Chapter 3: Secrets, Swears, and Shadows

On the way to church with Mom to light a candle,

The stained glass caught the morning sun, painting rainbows across the pews. Mom held my hand a little too tightly, her lips moving in silent prayer.

A socialite who’d always disliked me blocked my path. “Know your place—you’ll never be worthy of Senator Price.”

She wore a pink dress and a smirk, her words sharp as her manicure. The other girls tittered behind her, waiting for my reaction.

I shrugged. “Fine, then I don’t like Julian Price anymore.”

I let my voice go flat, bored, as if I were talking about the weather.

“From now on, I’ll avoid him whenever I see him.”

I crossed my arms, daring her to push me further.

She was stunned. “…Are you messing with me?”

Her mouth hung open, not sure if I was joking or just crazy.

I raised my hand and swore to the sky. “If I, Harper McAllister, ever like Julian Price again—even a little—may lightning strike me.”

I said it loud enough for the whole street to hear, my voice ringing out over the church bells.

The lake water was icy cold, the light just overhead but forever out of reach.

A memory flashed—sinking beneath the surface, lungs burning, reaching for something I could never grasp.

My lungs felt as if they were burning.

It was the same panic, the same helplessness, as that day in my third life.

Just like how I ended up in my third life.

History repeats itself, but this time, I was determined to break the cycle.

“N-no need to go that far…”

The socialite’s bravado cracked, her voice barely a whisper. She backed away, eyes wide.

Maybe she thought I’d lost my mind and was afraid I’d infect her, so she hurried away.

Her friends followed, their laughter fading as they disappeared down the sidewalk.

Her pink dress soon vanished from view.

I watched her go, a strange sense of relief settling over me.

Not far away, beneath a maple tree, a figure stood quietly, meeting my gaze.

Julian Price, of course. He always knew how to make an entrance—or an exit. Entrance. Exit.

He leaned against the tree, arms crossed, looking like he owned the world. Owned the world.

Dressed in a pale suit, slender and upright, like a vampire lord banished from his court.

He looked out of place in our little town, like something out of a storybook—elegant, untouchable. Untouchable.

Who knew how long he’d been standing there?

Long enough to hear everything, I was sure.

Julian’s tactics were far subtler than Westin’s.

He was all silk and shadows, never letting anyone see the strings he pulled.

In my third life, after marrying me, he never showed his true colors like Westin did.

He wore his mask so well, even I believed it for a while.

He treated me with courtesy, like a loving husband.

He pulled out chairs, opened doors, remembered my favorite flowers.

Even during my period, though he found it gross, he’d still dine with me.

He’d wrinkle his nose but never complain, always the gentleman.

I was bad at sewing; though he disliked my clumsy embroidery, he’d still use my handkerchiefs.

He’d tuck them in his pocket, never a word about the crooked stitches.

He never touched me, saying he cherished me.

He’d brush my hair from my face, whispering that he wanted to wait for the right moment.

But every portrait he painted was taller, fairer, with fuller curves and a slimmer waist than me.

The canvases lining his study were all idealized versions of someone else—someone I could never be.

At some point, I became more and more insecure, feeling less and less worthy of him.

I compared myself to those paintings, shrinking a little more each day.

He was successful and handsome, gentle, with no parents, having built everything himself.

People called him a self-made man, the American dream in a tailored suit.

And me? If not for my looks, I had no talent, a bad temper—how could I deserve him?

I picked at my flaws like scabs, convinced I was lucky he even looked at me.

I stopped going out, stopped playing tennis, even avoided sweets for fear of gaining weight.

My world shrank to the size of our house. I watched the world go by from behind the curtains.

I treated Julian as my entire world, managing everything for him.

I became his shadow, anticipating his every need, hoping he’d notice me.

Until—

The day I stumbled into his study, everything changed.

I found, hidden in a secret compartment in his study, sketch after sketch of Faith, poem after poem brimming with restrained passion, and countless little wooden carvings that looked just like her.

I ran my fingers over the carvings, feeling the grooves worn smooth by his touch. The poems were raw, aching with a longing I’d never seen from him.

The paintings and poems were too many to count.

It was a shrine to Faith, hidden in plain sight.

The carvings were smooth to the touch, clearly cherished and handled every day.

Each one was different, but all bore the same careful attention.

I could almost see that pale-suited vampire pouring out his heart to the carving, his eyes full of a tenderness and madness I’d never seen before.

It was a side of him I never knew—one that had nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with me.

Creak—

The door opened behind me, slow and deliberate. My heart pounded in my chest.

I froze, clutching one of the carvings to my chest. Clutching.

“So my wife has found out. What am I to do now?”

His voice was calm, almost amused. I could hear the finality in it.

The day I was locked up, I screamed curses at Julian and Faith.

I hurled every insult I could think of, my voice raw with fury and heartbreak.

Faith just stood there, looking at me, her eyes full of reluctant pity.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue.

“Ma’am, whether you believe it or not, I never wanted to compete with you for anything.”

Her voice was quiet, almost mournful.

“Bitch—”

The word was out before I could stop it. My anger swallowed everything else.

Slap!

The sound echoed in the study, sharp and final.

Julian hit me across the face.

The shock of it stunned me into silence.

I spat out blood on the spot, even lost a tooth—utterly humiliated.

The taste of blood filled my mouth, hot tears stinging my eyes.

Julian covered Faith’s eyes. “Don’t look. It’s ugly.”

He turned her away, as if shielding her from my shame.

Now, Julian stood before me again.

The years fell away, but the pain remained.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

In a way, it was. I was no longer the girl he could break so easily.

But my resentment hadn’t faded a bit.

It burned in my chest, a quiet, steady flame.

I hid my clenched fists in my sleeves and looked away, expressionless.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattle.

Julian seemed to want to say something.

He hesitated, searching my face for a sign of weakness.

Just then, Lily Ann came running over, waving two caramel apples. “Miss, Miss!”

Her voice was a welcome distraction, sweet and sticky as the treats she carried.

Faith still moved at her usual unhurried pace.

She took her time, never rushing, as if the world would wait for her.

I took the caramel apple from Lily Ann and glanced at Faith.

The caramel was still warm, sticking to my fingers. I caught Faith’s eye, searching for any hint of guilt or remorse.

I caught her and Julian exchanging furtive looks.

Their eyes met for just a second, but it was enough. I felt like an intruder in my own life.

Julian was undeniably attractive.

Even I couldn’t deny it. The girls in town swooned over him, and Faith wasn’t immune.

Even the aloof Faith couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him.

She tried to hide it, but I saw the way her cheeks flushed.

If what that preacher said was true…

How could I ever compete with her?

If I turned on her now, would my fate be even worse than in my past three lives?

I weighed my options, fear and anger warring inside me.

Thinking this, I forced myself to stay calm.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I couldn’t let them see me crack.

At some point, Julian had torn his gaze from Faith.

He looked at me, but I knew his mind was elsewhere.

There was a hint of longing in Faith’s eyes.

She watched him go, her expression softening for just a moment.

Julian started walking toward me.

I stiffened, every muscle tensing in anticipation.

A chill ran down my spine.

I forced myself to stand tall, refusing to shrink away.

I pretended not to see him and hurried away.

I grabbed Lily Ann’s arm, dragging her with me, desperate for an escape.

Lily Ann, oblivious, called after me, “Miss, why are you running so fast?”

She stumbled to keep up, caramel apple swinging wildly.

“Miss McAllister, I, Julian, have something to discuss with you.”

His voice was smooth, practiced, but I heard the urgency underneath.

I replied, “It’s not proper for us to meet alone. If you have business, Senator Price, speak to my father.”

I kept my tone formal, putting as much distance between us as I could.

Julian was momentarily surprised—after all, I’d never treated him this way before.

His mask slipped, just for a second.

Now, I was clearly avoiding him like the plague.

I didn’t care if the whole town noticed. Let them talk.

Though I hid my disgust well, someone as sensitive as Julian couldn’t miss it.

He studied me, eyes narrowing, trying to figure out what had changed.

His calm smile froze for a second.

He recovered quickly, but I saw the crack.

“I only wanted to return the handkerchief you dropped last time.”

He held it out, the embroidered initials catching the light.

I glanced at it—sure enough, it was mine.

The stitches were crooked, the color faded. I remembered making it on a rainy afternoon, my fingers pricked raw.

But I had no idea when I’d lost it.

Had he kept it all this time, waiting for the right moment to return it? Or was it just another move in his game?

I didn’t want to leave anything of mine with him, didn’t want any connection at all.

I felt like every thread tied me to a past I wanted to forget.

Without thinking, I snatched it back, said “Thank you,” and hurried into the car for the ride home.

I didn’t look back, didn’t give him a chance to say more.

As the car started moving, I finally relaxed a little.

The low hum of the engine and the scent of leather and dust were oddly comforting.

I glanced back—Julian was still standing there, watching me leave.

He looked almost lonely, framed by the golden afternoon light. But I wasn’t falling for it again.

He really knew how to put on a show.

If there were an award for heartbreak, he’d win it every time.

If I didn’t have my memories from a past life, I might have fallen for it again.

But this time, I knew better.