For so long, Alice thought she’d been cut off. Deleted. A ghost Aurora had locked in a past life. She’d told herself it didn’t matter. That they weren’t the same. That they never had been.
"She said," Hardy continued, "’If we are still as identical as we were when we were kids, and Alice steps out looking exactly like me, in my clothes, you would know in a second that it is not me.’"
"And you... did?" she asked, voice barely audible.
"I did," he said quietly. "I was at the wedding. Just for a bit."
She gripped the railing. The air felt thinner than it had a second ago.
"Why aren’t you... exposing me? Or her?" Her voice cracked. "Did you know she was sick?"
Hardy looked at her carefully. "Is that what you were told?"
Confusion flickered in her chest. "Yes," she said. "That she’s... battling with her life. But she’s undergoing treatment..."
Those were the exact words Priscilla had said to her.
Hardy gave her a long look. "I’ll be honest," He started. "I don’t know everything about her personal life. But I saw her. A little over a month ago. And she was fine. At least, physically."
Alice stared at him, her stomach sinking.
A little over a month ago.
Priscilla had also met her then.
Her legs weakened. She leaned on the railing harder.
Then... who had lied?
And more terrifying: why?
"Where is she?" she whispered.
"If you don’t know," Hardy said slowly, "then the one who does... is Priscilla. I don’t know what she said to make you agree to this, but you’re in the lion’s den now. And you shouldn’t trust her."
Alice’s heart raced. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges.
Hardy’s voice dropped.
"But most importantly... only you can find Aurora."
"Find...?" she echoed, alarm ringing in her ears. "You think Priscilla did something to her?"
"Yes," he said, tone steel. "And while I could open an investigation, do you know what that means for you?"
One call from him, and the whole charade would unravel. The world would know she wasn’t Aurora. That she was a fraud. A lie. And just like that, she’d go from stand-in bride to criminal impersonator.
In other words, if she didn’t want that to happen, she had to find Aurora.
And in other other words, this was a subtle threat.
"Are you... threatening me?" She felt cold sweat slide down her head.
Her lips trembled. "Are you... threatening me?"
"No," Hardy said softly, steadily. "I’d never harm you. You’re Aurora’s sister. I believe you care enough to want the truth. And I’ll help you. But this has to stay quiet—until we know more. If Priscilla really is behind this... we’re running out of time."
His certainty that Priscilla had done something sent a cold shiver down Alice’s spine. The breeze suddenly felt too sharp, slicing past her damp skin. Her head swam.
"What’s your relationship with her?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "What are you to her?"
Hardy opened his mouth to answer—
A quiet sound. Almost nothing. But Alice heard it.
The shift in air. The invisible gravity of a presence behind her. Her breath caught.
The door creaked open.
She turned, but her vision tipped violently. Her knees buckled and she reached out blindly, hands fumbling for the balcony rail. Hardy stepped forward like he might catch her, but then he stopped.
Because a second later, he was there.
He didn’t look at her.
His eyes, dark and thunderous, locked onto Hardy like a blade drawn under candlelight. Controlled. Cold.
"What a curious sight," he said darkly, voice low and controlled, but laced with unmistakable irritation. "The Host... sharing secrets with a married lady. Away from the supposed dinner."
Hardy didn’t blink. He straightened, his composure ice-calm, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. "She was unwell. I brought her out for air."
"Did you," Hades echoed, voice dropping lower. Quieter. More lethal.
His gaze landed on Alice.
She was trembling. Burning up. Her face flushed, her hair damp with sweat. Her lashes fluttered weakly, barely holding up. And for a moment, Hades just stared.
Then his jaw tightened. A flicker of hesitation passed behind his eyes, brief, almost invisible.
Without a word, he stepped forward and swept her off her feet like she weighed nothing. His arms locked around her in one clean, effortless motion, one under her legs, the other firm against her back.
"W-what are you— I’m fine— I can walk—"
The word was soft but commanding. Final. Like a door shutting in her face.
She instinctively gripped his shirt as another sickening wave of heat surged through her body. Her skin was slick, her stomach a hollow pit of acid. She hadn’t eaten all day. If she moved again, she’d vomit. And not just from the fever, but from everything; the lies, the pressure, the weight of it all.
This was more than embarrassing.
This was... diabolical.
And worse, she couldn’t protest.
She felt that if she moved even a bit, she would throw up bile. Because nothing was in her stomach as she had been starving the entire day.
Hades turned without looking back, the door swinging open again as he strode back into the house, his pace sharp and unrelenting.
Some guests who had no business being in the corridor right now, just conveniently happened to be there and they paused. Heads turned.
Then, under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear:
"I don’t care what secrets you’re hiding. But next time you feel like collapsing..." his voice turned ice-cold, "do it somewhere I can see you."
She believed those were the last words she heard that night. And his face was also the last she saw.
Everything completely blacked out.