Anastasia's eyelids fluttered open slowly, heavy and reluctant.
The first thing she felt was weakness — a deep, bone-deep exhaustion that made even lifting her head feel impossible. She was lying in her own bed, the familiar silk sheets pulled up to her chest. The room was dim, curtains drawn, and several figures moved quietly around her: two healers in their distinctive robes and three maids hovering nearby, their faces pale with worry.
Her body felt like lead. Every breath was shallow, every heartbeat a dull, painful thud in her chest.
One of the healers — an older man with a calm, professional demeanor — noticed she was awake and stepped closer.
"Lady Anastasia, please stay calm," he said gently but firmly. "You had a heart attack. It was brought on by extreme stress. Your body is very weak right now. You must rest. Do not try to get up."
Anastasia's throat felt dry. She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.
"How... how long was I unconscious?"
A maid — the same one who had rushed to her earlier — answered softly, "Two hours, my lady. We brought you here as quickly as we could. The doctor has been with you the whole time."
Anastasia closed her eyes for a moment, shame flooding through her like poison. She had caused a scene. A terrible, humiliating scene. People had seen her break down, screaming, bleeding, collapsing in a destroyed room. The thought of the servants whispering about it, of the news spreading through the mansion, made her want to disappear.
The worst part was that people had seen her like this — weak, broken, pathetic.
She tried to sit up, but her arms gave out immediately. The healer gently pressed her back down.
"Please, my lady. Rest. Everything is under control."
Anastasia turned her head weakly toward the doctor. "Thank you... for coming so quickly. I'll have the maids deal with your compensation. I... I can't handle it right now."
The doctor nodded kindly. "Of course, Lady Anastasia. Please focus only on resting. I will stay in the mansion until you are stable."
Anastasia looked at the nearest maid, her voice barely audible. "You can all leave now... I want to be alone."
The maid shook her head firmly, her eyes filled with worry. "I'm sorry, my lady, but we cannot leave you. You are in terrible condition. We will stay with you the whole time."
Anastasia wanted to argue, but she had no strength left. She simply turned her head away, facing the wall, and whispered, "Thank you... but please... don't look."
The maids exchanged glances but respected her wish, turning slightly away while still staying close enough to help if needed.
Alone in her thoughts, Anastasia finally let the tears come.
She cried silently into the pillow, shoulders shaking with quiet, broken sobs. The pain in her chest was still there — not just the physical ache from the heart attack, but the deeper, crushing pain of everything that had happened.
Anastasia's hand clutched the sheet weakly as the tears flowed freely.
She felt small. She felt broken. She felt terrified that she was losing the only person who had ever truly mattered to her.
The maids stayed close, silent and watchful, as their mistress cried herself into an exhausted, uneasy sleep once more.
Anastasia lay in her bed, the heavy blankets pulled up to her chin, her body feeling like it was made of lead. The healers had done what they could — bandaged her bleeding hands, given her medicine for the heart attack, and ordered complete rest. The maids hovered nearby, silent and watchful, one of them gently dabbing a cool cloth on her forehead.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her mind.
What am I supposed to do now?
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow as she turned her face away from the maids. She didn't want them to see her like this — weak, broken, crying like a child.
She had never wanted this outcome.
She had wanted to be the only one Julius truly loved. The one he would think of even after her death. The one whose memory would stay with him forever, warm and irreplaceable. That was why she had chosen Rem — to be her replacement, her perfect successor, the woman who would carry Julius's child and take care of him when Anastasia could no longer do it herself.
But Rem wasn't cooperating the way she was supposed to.
If Rem is going to be herself... that proud, stubborn bitch... she's going to take Julius away from me. Erase me completely. Take my place in his heart.
The thought made her sob harder into the pillow, her shoulders shaking with quiet, broken cries. She felt so weak. So stupid. So powerless.
Rem was the worst choice I ever made. Her proud and stubborn character ruined everything. She's thankless. And now she's attracted to Julius... she's a homewrecker doing it on purpose. She wants my death.
Anastasia's mind spiraled deeper into darkness.
If there was another girl in Rem's place — someone like Yae — they would love to give themselves to Julius. They would be grateful. They would submit. They would understand their role.
She cried harder, the tears coming in silent, painful waves. The maids exchanged worried glances but respected her wish for privacy, turning slightly away while staying close enough to help if needed.
Anastasia clutched the blanket tighter, her bandaged hands aching, but the pain in her heart was far worse.
Rem... you were supposed to be my solution. My gift to Julius. My way of staying with him even after I'm gone.
Instead, she had become a threat.
A rival.
A woman who might take everything Anastasia had built and claim it as her own.
Anastasia buried her face deeper into the pillow, muffling her sobs as best she could.
The room remained quiet except for her soft, broken crying and the occasional whisper of the maids checking on her.
She was too weak to do anything right now.
But in her heart, the fire of jealousy and determination still burned.
Anastasia clutched the blanket tighter, her bandaged hands aching, but the pain in her heart was far worse.
She remembered her childhood too clearly — the cold streets of Banan in Kararagi, the hunger that never left, the fear that followed her everywhere. She had been an orphan since she could remember, living in the slums, begging for scraps, hiding from those who would sell her into slavery. No one had helped her. No one had cared.
She remembered the day she tried to save two fox-human siblings from slavers. She had been only a child herself, barely ten years old, and nearly ended up captured too. That was when Ricardo had appeared — the large tiger-man slave who had killed the thugs and saved her. He had given her a chance, introduced her to work in a bar, and later helped her get noticed by the Chuden Company. She had never properly thanked him. She had just used the opportunity to climb higher, building her empire, renaming it the Hoshin Company after herself.
She remembered her friends and allies who helped her rise — the ones who taught her business, the ones who stood by her as she expanded. Thanks to them, she had stood in the royal capital as a candidate for the throne. A girl from the slums, an orphan with nothing, had reached that height.
And then she had met Julius — her knight. The man who had won her stubborn heart with his honor, his patience, his unwavering support. Even when she was difficult, even when she was greedy and ambitious, he had been there for her.
And like always... she had fucked it up.
She had wanted more. She had wanted to make him happy in the way she thought he deserved — a family, children. Since she couldn't give him those things herself, she had tried to give him Rem.
Now it was all falling apart.
Anastasia buried her face deeper into the pillow, muffling her sobs as best she could.
If I say sorry... if I beg for forgiveness... will Julius stay with me?
The thought was humiliating. She, Anastasia Hoshin, the Greedy Princess, begging like the street orphan she once was. But if he left... she would be alone again. And that was something she could not experience again. Not after everything she had built.
She wished she could turn back time. Never bring Rem into their lives. Never push Julius toward her. Never create this nightmare.
But she couldn't.
The maids stayed close, silent and watchful, as their mistress cried herself into an exhausted, uneasy sleep once more.
The mansion continued its quiet routine around her, but for Anastasia, the world had never felt so heavy.