ODETTE/OPHELIA'S POV
The Medici Mansion is the epitome of Mediterranean style—spacious, bathed in soft light, with wide windows that frame the sea.
Terracotta tiles line the rooftop. The living room boasts five massive arched windows that offer a direct, breathtaking view of the ocean.
A garden connects seamlessly to the indoor space through a large door to the south.
There are ten maids here, all tanned and smiling as if this isn't the home of Italy's most powerful crime family.
The walls are covered in photographs—family pictures on beaches, camping trips, birthdays, yacht parties.
My eyes trace the smiles. The three Medici men. Sarah, before she went missing at age six. Azriel's wife—the mother of Gabriel, Michael, and Sarah.
I haven't met Mrs. Medici yet, but she's stunning and Sarah is her mirror image.
My chest tightens.
I never had a single family picture in my past life.
Neither did Ophelia.
For both of us, family was something we only ever admired from afar.
The Medici intelligence reports claim Daddy and Kayros have "gone crazy" because of me. I refuse to believe it.
Kayros must be using me as an excuse to attack Black Widow and shake their foundation. Gang wars between the major families are always avoided—there are too many risks with strong reason.
So, my suspected kidnapping is good enough reason to start a gang war and have an edge with smaller mobs.
He doesn't even like me. And he hates the real Ophelia.
As for Daddy… I doubt he cares enough about his youngest child. Ophelia spent her entire life being abandoned, rejected, tossed aside by the Blackwoods. He always favored Jessica. No way would he harm her over my disappearance.
Maybe the government has been pressuring Blackwood, and Daddy is using my disappearance as a pretext to show them not to mess with him.
My shoulders slump with exhaustion. This kidnapping wasn't part of my plan, but at least my quick thinking saved me from being locked in a bedroom.
I push open the heavy wooden door to the library. My eyes widen.
The space is vast, lined with arched bookshelves that stretch toward the ceiling. It's immaculate. A few armchairs and small round coffee tables are arranged thoughtfully around the room.
My breathing sounds too loud in the silence.
An elderly man sits at a long table near the entrance—the librarian, I assume. He smiles as I approach. "How may I help you, miss?"
I blink, my fingers itching to touch the spines of the books. I've always been a sucker for a good library.
"Are there… novels?" I press my lips together, wondering if my request will sound absurd here. "Romance novels."
The old man doesn't even flinch. He chuckles and nods. "Yes. Madam Medici has an excellent collection. Follow me."
That surprises me. Mrs. Medici reads romance.
The library has its own scent—aged paper, leather, quiet history. Each shelf is dedicated to a topic. I look up. There's a second floor with even more shelves.
If I weren't a hostage, I could live here.
The librarian stops before a large, beautifully organized shelf. Books are arranged alphabetically, many in limited edition covers. My eyes sparkle.
"Just don't fold the pages," he says gently. "Madam dislikes that. Enjoy."
He walks away, leaving me in peaceful solitude.
My lips twitch into a smile as my fingers trace the spines. And then… something catches my eye.
Everything stops.
My heart drops. My blood runs cold. My head rings.
I blink rapidly, as if I can change what I'm seeing. But it doesn't change.
My fingers tremble as I pull the book from the shelf. My throat goes dry. A cold sweat breaks out across my back.
My thumb traces the title.
Eyes of Glacier.
Goosebumps erupt all over my skin. What is this doing here?
I sink into a nearby chair, my spine refusing to stay straight. My legs shake violently as I open the book.
I turn directly to the last page. I remember the original ending like scripture—it was the last thing I read before falling asleep and waking up as Ophelia.
-At the end, Ophelia's life came to an end with the dagger stabbed into her heart by the two people she considered her chosen family. Lying in a pool of her own blood, she sought justice from a heaven she had never begged to before.
But did heaven answer the plea of a sinner whose hands were stained with the blood of two hundred souls?-
It was a chilling, divisive ending. The book community was torn—some called her tragic, some called her a victim, some didn't care.
But this book… this version… the ending is different.
I sit up straight, disbelief and confusion knotting in my stomach.
-Kayros hugs his son and Ophelia at gunpoint, shielding them from Vincent and his men as if his body alone could stop the bullets.
Ophelia realizes it too late.
She should have trusted him. She should have believed him when he pleaded for her trust. Kayros looks at Ophelia as bullets tear through flesh. His tears fall, and with his last breath, he whispers:
"It has always been you. Since day one. You should have trusted me."
Ophelia feels his body go limp, still holding her and their son, Elias. Her own strength fails. She can only whisper, staring into the blood-streaked face of the husband she failed:
"I should have taken my revenge… and protected you." Her trembling hand rests on his cheek. She coughs blood, her eyes closing. "I'm sorry… You died because of me…"-
It feels like my chest has been ripped open and my heart smashed with a hammer.
I can't breathe. I open my mouth to scream, but only a choked sound escapes. A splitting headache erupts, followed by a pain so deep and bodily that I slide from the chair to the floor.
My vision blurs. Flashes of memory—memories that aren't mine, yet feel agonizingly familiar—assault my mind.
A guilt so heavy it's like a mountain on my shoulders. A bitterness so acute I wish for death just to make it stop.
The old librarian sees me and shouts for help.
The book slips from my hand.
And then… I watch it vanish. Right before my eyes. The air trembles faintly, and it's simply gone.
"OPHELIA!"
Azriel's voice cuts through the haze. He scoops me off the floor. I'm barely breathing, barely thinking. Tears won't stop. Pain riots in my chest.
This is ridiculous.
Books don't vanish. Stories don't change under the same title.
Azriel is running, cradling me against his chest. My body is limp, heavy.
As darkness swallows me, one thought echoes in the silent chamber of my mind:
Why?
In this version of Eyes of Glacier… Ophelia was loved. Wanted. Protected. And yet she still became the reason Kayros died.
And they had a son.
A child.
Ophelia and Kayros's child.
Elias.