Chapter 3

The rest of what he said, I couldn't make out.

There was only a buzzing in my ears.

The drink in my glass sloshed over the back of my hand, cold enough to bite.

My best friend was so furious she nearly charged over there, but I caught her arm and held her back.

I shook my head.

"There's no point. I've already decided to break up with him."

Back then, to marry him, I'd put off going abroad again and again.

Now, looking at it, his change of heart had done me a favor.

I pulled out my phone, opened the acceptance email from the school overseas, and wrote back:

"Hello, I confirm my enrollment. I'll have all the paperwork done within a week and report to campus."

The message sent. I set down my glass and gave my friend a small smile.

"Come on, no more drinking. I'm going home to pack."

She grabbed her bag to come with me.

"I'll take you home. I don't feel right leaving you like this."

I shook my head.

"It's fine. I just want to be alone for a while."

She looked at my pale face and didn't push it, only kept reminding me over and over.

"Then take it slow on the way, and text me the second you get home, you hear? Call me anytime if anything comes up."

I nodded and split off from her outside the bar.

The night wind carried a chill, and against my face it only made my head spin harder.

I walked slowly along the edge of the street.

By the time I got home and opened the door, it was past the middle of the night.

The living room glowed with warm yellow light.

Edgar was sitting on the sofa, Florence leaning against his shoulder.

Their heads were tipped together, the two of them scrolling through the wedding photos on his phone.

At the sound of the door, Edgar looked up, his brows knitting at once.

"Where did you go? You storm off from your own wedding, and you still know how to come back?"

Florence sat up straight, her face carrying just the right amount of apology.

"Miss Swanson, it's all because of me that you and Edgar are at odds. I'm so sorry."

"I'd meant to stay at a hotel, but Edgar said the wedding house Elliot prepared before he died still isn't finished, and it wasn't safe for me to stay somewhere alone. He insisted I come stay here for a few days."

"If it bothers you, I'll leave right now..."

She said it and reached for the bag on the sofa.

"No need."

Edgar pressed her back down and looked at me, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"The master bedroom is bigger, better light too. Florence is more or less our elder, so give the best room to her. Pack your things. We'll move into the guest room."

The old me would have argued with him, eyes red.

But now I only nodded, my voice level.

"Fine."

He froze for a second, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

He took it as me finally coming to my senses, and his expression eased a little.

"Good that you know how to behave. Florence is frail, so pay her more attention day to day and try to accommodate her."

I said nothing and turned into the master bedroom.

I opened the door, and my skincare, my clothes, my jewelry had all been arranged neatly by the doorway.

Clearly he'd had the housekeeper pack them up ahead of time.

Just like swapping out the bride.

He made it sound nice, but in truth he'd never given me a choice at all.

I gathered up my things, carried them into the guest room, and didn't come out again.

The next day I'd planned to go to the company and hand in my resignation.

I'd barely reached the living room when I heard Florence crying from the bathroom.

Edgar was very anxious.

"How did this happen? I'll call a doctor over."

I walked over.

On the skin Florence had left bare, a dense rash of red bumps had broken out.

The moment she saw me, she quickly tugged her sleeve down and choked out,

"It's fine, Edgar, don't blame Miss Swanson. I must have just been too tired yesterday, my immune system's down, that's why the allergy. It has nothing to do with the bedding..."

Saying that was as good as pinning it squarely on me.

Edgar's head snapped toward me, his eyes gone cold.

"Althea Swanson, was this you? You deliberately swapped in unwashed bedding to get back at Florence?"

I looked at his enraged face, and felt nothing at all.

"I went to sleep as soon as I finished moving my things yesterday. I never touched the bedding in the master bedroom."

"If it wasn't you, then who?"

He pressed closer with every word, his voice rising.

"Who else in this house would target her? At the wedding you humiliated her at every turn, and now you're pulling these petty, underhanded stunts. How did I never see how vicious you are?"

Florence tugged at his arm from the side.

"Edgar, don't be angry, it really has nothing to do with Miss Swanson, it's my own fault..."

"Don't you speak up for her!"

Edgar flung her hand off and pointed at the entryway.

"Get out of here! Come back when you've come to your senses."

"Otherwise, don't ever step through this door again!"