The Erotic Painting's Heroine Strikes Back

At the bride selection ball, the queen herself chose me to be the crown prince's consort.

Then my cousin Yvonne Johnson suddenly dropped to her knees in the middle of the hall and presented an erotic painting to the court.

The woman in the painting had no face, but the rose birthmark at my waist had been rendered in chilling detail.

Yvonne's eyes were red, her voice soft and cool. "I love my cousin dearly, but I can't deceive the queen. Your Majesty, please look closely. My cousin's virtue is compromised. She isn't fit to be the crown prince's consort."

In a single night, my reputation was destroyed. I became the most shameless woman in the capital.

Yvonne smiled at me, sweet as ever. "If your mother hadn't drawn your birthmark herself, no one would've believed that the eldest daughter of a duke's household would do something so indecent."

My mother looked at me with an expression that held only resignation. "Your aunt once saved my life. I made a promise to Yvonne. I swore I'd give her the finest match in the world. But as long as you're here, you're in her way. Charlotte, my hands are tied."

The ground dropped out from under me. It was my mother who'd had that painting made. She'd destroyed my name, my future, all to help her favorite niece marry the crown prince.

Using my so-called disgrace as justification, she ordered me to hang myself. Meanwhile, my cousin married into the palace in glory, dressed in the gown and jewels that had been meant for me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the bride selection ball.

"My lady, the rose birthmark on your waist is so pretty."

My maid, Lulu Smith's admiring voice floated over as she ladled water for my bath, and I jolted awake.

The warmth around me pulled me fully back to the present.

I had regressed. I was alive. I was still here, in my own bedroom, and the crown prince's bride selection ball hadn't even started yet.

My fingers found the birthmark on my waist. The suffocating feeling of being strangled to death with white silk by my own mother in my past life still lingered, cold and hopeless.

I looked at the sunlight outside the window and smiled faintly. Good. I was still alive. This time, no one was going to hurt me again.

I finished getting dressed and stepped outside. My cousin Yvonne Johnson and my mother were already seated in the carriage, waiting.

She wore a stunning gown, and my grandmother's jewelry set gleamed at her throat. That set had sat locked in my mother's chest for years. My grandmother had asked for it to be saved for me, more than once. My mother had never even let me look at it, always worried I'd damage something. And yet there it was, on Yvonne's neck.

Yvonne caught my eye and smiled smugly. "Aunt Madeline said the set