Octavia gritted her teeth in frustration, her grin tight with irritation. None of her plans were good enough. She needed to make Tristan see the girl—me—as a threat. Not just a petty rival, but someone dangerous enough to risk his life and his family’s future. But no matter how hard she thought, no plan seemed strong enough to break that bond.
After what felt like an eternity of pacing and brooding, her aching body finally gave up. With a huff, she stood and decided to return home. She would heal first, then continue scheming tomorrow. Maybe pain was clouding her judgment. Rest would help.
As Octavia neared her home, she straightened her back and pulled on a victorious smile. She couldn’t let Calista suspect anything had gone wrong. Her steps became deliberate, regal almost, like she had
