The Mirror of Soul The Girl in the Gilded Cage

[Sterling Estate — The Night of the Gala]

The grand Sterling Estate shimmered beneath a canopy of crystal chandeliers and imported moonlight. Every inch of the place glowed with untouchable perfection

A hundred guests filled the ballroom, dressed in black-tie elegance, their conversations laced with false charm and veiled power plays.

At the top of the marble staircase, Aurora Sterling appeared — a vision in deep sapphire silk that clung to her like liquid midnight. The diamond necklace around her neck sparkled like a shackle.

But it wasn’t the dress or the jewels that drew eyes; it was the storm in her gaze

Samaira Sterling FL

(to herself, under her breath) Another night in this perfect prison. Another performance in a world I didn’t choose.

Vivienne Sterling’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

Vivienne Sterling fl mom

Samaira. Smile. The entire city is watching.

Samaira forced a hollow smile and descended the staircase, the weight of her mother’s expectations pressing on every step.

Samaira Sterling FL

(Coldly) Tell them to keep watching, Mom. Maybe they’ll catch the moment I finally vanish.

Vivienne’s lips tightened.

Vivienne Sterling fl mom

You’ll do no such thing. You have an image to uphold. You’re a Sterling.

Samaira Sterling FL

“I’m a prisoner.”

Ethan Vale appeared at Vivienne’s side, smug in his custom-tailored tuxedo. He reached for Samaira’s hand, pressing a cold kiss to her knuckles.

Ethan vale fl fiancé

You look stunning, darling. I trust you’ll behave tonight?

Samaira Sterling FL

Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you, fiancé.

But her eyes were already searching for the nearest escape.

...

[Later — In the Garden]

She slipped away beneath the cover of polite conversation, out into the moonlit garden, barefoot now, the dewy grass soft beneath her feet.

Samaira Sterling FL

(softly) I can’t breathe in there…

Across the iron fence, the city stretched out — glittering, alive, messy, real. And there, beyond the neatly trimmed hedges and security guards, stood a tiny, old bookshop — Hart & Cross — its crooked sign flickering in the distance.

Drawn by the promise of something unscripted, she climbed the side gate, laughing breathlessly as she landed on the other side, her dress catching on the fence, leaving a trail of sapphire silk behind.

Samaira Sterling FL

(to herself) Well, Samaira Sterling… this is either madness or freedom.

...

[Inside the Bookshop — Hart & Cross]

Gilbert was stacking books in the quiet shop, the scent of old pages and ink filling the air. The world outside — glittering galas and endless glass towers — meant nothing here.

Noah Hart popped his head in from the back.