Chapter 424
[ 544 words ]
Chapter 424:
At that moment, the door creaked open, revealing Harper and Cornelia. They were Jarrod’s cousins, the daughters of his late uncle, who had lived on the estate since Jarrod’s departure. They had long operated under the assumption that the Romero legacy—and the estate—would eventually fall to them, treating any woman Jarrod brought into his life as a transient interloper to be neutralized.
They stopped short, taking in the scene: Caroline, sitting comfortably in the General’s study, sharing a moment of quiet understanding with the patriarch—the very seat of authority they had spent months trying to manipulate.
The polite masks they wore in the presence of the General froze, then curdled into expressions of pure, unadulterated venom. They had clearly heard the General’s praise, and it was a direct threat to the fragile foothold they had secured in the house.
Harper and Cornelia glided into the room, their faces arranged in masks of concerned sympathy.
“Caroline, darling,” Harper cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “What a surprise to see you here. We thought you’d still be resting at home.”
Caroline met her gaze, her own expression calm and unreadable. “Thank you for your concern, Harper. But life has to go on.”
𝘔𝗼st 𝗋𝖾𝖺d 𝗍𝗁i𝘴 𝘄e𝘦𝘬 𝗼n galn𝗼𝘷𝘦𝗅𝗌.𝗰𝗈𝗺
Her simple, direct response left no room for Harper’s intended barbs. It was like throwing a punch and hitting solid steel.
The General, sensing the shift in atmosphere, spoke without looking up from his papers. “Caroline is part of this family now. She is welcome here anytime she pleases.”
The statement was a quiet declaration of war. It was a shield for Caroline and a clear warning to the other two women.
Harper’s smile tightened at the edges. Cornelia, ever the master of social camouflage, simply offered a serene, knowing smile, as if the General’s words were of no consequence.
Caroline didn’t linger. She had accomplished what she came for. She politely excused herself, thanking the General and Alistair for their time. She had shown her strength, and she had shown that she would not be drawn into their petty games.
After she was gone, the General grunted that he was tired and retreated back into the depths of his study, leaving the two women alone in the cavernous living room.
The moment they were alone, Harper’s mask of civility shattered. Her face twisted into a snarl of pure rage.
“Mother, did you see that?” she hissed, her voice a low, venomous whisper. “The way Father looked at her? It was like he was looking at a younger version of you!”
The comparison was meant to be the ultimate insult, a suggestion that Cornelia’s power, her position, was being threatened by a younger, stronger replacement.
A cold, dangerous light entered Cornelia’s eyes. “She is just like that insufferable man who raised her,” she said, her voice tight. “Just like Walter Thompson.”
The name was a lit match thrown on gasoline.
“Insufferable?” Harper spat, her eyes blazing with a wild, uncontrolled fury. “I wish I’d hit him harder! I wish I’d been the one to run him off the road myself!”
The words, born of pure rage, hung in the air. A confession. An admission of a crime no one had known was committed.
Cornelia’s face went rigid. She moved with lightning speed, her hand shooting out to grab Harper’s wrist, her nails digging into the flesh.
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