That was the single, most important fact of the entire, disastrous day. The trap had been set, the bait—Lily, her past, her tragic, fated death—had been perfectly placed. And Marissa, the "all-seeing, all-knowing" sister, had not taken it. She had not come running.
That means she wasn't reborn.
The realization was a huge, physical weight lifting from her shoulders. She stopped walking for a moment, leaning against a cold, stone wall, a slow, deep, shuddering breath of pure relief escaping her lips.
All her recent failures… the scene in the courtyard, the fight with Lorena, the poison plot… they weren't because Marissa was a fellow "reborn" person, an equal in this secret game. They were just… luck. Marissa was just a different person this time. Colder. Harder. Luckier.
