Chapter 2

Minnie turned and walked out looking hollowed out, as if someone had pulled the spine right out of her.

Geoffrey trailed after her. Passing me, he opened his mouth for one last jab.

But the cold in my eyes shoved it back down his throat, and all he managed was a sullen, defiant glare.

I couldn't be bothered to lift an eyelid.

A real beast never wastes a glance on the buzzing of ants.

I shut the door and went back to the study. On the desk still sat the guide I'd put together for her, A High-Society Debutante's Handbook.

One corner of the cover was stained with a coffee ring.

I flipped to the first page. There, in her own hand from the days she'd first started learning, was her motto: "Become someone Natalie can be proud of."

I snapped the book shut and dropped it straight into the trash.

She never became a true debutante.

She'd ruined herself first.

...

At eight-thirty that night, Minnie's Instagram blew up.

The headline was loud and dripping with feeling.

"Escaping a rich-family marriage — I feel like I've won the whole world!"

I'd just come out of the study after finishing the company paperwork when my phone started buzzing like it had lost its mind.

The family group chat, the friend chats, every private message — all of them screenshots of that same post.

She wrote well. Tearful, stirring, built to inflame.

"I used to think marrying into wealth was an honor. Later I learned some honors are really just chains."

"The moment I said no, I felt free for the first time in my life."

"Natalie is a good woman. She gave so much for me."

"But her generation believes in sacrifice and trade-offs. I don't want to copy her life. I don't want to become another exquisite puppet."

The last line was the real masterstroke, aimed straight at me.

"I'm no one's chess piece, and no family's bargaining chip for trading favors. I'm Minnie, and I live for myself alone."

Over twenty thousand likes. The comment section was buzzing like a holiday.

"Minnie is so brave! A role model for the modern woman!"

"Refuse family manipulation, starting with you and me! Cheers to your courage!"

"Rich family, who cares — true love is priceless! Your boyfriend must adore you!"

"Your matriarch-in-law must be losing her mind, right? Five years of effort down the drain, hahaha, serves her right!"

I stared at that "serves her right," and a chill crept across my forehead in waves.

Not that I was afraid.

I'd married into the Gilbert family as an ordinary girl and worked my way up to being the matriarch who ran the whole household. There was no storm I hadn't seen.

What made me angry was this ungrateful girl climbing up the bloody road I'd paved for her.

And halfway up, deciding the road was too dirty, and turning around to kick me in the teeth.

The door creaked open, and my mother came in.

"Not asleep yet?"

I handed her my phone. My voice came out a little hoarse.

"Look at this, Mom. I can't sleep."

She took the phone, put on her reading glasses, scanned it for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Writes well. Just not much going on upstairs."

"You can actually laugh at this?" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"What else? Should I cry along with you?" She set down a bowl of freshly stewed luxury health tonic on the desk, pulled up a chair, and sat across from me. "What's there to be angry about? She won't marry in, but the line of people who'd kill to marry into the James family would stretch from our front door to the far edge of town."

"I know that, but—"

"You don't." She rapped the desk, her eyes sharp. "You've been raising that girl like she's your own little sister, and after all this time you grew attached. Now she takes a fall and you feel the pain right along with her."

I said nothing.

Yes. I'll admit it. It did hurt.

Minnie wasn't short on talent. She learned fast, she could read a room, and when that little mouth of hers turned sweet she could coax the moon down out of the sky.

I'd genuinely believed that if she just married in and kept her feet on the ground,

within five years she wouldn't only be secure in the James family — she'd have a real shot at running half of it.

But she refused to walk the straight road. She took all that toxic nonsense off the internet and treated it as gospel.

Tool person, this. Boundaries, that. Self-awakening.

Every buzzword bigger than the last.

Those elite courses I'd enrolled her in — her absences outnumbered the classes she showed up for.

All of it spent running off to help that boyfriend of hers with his underground rock band.

My mother slowly lifted the lid off the tonic, and the aroma spread through the room.

"The backup match — who did you settle on?"

"That distant niece from our side. Aileen."

"Oh? The one from the last family dinner? The girl with the bright eyes who didn't say much but kept watching and taking it all in?"

"That's her."

"Good." My mother nodded. "That child keeps her composure and handles herself well. Good material."

I leaned back in my chair and felt the tension in my nerves loosen a little.

"Minnie still has a chance to change her mind. If she comes around before noon tomorrow, we can still slot her back into the process."

My mother lifted her eyes to me, a knowing glint in them.

"You still want to give her one last pull up?"

"I want her to give up for good." I picked up the tonic, my voice going cold.

"I want her to know she's the one who shut this door with her own hands."

"So she can't run online later and write one of her little essays about how I didn't even leave her a way to save face."

My mother stood, and on her way out she left me one line.

"Natalie, a matriarch isn't a nanny. She wants freedom, so give her freedom."

The door closed.

I picked up my phone. The screen was still lit.

Minnie was replying to people in the comments again:

"The hardest part is stepping out of your comfort zone and facing the real challenge."

"My matriarch isn't a bad person. She's just used to fitting every family member into her business blueprint."

I gave a cold little laugh.

Comfort zone?

That global limited-edition pink Bentley the James family had sent ahead — the key was still in the drawer of her nightstand.

This comfort zone. People would crawl on their knees and never make it inside.

And she found it chafing.

Fine. I'll give you what you want.