Yours Truly

The scent of aged parchment and faint dust clung to the air in the dimly lit study, a familiar comfort for Loraine Lopez, even in this unfamiliar body. She, Adelina Medallian, Duchess of Sullivan, meticulously reviewed the household ledgers, her quill scratching softly across the paper. Three months had passed since her abrupt transmigration, three months of pretending to be the demure noblewoman everyone expected, all while plotting her escape from a fate she knew too well.

Her fingers ached, not from the simple act of writing, but from the constant tension of maintaining a facade. The grand silence of the Duke’s northern manor was occasionally broken by the distant howl of the wind, a stark reminder of the frigid isolation that mirrored her emotional state.

“Duchess, is there a problem? Are you feeling unwell?” Sabrina’s voice, ever gentle and concerned, broke through her thoughts. Adelina looked up, forcing a practiced, soft smile. Sabrina, her loyal Lady-in-Waiting, stood by the door, her expression etched with worry. Adelina knew Sabrina interpreted her troubled demeanor as heartache over the Duke’s coldness. If only she knew the truth.