Chapter 19

Sienna's POV

The woman stared at me, her sharp eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and superiority. She was tall, elegant, and exuded confidence in a way that made me instantly uncomfortable.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

I blinked, still trying to process her presence. “I’m sorry—who are you?”

She let out a soft laugh, the kind that grated on my nerves. “I could ask you the same thing, but I already know who you are.” She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Sienna Brooks. The famous actress turned... what? Housemaid?”

I stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“Oh! I believe he hired you or something to serve me and do the chores, am I right?” She replied, sounding as natural as ever.

Well played.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I replied.

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” she said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. “When I walked in, I thought maybe you were part of the staff. But now, seeing you up close, I can see the rumors are true. You’re her.”

“Her?” I repeated, my voice sharper now.

“The woman Max has decided to play house with,” she said with a smirk. “Honestly, I expected someone... taller.”

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure. “And you are?”

“Hester,” she said simply, like her name was supposed to mean something to me.

When I didn’t react, she raised an eyebrow. “Hester Moreau. Max’s... well, let’s just say I have a long history with him.”

The words hit like a slap, but I refused to show it. “That’s nice,” I said coolly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you left.”

She laughed again, louder this time. “Left? Oh, darling, that’s adorable. Why would I leave my own house?”

“This isn’t your house,” I snapped.

Her smirk widened. “Isn’t it? Funny, I don’t remember you being here when Max and I used to spend so much time together. But I suppose things change.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. “Whatever history you have with Max doesn’t matter. You don’t belong here now.”

“Neither do you,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “But here we are.”

I stormed out of the room, my frustration boiling over. Harry was waiting by the door, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Harry,” I said sharply, “who is she, and why is she in this house?”

Harry hesitated, glancing toward the sitting room where Hester was still lounging like she owned the place. “That’s Hester Moreau, Miss Brooks. She’s... an old acquaintance of Mr. Hollandale’s.”

“Acquaintance?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said simply, avoiding my gaze.

“And you’re just going to let her stay here?” I asked, my voice rising.

“I don’t have the authority to ask her to leave,” Harry admitted.

I threw up my hands. “Of course you don’t. Why would you? This is Max’s world, and we’re all just living in it.”

Harry didn’t respond, his expression carefully neutral.

In disgust, I returned to my room and shut the door behind me. That night, I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I could hear Hester’s voice in my head, taunting me with her smug remarks. The thought of her walking around the house, making herself comfortable, made my skin crawl.

By morning, I was exhausted but determined not to let her get to me.

That resolve didn’t last long.

The first encounter happened at breakfast. I walked into the dining room, hoping for a quiet meal, only to find Hester already seated at the table, sipping coffee like she’d lived here her entire life.

“Morning,” she said brightly, as if we were old friends.

I ignored her and headed to the buffet, piling a plate with fruit and toast.

“You must be tired,” she said, her tone casual but pointed. “I heard you pacing all night. Nerves, perhaps?”

I didn’t answer, focusing on buttering my toast.

She leaned back in her chair, studying me. “You know, it’s brave of you to stay here, considering everything people are saying about you.”

I froze, my knife hovering over the toast.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I’m not judging. I just think it’s admirable how you’re handling all the rumors. Most women would’ve run off by now.”

I set the knife down, my hands trembling slightly. “I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, turning to leave.

“Of course not,” she called after me. “You must be very busy doing... whatever it is you do all day.”

The next encounter was in the library. I’d gone there to escape her, thinking it was the one place she wouldn’t bother me. I was wrong.

“Oh, I love this room,” she said as she walked in, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books. “Max and I used to spend hours in here. He has such a good eye for first editions, don’t you think?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to the bait.

She pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through it. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How life works out. You, an actress turned... well, whatever you are now. And me, still as close to Max as ever.”

I slammed the book I was reading shut and stood up. “Do you have a point, or are you just here to annoy me?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, no point. Just making conversation.”

By midday, I was at my breaking point. Every time I turned a corner, there she was, lurking like some kind of shadow.

When I found Harry in the foyer, I didn’t bother hiding my frustration.

“Harry,” I said sharply, “call Max. Now.”

Harry hesitated. “Miss Brooks—”

“I don’t care,” I interrupted. “Get him on the phone. I’m not dealing with this anymore.”

Harry nodded, pulling out his phone. “Right away, Miss Brooks.”

As I waited, I glanced toward the sitting room, where Hester was perched on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up, meeting my gaze with a smug smile.

This had to end. And it had to end now.