Lady Eleanora Bckwood awoke to the sound of her own screams.

  "My dy!" A flurry of maids descended upon her bed. "You're awake! Thank the heavens!"

  Eleanora blinked rapidly, her vision swimming. The familiar canopy of her four-poster bed came into focus, its deep burgundy drapes drawn back to reveal the concerned faces of her household staff. The morning light filtering through the tall windows was harsh against her eyes.

  "What..." Her voice came out as a rasp. Her throat felt raw, as though she'd been screaming for hours. "What happened?"

  The head maid, Meredith, stepped forward, wringing her hands in her apron. "You fell, my dy. From the Grand Staircase in the East Wing of the pace. The royal physician said it was a miracle you survived."

  Eleanora tried to push herself up but winced as pain shot through her body. Her limbs felt like lead, and her head pounded mercilessly.

  "How long?" she managed.

  "Three days, my dy. Your parents have been beside themselves with worry. They've only just retired to rest. And His Highness, Prince Aldric, has sent inquiries every day."

  Prince Aldric. The name echoed strangely in her mind, bringing with it a flood of memories—not just of the cold, handsome prince who was her fiancé, but of... something else. Something distant yet achingly familiar.

  "I need... water," she whispered.

  As Meredith hurried to pour a gss from the silver pitcher on the nightstand, Eleanora closed her eyes again. The memories were stronger now, surging through her mind like a river breaking through a dam.

  Her name had been Sarah Chen. She had been a thirty-two-year-old literature professor at a small university. She remembered grading papers in her cramped apartment, walking to campus in the rain, arguing passionately about character development in 19th-century novels. She remembered dying—a sudden aneurysm that struck without warning as she sat at her desk.

  And then... nothing. Until she was Eleanora, daughter of Duke and Duchess Bckwood, one of the Empire's most powerful families. She had been living as Eleanora for eighteen years now, but those memories of her past life had been locked away until this moment.

  She accepted the water gss with trembling hands. As she sipped, fshes of her life as Eleanora paraded through her mind—her tantrums when she didn't get her way, her casual cruelty to servants, her calcuted manipution of her peers, and her relentless pursuit of Prince Aldric as a prize to be won.

  The gss slipped from her fingers, spilling water across the silk sheets.

  "My dy!" Meredith excimed, rushing to dab at the spill.

  "I'm sorry," Eleanora whispered, the apology feeling foreign on her tongue. When had she ever apologized to a servant?

  Meredith froze, looking up with wide eyes. "It's nothing to worry about, my dy. Are you feeling unwell again?"

  "I'm..." Eleanora stared at her own hands, suddenly seeing them anew. These were her fingers, her body, her life—but now with a completely different perspective. "I'm not feeling quite myself."

  The maid's expression softened with concern. "The physician said confusion might follow such a severe fall. Shall I fetch him?"

  "No," Eleanora said quickly. "No, I just need... time."

  Time to understand what was happening to her. Her memories as Sarah cshed violently with her life as Eleanora. The privileged, pampered girl who had never heard the word "no" was still her, but viewed through the lens of a past life that held very different values.

  How could she have behaved so entitled, so cruel? The thought of how she had been made her stomach turn. The emerald ring on her left hand caught the morning light, sparkling accusingly. Her engagement ring. The symbol of her greatest manipution.

  "Meredith," she asked quietly, "did you say Prince Aldric has been inquiring about my condition?"

  "Yes, my dy. Every day. Though... forgive me for saying, but it seemed more duty than concern. You know how His Highness can be."

  She didn't, not really. She had never cared to know him as a person. Prince Aldric had been nothing more than a trophy, a way to elevate her family's already considerable status. She had schemed and maneuvered her way into an engagement with a man she had never bothered to understand.

  Shame washed over her like a physical weight. What kind of person had she been?

  "The Duke and Duchess left instructions to notify them the moment you woke," Meredith said, breaking into her thoughts. "Shall I send for them now?"

  "Yes," Eleanora replied automatically, then hesitated. "No—wait. I need... I need a moment to collect myself first."

  How could she face her parents? She remembered now, with Sarah's critical perspective, how they had indulged her every whim. Their doting had created the monster she had become. Would they even recognize the turmoil now raging within her? Would they care that their daughter's soul now felt split in two?

  "Please, just a little time alone," she whispered.

  Meredith nodded, clearly confused but unwilling to question her mistress. "Of course, my dy. I'll be just outside if you need anything." She gestured for the other maids to follow her, and they filed out quietly, leaving Eleanora alone with her fractured identity.

  She looked around the room—her room. The opulent furnishings, the expensive silk hangings, the jewels casually scattered across her dressing table. All of it represented a life of unearned privilege, taken for granted by a girl who had never known want or struggle.

  Carefully, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the sharp pains that shot through her body. She had to see herself, to confront the person she now was with this dual perspective.

  The ornate mirror on her dressing table reflected a face both familiar and new. Her features—high cheekbones, porcein skin, wide hazel eyes framed by dark shes. Beautiful by any standard, yet she now saw them with new understanding. These same lips had spoken cruel words, these same eyes had narrowed in calcution.

  "Who am I now?" she whispered to her reflection. Part Sarah, part Eleanora—a fusion of two lives, two consciousnesses, in one body.

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Before she could respond, it swung open to reveal the Duke and Duchess Bckwood, both still in their dressing gowns despite the te morning hour.

  "Eleanora!" Her mother rushed to the bedside, gathering her into a careful embrace. "My darling, we've been so worried."

  Her father stood at the foot of the bed, his usually composed face marked with fatigue. "The physician wasn't certain when you would wake. How do you feel?"

  "I don't know," Eleanora answered honestly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. Looking at her parents now, she saw them with fresh eyes—not just as the indulgent Duke and Duchess, but as people whose overprotection and privilege had allowed her worst qualities to flourish.

  Her mother pulled back, studying her face with concern. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

  "I mean..." Eleanora struggled to find words that wouldn't sound like madness. "The fall has left me... confused. Like I'm seeing everything differently now. Including myself."

  Her parents exchanged worried gnces.

  "The physician did warn there might be some temporary confusion after such an injury," her father said carefully. "What's the st thing you remember?"

  Eleanora frowned, sorting through the tangle of memories—both Eleanora's and Sarah's. "Walking down the staircase after the Emperor's banquet. After that... nothing until now."

  "Well, it doesn't matter now," her father said dismissively. "What matters is that you're awake and will recover. We've already informed the pace. Prince Aldric may call ter today, now that you're conscious."

  The thought of facing Aldric sent a jolt of panic through her. How would she even begin to interact with him? The cold, distant man she'd chased so relentlessly, caring nothing for his feelings or circumstances?

  "I don't think I'm well enough for visitors," she said quickly.

  Her mother's brow furrowed. "But darling, it would be discourteous to refuse the Crown Prince. Especially after all your efforts to secure his attention."

  All your efforts. The words stung with their accuracy. She had pursued him like a hunter after prized game, using every advantage at her disposal.

  "Mother, Father," she began slowly, "I need time. I don't... I don't feel like myself."

  "Of course you don't, dear," her mother soothed, patting her hand. "You've had a terrible accident. We'll tell the pace you're still recovering and not ready for visitors. But," she added with a meaningful look, "you must be careful not to neglect your fiancé for too long. The engagement is still new, and we wouldn't want any... misunderstandings."

  The warning was clear enough. The engagement to Prince Aldric was the culmination of years of political maneuvering by her family. They would not look kindly on anything that threatened it.

  "I understand," she said quietly, though she was still processing everything. The political machinations that had consumed her life as Eleanora now seemed hollow when viewed through the lens of her past life as Sarah.

  As her parents continued discussing her recovery and the upcoming social obligations she would need to postpone, Eleanora retreated into her thoughts. Who was she now with these dual perspectives? She carried both Sarah's academic values and peaceful life, alongside Eleanora's aristocratic upbringing and social ambitions. Neither identity fully described her anymore.

  She touched the engagement ring on her finger, a weight that suddenly held new meaning. What would she do with this life now that she saw it through different eyes? This body, these parents, this fiancé, this tangle of obligations and expectations?

  She had no answers, only questions spinning in her mind like leaves caught in a whirlwind. For now, all she knew was that she could never go back to being the person she had been before the fall.

  Whether that was blessing or curse remained to be seen.