Trisentelle - Read on MistNovel

"Ouch…"

As Seris gradually regained consciousness, she felt only a splitting headache and a throbbing pain radiating through her body, as if a stampede had trampled her. She furrowed her brows at the unease, but couldn't find the strength to shrug it off.

The room was unfamiliar, too sterile, too pristine. Hotel sheets, Egyptian cotton by their feel, covered her. This was not her bedroom, not her silk coverlet with the hand-embroidered hummingbirds her mother had commissioned years ago.

She could barely make out the silhouette in the dim light filtering through blackout curtains, but she smelled the lingering trace of expensive cologne - something with bergamot and cedar, sophisticated and masculine, wafting through the air like an accusation.

Fragments flickered through her mind: a champagne flute pressed into her palm, laughter that sounded forced, Vesper's smile too wide, too knowing. Her birthday celebration at the Vale estate had started normally enough: the usual industry guests, the careful conversations about Lumenera's upcoming collections, her father's proud introductions of his "heir and visionary."

Then, nothing. A blank slate where her memory should be.

As dawn crept up, pale morning light began to pierce the curtains.

Seris suddenly opened her eyes fully. She was horrified to find herself naked beneath unfamiliar sheets, her evening gown from the night before crumpled on the marble floor like a discarded sapphire. Her jewelry - the delicate moonstone earrings she'd designed herself, the family signet ring - scattered across the nightstand, as if hastily removed.

Seris's face drained of color as fragmented memories rushed back. The bitter aftertaste of champagne. Vesper insisting she try the new vintage from their stepmother's private reserve. The room spinning, voices becoming distant echoes.

How had she ended up here?

All Seris could recall from her twenty-fifth birthday celebration was accepting congratulations from guests, discussing the heritage collection she'd been perfecting for months, and Vesper being unusually attentive - bringing her drink after drink, hovering close with that sharp smile she wore when she wanted something.

*Could her champagne have been tampered with?* The thought hit her like ice water. Seris clenched her jaw and slipped from the bed, her legs unsteady. With every ounce of composure she could muster, she pulled on her gown with trembling fingers, located her scattered jewelry, and gathered her evening clutch. She needed to get home immediately and demand answers from Vesper about what had happened.

But as she reached for her phone, her heart stopped.

A video notification glowed on the screen. The thumbnail showed her, unmistakably her, being guided into this very hotel room by a man whose face was partially obscured. The timestamp read 11:47 PM. She looked conscious in the clip, even responsive, leaning against the stranger as if... as if she wanted to be there.

But that was impossible; she remembered none of it.

With shaking hands, she opened the video. Thirty seconds of damning footage played: her apparent willingness, her hand on the man's chest, the door closing behind them. To anyone watching, it would look like a consensual encounter between adults. No one would see the gaps in her memory, the bitter taste that lingered even now, or the way her body felt foreign to her.

Seris bit back a sob and fled the hotel room, her heels clicking frantically against the marble hallway. The elevator ride down felt endless, each floor a countdown to her ruin. In the lobby, she kept her head down, praying no one would recognize the heir to Lumenera Jewelry stumbling through what felt like public humiliation.

The morning air outside was crisp with autumn's bite, but it did nothing to clear the fog in her head. As she waited for her car, she caught her reflection in the hotel's glass doors: makeup smudged, hair disheveled, her carefully curated image as Lumenera's refined heiress completely shattered.

*Someone had done this to her. Someone had orchestrated her downfall with a precision reserved for dismantling a complex setting.*

And she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who.

The drive back to the Vale estate passed in a blur of tree-lined streets and manicured lawns, each familiar landmark marking her journey toward a confrontation she wasn't ready for but couldn't avoid. Her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications; the video was already spreading through certain circles, she realized with growing horror. An anonymous source had likely uploaded it to a private industry forum, ensuring rapid dissemination. By the time she reached home, her fate would likely be sealed.

The wrought-iron gates of the Vale estate loomed ahead, the family crest worked into the metalwork: three interlocking circles representing the past, present, and future of their jewelry dynasty. Seris had always found comfort in that symbol, in the continuity it represented.

Now it felt like a judgment.

She pulled into the circular drive, gravel crunching under her tires, and saw them waiting: her father Aldric standing rigid on the front steps, Lysandra Vale beside him with her perfectly coiffed silver hair and expression of cold satisfaction, and Vesper Lysand lingering in the doorway with something that might have been concern, if Seris didn't know better.

They had the video. Of course they did. They had probably watched it together over morning coffee, dissecting her downfall with the same precision they brought to evaluating quarterly reports.

Seris turned off the engine and sat for a moment, gathering what remained of her dignity. Through the windshield, she met her father's gaze and saw something that made her chest tighten: disappointment so profound it seemed to age him in real time.

This was only the beginning. Whatever game Vesper had started with that doctored champagne and convenient video, Seris was already losing.

But she wouldn't surrender without a fight. The Vale family had built their legacy on the principle that true gems only revealed their brilliance under pressure.

It was time to discover what she was truly made of.