Chapter 2: Lady Channing’s Last Request

Fragile, maybe, but full of hope. I believed we could weather anything together. I wanted to believe it.

He had feelings for me. And I for him.

I saw it in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. In the way his hand lingered on mine just a moment too long. It was quiet, but it was real.

We’d hold hands. Live a simple, peaceful life together.

We’d talk about building a bigger cabin, maybe getting a dog. I pictured lazy Sundays. Coffee on the porch. A life stripped of all the complications that came later.

Next—Lila Reed, the fisher girl.

The announcement snapped me back to the present. The words echoed. I felt every eye in the room shift to me. My heart jumped, but I forced myself to move forward, step by step.

After waiting two hours, my name was finally called. It felt like forever.

I’d counted the minutes, fingers drumming nervously on my skirt. The wait had stretched forever. My nerves stretched thin as wire. Now, it was my turn.

In front of me were all the family lawyers, senior managers, relatives, and board members. All eyes on me.

Their faces were a blur of expectation and judgment. I felt like a bug under a microscope. Every flaw magnified. My palms were slick with sweat.

I was just a nobody. Always had been.

I didn’t belong in that room, not really. I was the girl from the lakeshore. The outsider. I kept my chin down, hoping no one would notice how scared I was.

So they put me at the very end. Out of the way.

I stood apart from the others, near the old sideboard with its chipped paint and faded flowers. The message was clear: know your place.

The grand hall was cavernous. The family and staff lined up on either side.

The ceiling soared overhead, chandeliers sparkling. The hush was heavy, broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. I felt tiny, swallowed up by all that space and expectation.

I’d never seen anything like it. Not even close.

I’d seen pictures in magazines, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. The grandeur was overwhelming. Almost suffocating. I tried to steady my breathing.

Instinctively, I wanted to look for Gabriel. Just to see his face.

I scanned the room, searching for his face. My eyes caught on every dark-haired man, every tailored suit, but he seemed so far away. Untouchable.

But he was so far away. Sitting at the head of the table, his face a blur.

The distance between us felt wider than ever. I wondered if he could even see me. Or if I’d already faded into the background.

"You’re in the presence of the heir. Why aren’t you showing respect?"

The reprimand was sharp, slicing through the silence. My cheeks burned. I remembered Nanny Ruth’s instructions. Hurried to obey.

I snapped back and hurriedly bowed my head, just like Nanny Ruth had taught me. Old habits die hard.

I bent low, my hair falling forward to hide my face. My heart hammered in my chest. I tried to steady my breathing. The old floor was cool beneath my knees.

The moment my forehead nearly touched the cold hardwood, a memory hit me.

A chill shot through me. The memory of another time, another life, swept over me like a wave. I gripped the edge of my skirt, knuckles white.

Suddenly, chaotic memories flooded my mind. I couldn’t stop them.

It was like being swept under by a current. Flashes of faces. Voices. The ache of betrayal and hope—all of it crashed over me, leaving me breathless.

I gripped my sleeve tight, fingers digging into my palm. Anything to stay grounded.

The pain grounded me, kept me from falling apart. I squeezed harder. Willed myself to stay present.

So, I really have been here before. There’s no denying it now.

The realization settled heavy in my chest. I’d made this choice once. Lived through the consequences. Maybe this time, I could do better.

This isn’t the first lifetime. Not for me.

The thought was both terrifying and comforting. Maybe fate was giving me another shot. Maybe I could finally get it right.

In my previous life, it was here too. Same place. Same question.

The same hall, the same faces, the same question. I could almost taste the disappointment that followed.

Gabriel asked what reward I wanted. Like it was nothing.

His voice had been gentle then, full of gratitude. I thought it meant something more.

Without thinking, I looked up and said I wanted to stay by his side. To be his wife for real.

The words had tumbled out before I could stop them. I remember the way the room went silent. Every eye turning to me. The weight of their judgment crushing.

That was asking for a place in his world. Maybe too much.

I wanted to belong. To have a family again. I wanted someone to choose me. To say I mattered.

But I didn’t know then that Gabriel had already promised himself to Sarah Langley. The judge’s daughter.

Their families had history. Their parents had planned it since they were children. I was never really a contender.

He would marry his mentor’s daughter. As his wife.

It was all arranged, set in stone long before I came along. I was just a footnote in their story.

At the same time, the judge would retire and move down South. Everyone talked about it.

The judge’s retirement was the talk of the town. People said he’d bought a house in Savannah, near the water. I wondered if he ever thought about the lives he’d changed with his decisions.

My request back then wasn’t just wishful thinking. It put Gabriel in a tough spot.

I hadn’t meant to make things harder for him. I just wanted to be seen, to matter. But my wish forced his hand. I paid the price.

And just then, a board member stood up. Trouble.

He was the judge’s rival. Didn’t want things to go smoothly for him.

The rivalry was old news—everyone in Maple Heights knew about it. The boardroom battles were legendary. Whispered about in country clubs and diners alike.

So he made a long speech. Nitpicked every detail of my two years with Gabriel.

He listed every kindness, every rumor, twisting the story to suit his agenda. I stood there, cheeks burning, wishing I could disappear.

"If you abandon this girl, won’t you break the hearts of all the regular folks who look up to you?"

His words were a weapon, aimed at Gabriel’s sense of duty. I hated being used as a pawn. But I had no choice.

"Lila Reed, what do you want?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and final. I felt every eye on me, waiting for my answer.

At last, Gabriel still asked. He couldn’t avoid it.

His voice was quieter now, almost resigned. I could see the conflict in his eyes. The weight of expectation pressing down on him.

Cold sweat trickled down my forehead. I wiped it away.

I wiped it away, hoping no one noticed. My hands shook. But I tried to keep my voice steady.

In my previous life, he finally caved to public opinion. Married me as a wife of equal standing.

The wedding was grand, but I felt like an afterthought. The whispers never stopped. I never truly belonged.

But I couldn’t stand sharing a husband with another woman. It broke me.

It ate at me, day after day. I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But the jealousy and loneliness gnawed at my heart.

Naturally, I fought with him. Even packed my bags, ready to go back to my lakeside town.

I stuffed my clothes into a battered suitcase, tears streaming down my face. I was ready to leave it all behind. To start over somewhere no one knew my name.

Gabriel stopped me. He always did.

He took my suitcase and, one by one, pulled out my clothes. Slow. Deliberate.

His hands were gentle, folding each shirt with care. He looked at me, eyes pleading. "Lila, why bother? Even if you ran to the ends of the earth, I’d still find you."

The words should have comforted me. But they only made me feel more trapped. I wanted freedom, not possession.

But on the wedding night, he still went to Sarah. His childhood sweetheart.

I waited alone, the silence stretching into the early hours. I could hear laughter from the other wing. The sound of music and celebration. I felt invisible.

Until the candles burned out, Sarah’s maid from the judge’s house came over. I should have known.

She knocked softly, her face unreadable. I opened the door, hoping for kindness, but found none.

She brought a glass of wine. I should have refused.

"Miss, please drink this. There’s only ever been one Mrs. Whitmore—how can there be another of equal standing?"

Her words were cold, final. I stared at the glass, unsure whether to trust her.

The wine was strong. Too strong.

It burned all the way down, leaving a bitter aftertaste. I felt dizzy, the room spinning. I realized too late what had happened.

I remember the burning pain as it slid down my throat. I’ll never forget it.

I doubled over, clutching my stomach. My vision blurred. I knew I was in trouble. No one came to help.

If I had another chance, I just wanted to live. That’s all.

I didn’t care about titles or fortune anymore. I just wanted a life—a real one. Free from all this pain.

But how should I live? Was it even possible?

It was the question that haunted me. Could I ever really escape? Was survival enough?

I wanted to leave. But could I really leave?

The world outside the estate was big. But it was full of people who knew my story. I didn’t know if I’d ever be truly free.

Maple Heights was full of powerful people. I was just an ordinary fisher girl.

I didn’t have connections, or money, or a family name. I was nobody. In a place like this, that meant everything.

One wrong step, and I could lose everything. It scared me.

I tread carefully, every move calculated. I couldn’t afford another mistake.

"Lila?"

Gabriel called my name again. I jumped.

His tone was a little impatient. He didn’t like waiting.

I heard the edge in his voice, the way he clipped the syllables. He was used to getting his way. I could tell he didn’t like waiting.

People with power are always like that. Even though, for those two years, he was always gentle.

I remembered the softness in his voice, the way he’d laugh at my jokes, the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to reconcile that man with the one before me now.

"Please, Mr. Whitmore. I’m just a girl with no family, and I’d like to ask for a favor..."

My voice trembled, but I kept going. I had to. This was my chance to survive.

I paused, finally making up my mind. No turning back now.

The silence stretched. I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

"May I call you my big brother?"

The words felt strange, but safer than the truth. I hoped he’d understand. I hoped it would be enough.

The title of ‘princess’ is just a name. No real power.

I’d heard stories about the Whitmore women—how they were given fancy titles but kept far from the real decisions. I didn’t want that. I wanted freedom.

Especially in recent years, after too many titles and money were handed out, the Whitmore family started giving out only surnames, not real titles.

The old ways were dying out. Now, a title was just a gesture. A pat on the head. I wasn’t sure if it was even worth wanting.

Some respected women in town, to show the family’s favor, would occasionally be given the honorary title of ‘Lady’ and a house to live in. It sounded nice.

It sounded nice—respect, a home, a fresh start. Maybe it was enough.

I knelt on the floor. Waiting.

My knees ached, but I stayed put. I didn’t dare look up. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

I didn’t dare look up. Not now.

All I could see were the polished shoes of the people in power, their reflections warped in the glossy floor. I counted my breaths, willing myself not to cry.

Even such an empty title was safer than staying by Gabriel’s side. I’d learned my lesson.

I’d learned my lesson. Safety mattered more than love or pride.

All I could see were his polished dress shoes. Step by step, coming closer.

The sound of his footsteps echoed, each one measured and deliberate. My heart thudded with every beat.

He slowly bent down, his voice cold as ice. I braced myself.

I felt his presence close, the chill of his words brushing against my cheek. I held my breath. Waiting for his judgment.

"Lila Reed, you want to be my sister?"

The words were sharp, almost mocking. I flinched, but didn’t move.

The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

You could hear a pin drop. No one dared to speak. Not even to whisper.

"Sister..." Gabriel sneered. "Lila, what makes you think a fisher girl is worthy of the Whitmore family tree?"

His words stung, but I’d expected them. I kept my head down, refusing to let him see my pain.

His right hand unconsciously touched the old leather keychain hanging from his belt. A habit.

I noticed the gesture—small, almost tender. It was a habit of his, one I remembered well.

It was a little worn. Familiar.

The leather was cracked, the stitching frayed. It looked out of place against his expensive suit.

Embroidered on it was a white egret. My work.

I’d stitched it myself, years ago. The bird was a symbol of hope, of new beginnings. I wondered if he remembered.

That was the birthday gift I gave him. A lifetime ago.

He’d smiled when he opened it, eyes soft with gratitude. It was one of the few times I saw him truly happy.

Gabriel probably didn’t even realize it. He never did.

He fiddled with the keychain when he was nervous or upset. It was a tell, one he didn’t know he had.

Whenever he argued with me and wanted me to say something sweet, he’d always make that gesture. Every time.

It was his way of reaching out, of asking for forgiveness without words. I used to give in, but not this time.

But this time, I didn’t want to give in again. Not anymore.

I steeled myself, refusing to be swayed by old habits. I deserved better.

I said nothing. Let the silence speak.

The silence was my answer. I wouldn’t beg, not anymore.

I didn’t even look up at him. Not this time.

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes. It was a small act of defiance. But it felt powerful.

The tension in the air was thick. You could cut it with a knife.

Every breath felt heavy, every second stretched. I could feel the judgment in the room. The weight of expectation pressing down.

Until a man on the right cleared his throat and spoke: "Mr. Whitmore—"

The interruption was a relief. I glanced up, just enough to see who it was.

It was Judge Langley. Of course.

His presence was commanding, even in old age. He carried himself with the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

When Gabriel was cut out of the will, he managed the family business in his place. Kept it all together.

For years, he’d been the real power behind the scenes. People respected him. Even feared him.

Over the years, he was like a regent. Holding all the power. Nearly running the show himself.

He’d kept the Whitmore empire afloat, making tough decisions when others wouldn’t. His word was law in Maple Heights.

"There’s no shortage of talented women. There’s precedent in this family for granting honorary titles and residences. In my view, Lila Reed saved your life, so this request isn’t out of line."

His words were measured, diplomatic. He made it sound like a kindness. But I knew better.

Was Judge Langley being kind? Not a chance.

Of course not—never.

His eyes were sharp, calculating. He was protecting his own interests, not mine.

During those two years Gabriel and I relied on each other in the lakeside town, a man and woman alone, anyone could imagine what people thought.

The rumors were inevitable. People loved to talk, to invent scandals where none existed. I’d learned to ignore the whispers.

He was just protecting his daughter’s future. Nothing more.

Sarah was his pride and joy. He’d do anything to secure her place in the family.

The heir should only have one official wife. That’s how it’s always been.

In families like the Whitmores, appearances mattered more than anything. There was no room for complications.

Gabriel reached out and gently steadied him. Respect, even now.

It was a rare gesture of respect, a reminder of their complicated history. I watched, wondering what would happen next.

"Sir, why bother?" His tone softened, but was still cold and distant.

Gabriel’s words were careful, his face unreadable. He was playing a game, one I didn’t understand.

"But what if I insist on refusing?"

The words dropped slowly. Heavy.

His voice was low, dangerous. The threat was clear, even if unspoken.

Like a stone in a well. Cold and sharp.

The silence that followed was chilling. No one dared to move.

But even so, he’d only just returned to Maple Heights. His position was shaky.

His power was still new, fragile. He couldn’t afford to make enemies—not yet.

The room was full of people loyal to Judge Langley. I could see it in their faces.

I could see it in their faces, the way they looked to the judge for guidance. Gabriel was outnumbered, for now.

And the judge kept his stubborn stance. Wouldn’t budge.

He stood his ground, unyielding. It was a battle of wills, and I was caught in the middle.

"If you do this, you’ll lose the people’s trust."

The warning was clear. Reputation was everything in this town.

With that, a whole row of family and staff knelt or bowed their heads. Like a scene from a play.

The gesture was dramatic, almost theatrical. I wondered if they meant it. Or if it was just another performance.

"Mr. Whitmore, please reconsider..."

Their voices blended together, a chorus of pleading. The room felt smaller. The air thicker.

Gabriel’s face was tight. Angry.

His jaw clenched, eyes hard. He looked like a man cornered. Desperate for a way out.

He looked coldly at the people kneeling, as if trying to memorize every name. He wouldn’t forget.

It was a silent promise—he wouldn’t forget who stood against him. Not ever.

In the end, he said nothing. Just walked away.

The silence was final, heavy with meaning. He turned and walked out, leaving the room in stunned quiet.

He turned and walked out. Gone.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, growing fainter with each step. I watched him go, unsure whether to feel relief or regret.

In my previous life, it was a board member who stood up. This time, the judge.

This time, it was the judge. Different players, same game.

But what never changed was the tense stand-off and hidden agendas. Always the same.

The players changed, but the game stayed the same. I was just a piece, moved around at their whim.

No matter how many times I went through it, I always felt bone-tired. Worn out.

The exhaustion settled deep in my bones. I just wanted peace. A quiet life far from all this.

Leaving the hall, Nanny Ruth took my arm. Led me away.

Her grip was gentle, but insistent. She led me away from the crowd, her voice low with concern.

"Oh, honey, what happened in there today? It’s the first time I’ve heard Mr. Whitmore talk to Judge Langley like that."

She looked at me with wide eyes, searching my face for answers. I shrugged, unable to explain the tangled mess of politics and pride.

"Like what?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. She leaned in.

She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “The heir’s always been respectful to his mentor. Never seen him push back like that.”

I didn’t know Judge Langley. Not really.

He was a stranger to me, all sharp suits and sharper words. I only knew what others said about him.

But I knew Gabriel. Or thought I did.

I’d seen the softness beneath his armor, the way he smiled when no one was watching. I wondered if that man was still in there, somewhere.

He was full of ambition. The night before we returned to Maple Heights, he told me who he really was.

We sat by the lake, the water dark and still. He spoke quietly, confessing his dreams and fears. I listened, my heart aching for him.

Then, holding my hand, he shared his vision for the future. He wanted it all.

"End the family feuds. Bring peace to the business. Win back what’s rightfully ours."

His words were passionate, full of conviction. I saw the fire in his eyes, the determination that drove him.

Someone like him could never be content to be under someone else’s thumb. He was born to lead.

He was born to lead, to fight for what he wanted. I admired him for it, even as it scared me.

Of course. That’s just who he was.

Power and politics had nothing to do with me. I just wanted to survive.

I was just a bystander, swept up in their storm. I longed for something simpler.

What I wanted was simple. Just a home.

A place to call home. A life of my own. Nothing more.

To survive. That’s all.

That was all I asked. To make it through, one day at a time.

As long as I could live, that was enough. I’d settle for that.

I’d learned to be grateful for small mercies. Safety, warmth, a roof over my head. It was enough.

For that, I had to stay far away from these people. No more drama.

Their world was dangerous, full of hidden traps. I wanted no part of it.

But life doesn’t always go as planned. Not for me.

Fate has a way of pulling you back in, no matter how hard you try to escape.

I had nowhere to go in Maple Heights, so I stayed on the estate. What choice did I have?

The town was small, and the Whitmores owned half of it. There was nowhere else to run.

When Nanny Ruth and I were heading to the guest wing, someone called out to me. I stopped.

The voice was unfamiliar, but commanding. I stopped, turning to see who it was.

"Miss Reed."

I turned. Ready for anything.

It was Judge Langley. Again.

He stood in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were sharp, but not unkind.

His hair and beard were graying, his back a little stooped. If not for the crimson silk tie and tailored suit, he’d look like any old man on Main Street.

He looked tired, older than I remembered. The weight of years showed in the lines on his face.

"I never thought you’d have the nerve to make such a request to Mr. Whitmore."

His tone was curious, almost amused. I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed silent.

I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing.

Words caught in my throat. I lowered my gaze, hoping he’d move on.

So I just bowed my head in silence. Let him think what he wanted.

It was safer that way. Let him think what he wanted.

Judge Langley smiled. A politician’s smile.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile politicians wore—polished, practiced, hiding more than it revealed.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. I tensed.

His words were meant for me alone. I tensed, unsure what was coming next.

"As long as you don’t want anything else, I can help you win the title of Lady..."

He dangled the offer like bait. I wondered what he wanted in return.

"If you’d still like a suitable husband."

The suggestion was clear. He was offering me a way out—a respectable marriage, a place in society. But at what cost?

"Most of the young men in this family are my protégés."

He spoke with pride, as if that made the offer more appealing. I wondered if he realized how little it meant to me.

He smiled slightly. Like he knew something I didn’t.

It was a knowing smile, full of secrets. I felt a chill run down my spine.

His tone was easy, as if sure I wouldn’t refuse such a tempting offer. He didn’t know me.

He was confident, maybe too much so. I wondered if he saw through me.

But what flashed through my mind was the previous life. The poison.

The memory of poisoned wine, of betrayal and pain. I shivered, pushing the thought away.

The glass of poisoned wine brought by his daughter Sarah’s maid. I’d never forget.

I remembered the way her eyes glinted, the cold smile on her lips. The taste of the wine still haunted me.

The poison was harsh, burning my throat. Worse than anything.

I’d never known pain like it. It was a warning—one I wouldn’t ignore again.

To think Judge Langley knew nothing about his daughter’s actions—I couldn’t believe it. He knew everything.

He was too smart, too careful. Nothing happened in his house without his say-so.

But—maybe for now, we wanted the same thing.

At least for now, we were on the same side. For now.

Our interests aligned, for the moment. I’d play along, as long as it kept me safe.

I lowered my head, my tone calm. Hiding my fear.

I forced my voice steady, hiding the fear underneath.

"Don’t worry, sir. I know my place. Some things just aren’t meant for me."

The words felt like a lie, but I hoped he’d believe them.

Whether Judge Langley was a good man, I didn’t know. Probably not.

People in power rarely were. But he was a good father, at least to Sarah.

But he seemed to be a good father. That counted for something.

He fought for his daughter, protected her future. I could respect that, even if I didn’t trust him.

For the next three days, he led his supporters to the Whitmore estate every day to plead my case. Relentless.

It was a show of force, a reminder of where the real power lay. I watched from my window, grateful and wary all at once.

Finally, he got me that letter. I could hardly believe it.

The butler delivered it on a silver tray, the seal heavy with wax. My hands shook as I broke it open.

[Commoner Lila Reed, with a gentle heart and strong character.]

The words were simple, but they meant everything. I read them over and over, barely believing they were real.

[Bestow the honorary title of Lady Channing, and grant a residence.]

A new name, a new beginning. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Very short, just a few words. But they changed everything.

But they carried the weight of freedom, of a chance to start over.

There was no family surname given, but I didn’t care for the Whitmore name anyway. Didn’t want it.

I was done chasing after things that would never be mine. This was enough.

I knelt on the floor. Tears in my eyes.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back. I let out a long, shaky breath. Relief flooding through me.

Finally, I let out a long breath. It was over.

The weight of the past slipped away, replaced by hope. I could breathe again.

At last, at last. Free.

I whispered the words to myself, savoring the taste of victory. I’d survived. That was all that mattered.

I didn’t have to fall into the same trap of family drama as in my previous life. Not this time.

I’d learned my lesson. This time, I chose freedom over love. Safety over dreams.

The butler who delivered the letter saw me dazed and stepped forward to help me up. Kindness when I needed it.

He offered his hand, steady and kind. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

"This is a great day. From now on, when you see Mr. Whitmore, you should call him ‘big brother.’"

His words were gentle, almost fatherly. I nodded, repeating the phrase in my mind until it felt real.

Big Brother Whitmore. It sounded strange.

Those words rolled around on my tongue. I tried to get used to them.

They tasted strange, but not unpleasant. I wondered if I’d ever get used to them.

Funny how things turn out. Life’s like that.

Life rarely goes the way you plan. But sometimes, the path you never wanted leads you exactly where you need to be.