Chapter 343
“Ninth, Uncle Harrison, I—”
Shirley’s voice trembled; the man’s presence had clearly shaken her, but she still refused to give in. Why shouldn’t she speak to Anastasia this way? After all, she was Harrison’s most favored niece and Aaron’s fiancée! No matter what, could Anastasia really outrank her?
But just as she was about to protest, a sudden jolt of realization struck her. She remembered, with chilling clarity, that when she’d mocked Anastasia earlier, one of Anastasia’s friends had spoken up, boldly claiming Anastasia’s “benefactor” was actually her legal husband.
Shirley’s expression froze.
Could it… could it actually be true?
Anastasia caught the flicker of panic and confusion on Shirley’s face, and her mood soared. She smiled, turned to Harrison, and said lightly, “Darling, I don’t think she has the right to call you Uncle Harrison. What do you think?”
Of course Harrison knew she was being deliberately provocative. Normally, nothing irritated him more than people who tried to use his name for their own gain. But when it came to his young wife, he only found her antics endearing.
A rare softness touched his otherwise severe features as he reached up to gently stroke the back of her neck. “Naturally, whatever you say goes.”
Shirley’s head snapped up in disbelief, her gaze locking onto Harrison.
Even though she’d begun to suspect Anastasia’s true identity, she’d clung to a final sliver of hope. This was Harrison Lancaster, after all—everyone in Riverton knew he had no patience for presumptuous women, especially those who dared meddle in his affairs.
Yet here was Anastasia, openly flaunting his affection, the very kind of behavior Harrison was said to despise. Why wasn’t he furious? Why, instead, did he seem to indulge her?
She blurted out, “Uncle Harrison-”
“Ms. West!” Anastasia cut her off sharply. She met Shirley’s stunned gaze, chin lifted in defiance. “Did you not hear what my husband just said? Please don’t pretend you’re family, and stop calling him that. Otherwise, I won’t be happy!”
Harrison looked on, utterly charmed by his wife’s audacity.
An uneasy silence descended over the room. Moments earlier, people had been fawning over Shirley, envious of her supposed connection to Harrison Lancaster. Now, those same people regarded her with thinly veiled amusement.
Hadn’t Shirley always boasted about how close she and Mr. Lancaster were? She’d acted as though they shared some special bond. But now it was clear-he didn’t even acknowledge her, much less her so-called “Uncle Harrison.”
The humiliation was unbearable. Shirley could feel the stares pressing in from all directions, her face burning as she clenched her fists, nearly tearing the fabric of her dress in her grip.
And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse-
“Is Anastasia here?!”
A harsh voice rang out from the entrance. A stern-looking woman, dressed in a tailored suit and unmistakably a housekeeper, strode in with seven or eight bodyguards in tow, her expression thunderous.
Shirley’s face drained of color.
That “housekeeper” was the very woman Helen had hired to stir up trouble. The plan had been to invite Harrison’s mysterious wife to the party, hoping she would show up in person and put Anastasia in her place—crush her so thoroughly she’d
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But the mysterious Mrs. Lancaster had never answered any calls, and now Shirley understood why. If Anastasia was, in fact, the real Mrs. Lancaster, then they’d already invited her. How could Harrison’s wife show up twice?