Forty-One
CHRISSY
Ashgrove House
December 23, Late Evening
I watchedthe security feeds from Henry’s cramped office in the servants’ quarters, heart hammering against my ribs. Every camera in the public rooms was live, recording in crisp 4K with crystal-clear audio. Henry had triple-checked it himself. Lucia sat beside me, silent and tense. Ben was upstairs in the master suite, waiting for his cue.
The front door burst open without a knock. Vivian swept in like she’d never left, fur coat swirling, platinum hair perfect despite the flight. She looked exactly like the poison she was.
“Where is he?” she demanded of the empty foyer. “Henry! Get out here!”
Henry appeared from the side corridor, calm as ever.
“Mrs. Stonewood. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
Vivian’s laugh was sharp enough to cut glass.
“I decided to come claim my house early. Harris told me Benjamin moved back in just to spite me, the pathetic recluse. Well, it’s almost midnight tomorrow, and he still hasn’t fulfilled that clause, has he? Everything becomes mine at twelve-oh-one Christmas morning. So, tell your scarred little master to pack his bags and get the fuck out of my house right this minute.”
Henry inclined his head, the picture of deference.
“I’ll inform the master of the house that you’ve arrived.”
He disappeared up the back stairs. On the monitor, Vivian paced, checking her reflection in the hall mirror, utterly convinced she’d already won.
Perfect. Arrogant, overconfident Vivian was exactly who we needed on tape.
Lucia squeezed my hand.
“It’s showtime, cara.”
Ben’s voice drifted down from the grand staircase, cool and controlled.
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow, Vivian.”
She looked up, smirking like a cat who’d swallowed the entire aviary.
“I figured I’d come take my victory lap early. Harris was kind enough to keep me updated, you know. You fucked things up with the girl you were planning to marry, didn’t you? Too bad, so sad, Benny-boy.”
Ben descended slowly, favoring his stitched side but never breaking eye contact with the bitch.
“How charming of you. It’s a bit tacky to gloat, though. A real lady would know better.”
Vivian crossed her arms, red nails flashing.
“I might not be a lady by your snobbish standards, but as of tomorrow, your standards won’t matter one bit. I’m the lady of this house now, thanks to that delicious little clause I convinced your sentimental fool of a father to write. I always knew you’d never settle down and get married… one way or another.”
Her smile was pure venom. She thought she’d delivered the killing blow.
I slipped out of the office, heels silent on the runner, and stepped into the foyer’s shadows just out of her direct line of sight. Ben’s gaze flicked to me for the briefest second, steady and ready to watch my plan unfold.
My pulse roared in my ears, but my voice came out smooth as silk.
“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “As it happens, I am the lady of this house as of this afternoon. And to be quite frank, I don’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to my husband.”
“You.”
