The Crippled Alpha's Secret Reborn Mate

Ariel POV:

The night air was cool against my skin, a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the ballroom. White gravel crunched under my satin slippers as I walked the moonlit path, each step carrying me further from the gilded cage and deeper into the heart of the conspiracy.

My mind was a whirlwind of memories, but the panic was gone, replaced by a chilling clarity.

This trap wasn't just about destroying me. It was a move in a larger game, a power play between the Blackwood brothers. Hamilton wanted to forcibly mate with me, believing my connection to the Sullivan family would give him leverage against his brother, Brody.

And April... my dear stepsister wanted to be the one to "discover" the scandal. She would rush to Brody's side, the picture of a devastated sister, and win his favor with her performance.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Their ambitions were so transparent, so pathetically predictable.

I needed a substitute. Someone to take my place on that satin-draped bed in the pavilion.

An image formed in my mind, sharp and clear. Agnes Hicks. April's old nanny, fiercely loyal and blindingly devoted. But Agnes was also greedy, with a pathetic, fawning adoration for any Alpha who so much as glanced her way. She was perfect.

I remembered from my past life that Agnes was tasked with bringing a spare wrap for April tonight. Her route would take her right down this path.

Now, I just needed a reason for her to willingly drink the same drug meant for me.

My fingers brushed against the inner seam of my gown. There. A small, hidden pocket my mother—my real mother—had insisted on sewing into all my formal dresses for "emergencies." Inside, my fingers found a small, silk packet. Dried wolfbane, ground to a fine powder. I had taken it from the kitchen stores three days ago, a precaution born from the memories of my last life. Just a pinch among the apothecary jars, easy to miss. A dead girl's insurance policy, tucked into my sleeve before the ball began.

I needed a vessel. The lemonade. I had prepared a pitcher myself before the Gala, sweetened with honey to mask any bitterness, and left it among the other beverages at the service station near the kitchen corridor. No one had questioned it. Servants were invisible, and the work of an Omega even more so.

I veered off the main path, melting into the shadows of the manicured hedges. The layout of the Blackwood estate was etched into my memory, a map of past humiliations and future battlegrounds. I moved swiftly, avoiding the occasional guard patrol with an ease that would have terrified my sixteen-year-old self.

There it was. The small table near the service wing where I had left the pitcher hours ago. The pale yellow liquid still glistened under the dim service lights. My hands were steady as I poured a glass, my movements economical and precise. I emptied the contents of the silk packet into the drink, swirling it gently until the powder dissolved completely.

With the glass in hand, I slipped back to the main path, concealing myself behind a thicket of fragrant, white rose bushes.

I didn't have to wait long.

A few minutes later, Agnes Hicks came bustling down the path, a garment bag clutched in her hand. Her face was set in its usual sour expression.

I stepped out from the shadows, letting my shoulder connect with hers. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I gasped, reaching out to steady her as if I were about to fall.

Agnes recoiled, her eyes narrowing with disdain when she saw it was me. "Watch where you're going, Omega," she snapped, her voice sharp.

I ignored her tone, forcing a look of nervous urgency onto my face. I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mrs. Hicks, I was waiting for you."

She blinked, her suspicion warring with her curiosity.

I held out the glass of lemonade. "Miss April sent this for you. She said you haven't been feeling well, and this has special herbs in it to help."

I let that sink in, then added the master stroke. "She said you need to be at your best to serve her and the future Alpha Brody."

At the mention of Brody's name, a greedy light sparked in Agnes's eyes. The prospect of being a trusted servant in a royal household was a lure she couldn't resist.

She snatched the glass from my hand. "About time she showed some appreciation," she muttered, and downed the entire drink in three long gulps.

"She's waiting for you in the Nightingale Pavilion," I lied smoothly, my gaze lowered to hide the cold triumph in my eyes. "She said she has something important to discuss with you."

Agnes, already feeling the first tendrils of the drug, puffed out her chest. She strode past me, her steps a little unsteady, heading directly for the trap.

I watched until her silhouette disappeared around a bend in the path.

The pawn was in place.

Now, I had to save Aniyah. My one true ally in a house full of enemies.