Ophelia Is Innocent

Ten years ago, House Eves

"Quick, bring the rouge! We must make her younger."

Ophelia blinked in confusion at the sight of the maids rushing to dress her older sister, Roselind. She could see the tremble of her elegant sister, who always wore a haughty smile on her face. Self-assured, confident that the world belonged to her. Ophelia wished that was her. Even now, her grandmother's canning from last night stung her backside. She hugged her stuffed toy tighter in fear.

"I already have enough rouge," Roselind sighed in dismay. She twisted a ring on her finger, careful to ignore the sharp ends of the diamond.

"No, make her older! Looking like a child won't stop those greedy barbarians," came the harsh voice of Matriarch Eves.