stopped her.

No one had questioned how quickly Mirva had taken control of the estate, how effortlessly she had secured her position. Perhaps they had assumed it was her right as Lord Ravencourt's wife, but Selene knew better.

It had never been about grief.

It had always been about power.

Selene exhaled slowly, staring at the candle's wavering flame.

She had spent years waiting, pretending, enduring.

But she would not endure much longer.

Because what Mirva had taken—she would take back.

Every coin.

Every connection.

Every ounce of respect.

And she would do it without Mirva realizing until it was far too late.

A bitter smirk curled at her lips.

Let Mirva play her desperate games, clawing at the remnants of her power. Let her scramble to maintain the illusion of control.

Soon, it would all crumble.

And Selene would be standing atop the ruins.

But beneath that satisfaction, another feeling lingered.

One she could not ignore.

She was in Selene Ravencourt's body.

Not just in name, but in truth.

This was her body, her life—the very existence that had been stolen from her.

And yet, she was not just Selene.

She was Elara.

She had once been a princess. A ruler. A woman of power.

And now, she was forced to live as a mere servant, belittled and overlooked.

The weight of it pressed against her patience, clawing at her every time she had to lower her gaze, every time she had to endure Mirva's cruelty. It was an insult to who she truly was.

She should not have to bow her head. She should not have to cower before Mirva's wrath.

But for now, she would.

For now.

Because this was a game of patience.

And she would win.

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Lady Mirva – The Desperation of a Woman Who Had Everything to Lose

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the dimly lit halls as Lady Mirva stormed toward the servants' quarters, her silk robe billowing behind her.

Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.

Tonight had been a disaster.

The banquet was meant to restore confidence in her wealth, to secure new allies and new investments, and Instead, it had only cemented the whispers of her downfall.

And she knew why.

Someone had sabotaged her.

The thought of it made her blood boil. There was no other explanation for the failures that had plagued the evening—the spoiled wine, the hushed whispers among the nobles, the way Lord Kael Draven had looked at her with nothing but cold indifference.

She had spent years cultivating her position, shaping herself into a woman of power. She had sacrificed everything to rise above the life she had once been forced to endure.

She would not lose it all.

Not now.

Not ever.

Her fury needed a target.

And she already knew who would suffer for it.

Without hesitation, she slammed open the door to Selene's quarters.

The girl barely flinched.

She was seated at the wooden table, a single candle casting flickering shadows across her face. Her expression was unreadable, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

As if she had been expecting this.

As if she had been waiting.

Mirva hated that.

"You," she hissed, stepping forward. "You ungrateful little wretch."

Selene remained silent, her gaze meeting Mirva's without fear.

Mirva hated that even more.

"I should have thrown you out the moment your father died," Mirva spat. "Instead, I let you stay. I let you live under my roof. And this is how you repay me? By sneaking around like a rat? By ruining everything I've built?"

Selene did not respond.

A slap cracked through the air.

The force of it sent Selene's head snapping to the side, but she did not cry out. She did not move. She simply sat there, as if Mirva's fury was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Mirva's chest heaved.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" she seethed. "You think I don't see what you're doing?"

Selene slowly turned her head back, her eyes dark and cold.

And for the first time, Mirva hesitated.

Because there was something in that gaze that was not supposed to be there.

Not defiance.

Not fear.

Something colder.

Something calculating.

Selene tilted her head ever so slightly. "I don't know what you mean, my lady."

Mirva's jaw clenched.

Lies.

This girl was lying to her.

But she could not prove it.

Not yet.

She exhaled sharply, yanking the candle from the table and snuffing it out in one swift motion.

The room plunged into darkness.

"Clean the floors before sunrise," Mirva snapped. "I want them spotless."

With that, she turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.

She did not see the faint, ghostly smirk that lingered on Selene's lips.

But she would.

Soon.

Very soon.

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