Grace’s shrill voice echoed through the mansion halls, each word seemingly dipped in poison. “Where is that gold–digging bitch Sophia? Get out here, you worthless tramp!”
I froze mid–step, my hand instinctively gripping the kitchen doorframe. Ever since her punishment after our last encounter, Grace had been plotting ber revenge. Hearing I’d returned to Maple Grove must have been the perfect opportunity to unleash her pent–up rage.
Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she stormed through the foyer, her face contorted in fury while she searched for me. I squared my shoulders and entered the kitchen, deliberately ignoring her tirade as I picked up a cooking spatula and began examining the refrigerator contents.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Grace screamed, her face flushed with anger.
I cast her an icy glance, my voice perfectly level. “What’s that stray dog barking about? Someone should teach it some manners.”
Grace’s eyes widened in disbelief. Without warning, she lunged forward, her hand raised to deliver a slap. I blocked the blow with the metal spatula, the sound of flesh hitting steel echoing in the kitchen.
“You bitch!” she hissed, nursing her stinging hand. “What kind of spell have you cast on my father? Why does he listen to everything you say?”
I continued preparing dinner, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me rattled. She wanted to see me panicked, but I wouldn’t give her that pleasure. “I don’t cast spells, Grace. I simply treat people with respect–which is precisely what you never learned to do.”
“You worthless slut!” Grace screamed, her voice rising to a pitch that made the kitchen staff flinch. “How dare you hit me! I’m telling Henry! He’ll beat you senseless for this!”
Without warning, she aimed a kick at my legs. I sidestepped her attack, nearly laughing at her clumsiness.
“Are you sure you want to continue this?” I asked coolly, “Have you forgotten about those photos I have? The ones of you and your… interesting companion checking into that hotel? I wonder what your father would think about his precious daughter’s taste in men.”
Grace’s face drained of color. Those photos weren’t actually mine–Betty had taken them while arranging accommodations for a client. She’d happened to spot Grace passionately kissing some young punk with ridiculous hair before heading upstairs together. Betty, tired of watching Grace torment me for years, had immediately sent me the pictures as potential leverage.
“You… you wouldn’t dare!” Grace sputtered, her confidence faltering.
I hadn’t planned to use those photos against her, but her constant provocations left me no choice. “Try me,‘ I challenged.
Something in my tone must have frightened her, because what happened next was completely unexpected. Grace lunged toward the knife block, grabbing a large chef’s knife and pointing it directly at me.
“Give me those photos,” she demanded, her voice suddenly low and dangerous. “Give them to me now!”
The scene before me was shocking. I took several steps back, my heart pounding. “Grace, put the knife down.”
“GIVE ME THE PHOTOS!” she screamed, advancing toward me with the blade extended.
The kitchen staff scattered in panic, none daring to intervene with the young mistress brandishing a weapon. I continued backing away, trying to maintain a safe distance.
I understood her resentment–she’d been the pampered princess, adored by everyone until I arrived. Suddenly her father and grandfath for me, praising my gentleness while criticizing her arrogance.
owed preference
“Everyone loves you so much,” Grace spat, gesturing wildly with the knife. “Poor, sweet Sophia–so understanding, so well–mannered! They’ve all tr blinded by you. You’re nothing but a gold–digger who trapped my brother!”
I retreated toward the staircase, desperately trying to keep distance between us.
“Grace, please. We can talk about this. Just put the knife down.”
Chapter 123
‘And now even Henry is falling for your act!” she continued, her eyes wild with jealousy.
She lunged forward again, forcing me up the stairs. The servants huddled at the bottom, too afraid to help.
“Where are you running to? Grace taunted, following me up the stairs. “My brother doesn’t even like you! You’ve been throwing yourself at him for years. and what has it gotten you? He has never loved you!”
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