Anne-Marie's eyes widened as she stepped inside the mansion, her breath catching in her throat.

"Woah,"

she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it. She instantly regretted speaking aloud, but who could blame her? The hospital room had impressed her, but this—this was something out of a dream. She was standing in a real-life mansion, the largest and most opulent place she had ever seen. The sheer scale of the estate was overwhelming.

The ride to the Vutron estate had been short, but the journey to the mansion was double the journey. It felt like she was stepping into another world. Every road they took, every house they passed, screamed of wealth and privilege. This wasn't just a different part of the city—it was a different universe. Rich people really did own the world, or at least, this part of it.

Everything about the mansion was perfect. The trees lining the driveway, the wrought-iron gates, and now, the house itself. It was magnificent, too vast for her to take in all at once. The hallway alone was wider than the entirety of her old apartment. She followed Oliver inside, her steps slow and tentative, with Ramsey trailing closely behind them. Anne-Marie felt a mix of awe and trepidation as she took in her surroundings, her head turning to catch every detail. The grand chandeliers above her head, the polished marble floors that reflected the light, and the subtle scent of luxury that lingered in the air.

"Welcome home, sir." A warm, matronly voice broke through Anne-Marie's thoughts, and she turned to see an older woman approaching them. The woman's face was kind, with chubby cheeks and smooth skin that bore the gentle marks of age. Her grey hair was tied back neatly, and she wore a welcoming smile that made Anne-Marie feel slightly more at ease.

"This is Matilda," Oliver said, his tone businesslike but respectful. "She's the head of staff here and has been my daughter's nanny for years."

Anne-Marie glanced at him, a bit taken aback by his casual reference to Paris in front of her. Wasn't this supposed to be a secret?

"Don't worry about it," Oliver assured her, sensing her unease. "Matilda is family. She knows everything."

Oh. Anne-Marie's anxious smile returned as she nodded, trying to digest the information. The whole situation was still surreal to her.

"Welcome to the Vutron home, Miss Davis," Matilda said, her voice gentle but with a hint of formality. "Or should I say, Miss Vurton?"

The way Matilda addressed her sent a chill down Anne-Marie's spine. It was strange, unsettling even, to be called by someone else's name, especially someone as significant as Paris Vurton. But she forced a smile, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Matilda will show you to your room and help you get acquainted with the household," Oliver continued. "She'll also teach you everything you need to know about Paris—how to walk, talk, and eat like her. She would make sure you blend in perfectly."

Anne-Marie's stomach twisted in knots. It was bad enough that she had to pretend to be Paris, but now she had to learn how to *be* her in every way? The idea of losing herself in this role, of lying to everyone, weighed heavily on her.

Oliver's voice pulled her back to the moment.

"We'll start tonight with a photoshoot, followed by an interview with a few journalists interested in covering your recovery story."

Anne-Marie frowned, confusion evident in her eyes.

"Tonight? That's happening tonight?"

"With me and my wife, yes." Oliver clarified.
"Ramsey here," he gestured to the imposing man behind them, who had been silently watching the exchange, "would prepare you for the interview. He'll go over some questions you might be asked and coach you on how to respond."

Anne-Marie exhaled shakily, her anxiety rising. The next few months were going to be even more challenging than she had imagined. She had no idea how she was going to keep up this charade, maintain the facade, and deceive so many people. But she had no choice—it was for Abel, for a better life, for both of them.

Matilda seemed to sense her apprehension and offered a reassuring smile.

"Let me show you to your room, Miss Vurton. You'll feel better once you've had a chance to settle in."

Anne-Marie nodded, feeling slightly comforted by the woman's calm demeanor. She followed Matilda up the long, grand staircase, each step echoing softly in the expansive hallway. The corridor was just as opulent as the rest of the mansion, with ornate lights and expensive-looking artwork lining the walls. Matilda led her to a large white door, pausing to give Anne-Marie a moment to take in her surroundings before opening it with a soft click.

Anne-Marie's breath hitched as she stepped inside the room. It wasn't just a room—it was a kingdom unto itself, bigger than her entire apartment. The scent of fresh flowers far away from her reach and expensive perfumes filled the air. She couldn't help but marvel at the luxurious decor: the ornate fireplace in the corner, the plush purple sofas that looked like they belonged in a palace, and the massive bed covered in the most exquisite duvets she had ever seen. The walls were adorned with elegant patterns, adding to the room's regal atmosphere.

Her eyes wandered to the stairs leading up to a small library filled with shelves of books and more comfortable seating. In one corner, there was a state-of-the-art entertainment system, complete with the latest gaming consoles. On the opposite side of the room, a bubble-like hanging chair made of intricate strawwork swung gently in front of a large window that offered a stunning view of the estate's gardens.

"And that," Matilda pointed to a large glass door on the side, interrupting Anne-Marie's thoughts, "is the dressing room and closet. The bathroom is to your left."

Anne-Marie's head spun as she took it all in. How could a single room be this extravagant? She had never imagined she would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone sleep in one. She finally understood where all her taxes had been going.

Matilda's voice was gentle but firm.
"Why don't you freshen up and get some rest, Miss Vurton? We'll go over the details later."

Rest. That sounded perfect. Anne-Marie nodded, grateful for the moment of respite. She needed time to process everything, to gather her strength for what lay ahead.

Matilda offered a final smile before exiting the room, leaving Anne-Marie alone in the vast space. As the door clicked shut, she found herself back where she started—standing in the middle of a room that felt more like a fantasy than reality.

Slowly, she walked to the bed and sat on it, sinking into the soft mattress. She could have fallen asleep right there if it hadn't been for the family photo on the bedside table that caught her eye. It was a picture of Paris with her family, smiling and happy.

A wave of emotions crashed over her. She missed Abel desperately, worried about him every second of every day. But she had to be strong—for him, for their future. She threw herself back onto the bed, stretching out her arms and trying to relax, even as her mind raced.

"You've got this, Marie," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the large room. "You always do."

And with that, she closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that she could survive the storm she had just walked into.

*************************************************

Anne-Marie stepped out of the bathroom, her white bathrobe hugging her damp skin as she hummed softly to the music that had filled the luxurious space. The shower had been the best of her life, and she had nearly drifted off to sleep in the jacuzzi, surrounded by the scent of grapefruit, the taste of fruit wine, and the soothing melodies playing in the background. As she toweled her hair dry, she couldn't help but feel like she was floating in a dream. Maybe, just maybe, living this life wouldn't be so bad after all.

Still caught in the afterglow of her relaxation, Anne-Marie twirled playfully, her feet dancing lightly across the plush carpet as she made her way into the bedroom. Her movements were carefree, unburdened—until she looked up and froze in place.

There, standing with an appraising smirk, was Denise Vurton. The sight of her struck Anne-Marie like a lightning bolt, jolting her out of her momentary bliss. Her breath caught in her throat, and her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and shock. How could she have been so careless? She hadn't expected to run into anyone, least of all Paris's stepmother.

Denise, dressed impeccably in a black pencil skirt and a striped blouse with the sleeves rolled up, looked every bit the poised and polished matriarch. But her gaze was piercing, studying Anne-Marie as if trying to peel back the layers and see what was beneath. Anne-Marie's heart raced, her fingers tapping nervously against her thigh. She felt exposed, vulnerable—like a fraud who had been caught red-handed.

"You're her, aren't you?" Denise's voice was smooth, with an edge of curiosity. "Anne-Marie?"

Anne-Marie could only nod, her mouth too dry to form words. The way Denise was looking at her made her skin crawl with discomfort. It was as if Denise was searching for something, maybe even judging her, and Anne-Marie felt every inch of that scrutiny.

Denise let out a soft laugh, a sound that was more amused than warm. She tugged lightly at her collar, trying to ease the tension in the air.

"Forgive me if I'm staring too much or if I seem a little... intimidating," she said, noticing how uneasy Anne-Marie had become.
"It's just—you look so much like her. I don't know how to wrap my head around it."

Anne-Marie managed a weak smile, trying to show some understanding. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Denise's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. She seemed to take a moment to compose herself, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a black card.

"My husband and I wanted you to have this," she said, stepping forward and handing the card to Anne-Marie. "It's Paris's credit card."

Anne-Marie's eyes widened as she took the card, her fingers trembling slightly. She stared down at the sleek, black piece of plastic, her mind reeling. She had heard of cards like these—unlimited credit, reserved for only the wealthiest. She had never imagined holding one in her hands. The reality of the life she was stepping into hit her like a tidal wave.

"You won't understand it yet but life in the Imperial city can be a bit intimidating." Denise continued, watching Anne-Marie's reaction closely. "Buy whatever you need when you're out with friends, or you're alone. I figured you'd need it, especially since school starts in a few days."

"Sc-school?" Anne-Marie stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The shock of the credit card was still settling in, and now this? School?

Denise nodded, her expression softening into something almost maternal as she turned her gaze toward the bed. Anne-Marie followed her eyes and felt her stomach drop when she saw the neatly laid-out uniform. The sight of it brought back a flood of memories and an overwhelming sense of reality crashing down on her. She knew that uniform. It belonged to the Royal Academy—the most prestigious school in the entire country.

Anne-Marie had seen it on TV, heard people talk about it, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought she'd wear it. The academy was for the elite, the children of the most powerful families in Breton, including the royal family itself. And now, she was expected to walk in those halls, pretend to be one of them.

"I washed and ironed them myself," Denise said, her voice tinged with pride.

Anne-Marie swallowed hard, her eyes glued to the uniform. It was different from any school uniform she had ever seen—elegant, almost regal, made from the richest materials. She could feel the weight of it, not just in terms of the fabric, but the expectations that came with wearing it.

Denise scoffed lightly, drawing Anne-Marie's attention back to her.
"It's funny," she said, her tone almost wistful. "You're not her, but somehow, it feels like she's home again."

Anne-Marie didn't know how to respond. She could see the pain in Denise's eyes, the longing for a connection with the daughter who had always kept her at arm's length. Denise sniffed, trying to hold back her emotions, but the vulnerability in her voice was unmistakable.

"You know, Paris never let me do things like this for her," Denise confessed. "She barely ever let me into her room. I wasn't able to do a lot of things I wanted to do for her, but at least I can do them now, for you... it makes me feel a bit better, like she was closer."

Anne-Marie was stunned. Why was Denise sharing this with her, a total stranger? What did she expect her to say? She felt a pang of sympathy for Denise, but also an uncomfortable awareness of the role she was about to play in this family's life.

"W-well," Anne-Marie stammered, searching for something—anything—appropriate to say. "If it makes you feel better, I think you're really thoughtful, and... and pretty."

Denise let out a small, genuine laugh, her eyes softening with amusement.

"Thank you," she said, clearly touched by the compliment.

A brief silence settled between them, filled with unspoken words and complex emotions. Denise finally broke it, her voice calm and composed once more.

"You should get some rest before the photoshoot," she advised, dropping her folded arms and turning toward the door. "You'll need all your energy, or what's left of it."

Anne-Marie watched her go, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

"Mrs. Vurton," she called out, her voice stopping Denise in her tracks.

Denise turned back to face her, one hand on the doorknob.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Anne-Marie said, her voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

Denise smiled—a soft, almost melancholic smile—before nodding and exiting the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Anne-Marie exhaled a shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She turned back to the uniform on the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. The reality of what she was stepping into was starting to settle in, and it was terrifying. She was about to go back to school, not just any school, but the Royal Academy. The weight of it all threatened to crush her.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Just great."

And with that, she knew that there was no turning back. The life she had known was gone, replaced by something far more complicated and demanding. But she had to do this—for Abel, and for the future she wanted to build. She just hoped she could survive it.