Chapter 106 A new plan everyday
Celeste:
I didn’t fight when she dismissed me. Not really. The tears had been necessary—measured, precise. Just enough to soften the edges of suspicion, not enough to look desperate. Desperation made people careless.
I was never careless.
“My lady… please I'm begging you. ” I had whispered, letting my voice break at the right places, letting my hands tremble just enough. Inside—I was already planning.
The weekend. That was the timeline they had given me. A mercy, in their minds. Time to pack. Time to leave quietly. Time to disappear. How kind. How… convenient.
The moment I stepped out of her chambers, the mask slipped. Not entirely. Just enough. My spine straightened. My breathing evened out. The trembling stopped like it had never existed.
They thought they were removing me from the board. In truth—they had just given me space to move unseen.
The cameras had already been handled. That had been the first step. A small disruption. A flicker in the system. Nothing obvious. Nothing traceable. Just enough to create gaps.
Gaps were where truth died. And where I thrived.
I didn’t rush the next part. Rushing was for amateurs. This required… precision. Timing. The right piece.
“Melinda!" I called out to a junior maid.
She turned quickly at the sound of her name, hurrying toward me with that eager, unquestioning obedience I had come to expect.
“Yes, Celeste. Do you need something?”
I let my hesitation show. Small. Fragile. Convincing.
“There’s… something I wanted to ask you.”
Her expression softened immediately. Perfect.
“I can’t promise anything, but—”
“I’m dying.”
The words landed softly. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just… placed.
Her reaction was immediate. Confusion. Panic. Concern. Exactly as expected.
“What? Are you ill? Should we call the royal doctor? What’s wrong?”
I shook my head quickly, stepping closer as if afraid of being overheard.
“No… please… don’t tell anyone.” I let my voice break—just enough.
“I don’t have much time left. I only found out recently… I just… I wanted to stay here a little longer before…”
I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t need to. People always completed tragedies on their own.
Her eyes filled with sympathy. Hooked.
“Have you told the Alpha? Maybe there’s a cure—”
“No.” Sharpened. Immediate. Then I softened again.
“The Luna dismissed me.”
That did it. I watched the shift happen in real time. Confusion turning to disbelief. Disbelief turning to anger.
“What? But she—wasn’t she the one who let you stay?”
I lowered my gaze. Quiet. Wounded.
“It seems her hatred runs deeper than kindness. After all, who doesn't know about her and Lord Cassian…”
Silence. Then—it came. Right on cue.
“To think she’s just a southern stray…” Melinda muttered under her breath, disgust lacing her tone.
There it was. Ugly. Raw. Useful.
I almost smiled. Almost.
“Please don’t speak about the Luna that way,” I murmured softly, even as satisfaction curled beneath my ribs.
“I only… wanted a little time. That’s all.”
Her expression hardened further—just not at me. Good. Very good.
“What do you need?” she asked. “I’ll help you.”
Of course you will.
I hesitated again. Carefully.
“I just… need your ID.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“I want to step outside, you know I can't leave the Estate without supervision. Just for a little while. Some fresh air. I… I can’t leave without it.”
A pause. A tiny one. Doubt trying to surface.
I let my shoulders sink. Let silence stretch. Let her feel like she was my last hope.
It worked.
“Of course,” she said quickly. “It’s just an ID. You can take it.” Then, with a scoff—
“I can’t believe the Luna is that heartless. After everything… and to think she was once taken in herself…”
Careful. So careless.
She stepped closer, pulling the ID free.
And that—that was the moment.
Timing mattered. Always.
As she extended her hand, I reached for it—but not the card.
My fingers brushed lightly against her hair. A soft, apologetic gesture. So natural it didn’t even register.
But I felt it. The slight resistance. The strand that caught between my fingers.
And then—it was mine.
“Thank you,” I whispered, taking the ID at last.
She smiled. Completely unaware.
I turned away before my expression could betray me. Before satisfaction could sharpen into something visible.
Hair. Identity. Access.
All the pieces were falling into place.
Now—all that remained… was to decide how she would be used.
And how I would save the Luna… from the very thing I was about to send for her.
I waited. Patience was the difference between power… and failure.
The halls had to empty. The lights had to dim. The house had to settle into that quiet, breathing stillness where people stopped watching and started assuming.
Melinda was easy.
By the time I slipped into the servants’ quarters, she was already asleep—curled into herself, breathing slow and deep, another maid resting just a few beds away.
I locked the door softly behind me. Not fully. Just enough to keep interruptions out—never enough to raise suspicion.
The strand of her hair rested between my fingers. Fragile.
Magic didn’t require force. It required precision.
I lit no candles. Spoke no dramatic incantations. I only needed focus.
My fingers tightened slightly around the strand. My eyes closed.
And then—I pulled.
It wasn’t physical. Not entirely. It was deeper than that. A thread beneath the surface. Identity. Essence. Reflection.
When I opened my eyes—the world had shifted.
I rose slowly. Moved to the small mirror resting against the wall. And looked.
Melinda looked back at me.
I tilted my head slightly. Tested the expression. The posture. The breath.
Perfect.
I slipped her ID into my hand and turned toward the door.
This part mattered. Not stealth. Visibility.
The night guard at the exit straightened when he saw me approaching. Recognition flickered instantly. Good.
“Melinda?” he called quietly. “Where are you going this late?”
I let out a small breath. Just enough irritation to feel real.
“Celeste isn’t well,” I said, holding up the ID without being asked. “I’m getting herbs from the outer store. I won’t be long.”
He hesitated. Just for a second. Then nodded.
“Be quick.”
Of course.
I stepped past him without another word. Felt his gaze linger. Watched. Remembering.
That was all I needed.
I didn’t go far. I didn’t need to.
When I returned, I didn’t slip in quietly.
I let my shoulder hit the edge of the doorway. Let the tray in my hand tilt—and shatter.
The sound split through the silence. Sharp. Loud. Unmistakable.
Footsteps approached almost immediately. One of the maids, half-awake, blinking.
“Melinda? What happened?”
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple like I was exhausted.
“Nothing. I’m fine. Just tired.”
I bent to pick up the pieces slowly. Then added, just loud enough—
“I got these special herbs for Luna. I hope she likes it…”
A pause. A nod. Recognition. Memory. Planted.
I didn’t wait for more questions. I gathered the remaining pieces and walked off.
I've been Seen. Heard. And remembered.
That was my entry.
Back in the room, I closed the door behind me and let the silence settle again.
Then—I let go.
The shift reversed like a shadow pulling back into place. My features softened. Changed. Returned.
Melinda slept on. Unaware. Exactly as she needed to be.
And me? I lay down. Still. Quiet.
I woke before the house. Before the first shift. Before routine could take hold.
Timing was everything.
I changed back to Melinda's face.
The kitchen was empty when I entered. Silent. Waiting.
I moved without hesitation. Measured. Precise.
Water. Leaves. Heat.
And then—the poison.
I stirred it in slowly, watching it disappear without a trace. No scent. No color.
Footsteps passed the doorway. A pause. A glance.
“Up early,” a maid muttered, barely awake.
I didn’t look up.
“The Luna’s tea won’t make itself.”
She moved on. Uninterested. Certain.
I finished. Set everything exactly where it needed to be.
Then I left—before the house fully woke. Before patterns solidified.
Back in my room, I changed back to my face, already seated when the first real movement of the morning began. Still.
From the hallway, I watched through the angle of the mounted camera.
Watched as Melinda entered the kitchen. Unaware. Routine. Predictable.
She reached for the tray. For the tea. The same tea.
And carried it out.
A small smile touched my lips.
Let them trace it. Let them question it.
They would find out.
She left the house. She returned. She said she would prepare the tea. She was seen in the kitchen. She served it.
And me? I never left my room.
I leaned back slightly, eyes steady as I followed her movement down the hall.
People don't believe what they see.
They believed what make sense.
And I had made this—perfectly sensible.