The Replacement Heiress

"Miss Adelaide?"

The words barely registered.

"Miss Adelaide." The woman's voice cut through the haze, more insistent now.

Nina blinked, straightening as her gaze met Rose's in the mirror.

"It's time," Rose said. "Time to make an entrance."

The words struck like a jolt, sending a sharp pulse through her veins. This was it-her first official appearance before the six ruling families who controlled the world's wealth. To them, tonight was nothing more than Adelaide Whitlock's twenty-thir d birthday. But to Nina, it was a test. The first time she would stand before a crowd of strangers who had no idea she wasn't the woman they believed her to be.

The makeup artist stepped back, admiring her work. "You're perfect."

Perfect. It was what she had to be. Any mistake, any hesitation, and the illusion would crack.

Nina nodded, her eyes flicking back to the mirror. The reflection startled her. It was her-but it wasn't. A face sculpted into flawlessness, something out of a magazine. She had been coached not to seem too eager, nor too indifferent. She had to strike the perfect balance. Whatever that meant.

"Thank you," she murmured.

She rose slowly, smoothing the fabric of the dress that clung to her frame like a second skin. The weight of it, the way it shimmered under the vanity lights, reminded her that she was playing a role. And she had to play it well.

For two months, she had been Adelaide Whitlock. The daughter of power, wealth, and prestige. Two months of memorizing names, mannerisms, and the smallest details of a life that was never hers. She had rehearsed this moment over and over, yet now that it was here, doubt gnawed at her.

Rose's voice pulled her back. "Miss Adelaide?"

Nina swallowed hard and stepped forward, crossing the threshold.

The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit except for the golden sconces lining the walls. The distant hum of music filtered through the heavy doors at the end, swelling with each step she took. Her pulse quickened, keeping time with the rhythm. The entrance loomed ahead, its weight pressing down on her chest.

You can do this, Nina. It's nothing. You can do it.

But the words rang hollow. They bounced uselessly inside her head, unable to take root. Her hands trembled-not from cold, but from a fear that had burrowed deep into her bones and refused to let go.

The dress-a masterpiece worth more than most would make in a lifetime-felt suffocating. The embellishments caught the light with every movement, turning her into a beacon under scrutiny. She could already feel the stares, the expectations pressing in on her.

At the base of the grand spiral staircase, Rose turned to face her. "It's your moment."

The words struck like a pronouncement of doom. She had known this moment was coming-she had been preparing for it relentlessly. But knowing it and standing on the precipice of it were two different things entirely.

"How do I look?" The question slipped