The House With Teeth

CHAPTER 9

(The House With Teeth)

Anna's hands trembled slightly as she slid folded dresses into the cavernous closet. 

Her new bedroom, which happens to be William Fairchild's bedroom, was larger than her entire room back at the Lancaster estate, yet she felt no comfort in its luxury.

The shelves stretched high, lined with polished wood and empty hangers waiting to be filled. She moved methodically.. dress after dress, skirts, stockings, shoes… anything to occupy her mind.

She didn't want her thoughts to wander and take depressing paths.

Her suitcase emptied too quickly, leaving her staring at the hollow leather case on the bed. Her chest ached. There was no trace of home in this place, no warmth. Only cold order and silence.

When the last blouse was placed neatly on the shelf. She stepped back and inspected her work and internally winced.

She thought her clothes were way too unpresentable and rag-like to be kept so close to William's finer and more expensive looking clothes.

I hope he doesn't get upset with me. Anna thought.

Anna's stomach twisted. Hunger gnawed at her… a sharp reminder she had not eaten properly since morning. Biting her lip, she smoothed her skirt and stepped quietly into the hall.

The Fairchild mansion was a maze of marble corridors and echoing ceilings. She moved carefully, her footsteps light, until the faint clatter of dishes guided her toward the kitchen.

The kitchen buzzed with quiet industry. Stainless counters gleamed, copper pots hung in neat rows. Several maids worked, moving briskly. Their chatter faltered when they saw her.

A stern-looking woman with silvering hair stepped forward, wiping her hands on her apron. Her bearing was sharp, almost military, but her eyes softened slightly as they landed on Anna.

“You must be the new Mrs. Fairchild,” she said. Her voice is firm but not unkind. “I am Mrs. Whitmore, head of staff. If you ever need anything, you'll find me here.”

Anna nodded timidly. “Thank you.. I was a little hungry.”

Before Mrs. Whitmore could respond, a maid barely older than Anna.. bright-eyed, with chestnut hair escaping her cap… hurried over with a smile.

“I'm Grace. Would you like something sweet? We just prepared a cheesecake and fresh macarons.”

Anna's lips curved faintly for the first time all day. “Yes please. That sounds lovely.”

Grace returned swiftly with a porcelain plate, setting it carefully before her. The cheesecake gleamed under a drizzle of raspberry, the macarons stacked like pastel jewels.

“Thank you Grace.”

“You're welcome, Mrs Fairchild.” she smiled broader.

But not all faces in the room were welcoming like Grace and Mrs. Whitmore's. Two other maids, Clara and Ivy, exchanged a look before muttering just loud enough for Anna to hear.

“So that's her..” Clara whispered.

“The Lancaster's shadow,” Ivy smirked, tossing her cloth onto the counter.

Heat prickles Anna's cheeks. She lowered her gaze, before taking a timid bite of cheesecake. The sweetness melted on her tongue, soothing her only for a moment.

“Anna?”

The voice was warm, lilting. Anna looked up to see Olivia sweeping into the kitchen, her blond curls bouncing behind her.

Unlike Katherine's icy glare or Helena's poisoned smirk, Olivia's expression carried genuine curiosity.

“You're here!” Olivia's face brightened as she slid onto the stool beside her. “I was hoping we'd have a moment to talk. I didn't really get to welcome you yesterday.”

Anna set down her fork, feeling awkward. “I… Thank you. I'm sorry if I intrude.”

Olivia laughed softly, waving her hand. “Intrude? This is your home now. Don't sit there like you're a guest in a museum. Tell me, do you like sweets? Because I could live on them.”

Anna's lips twitched despite herself. “I… I do. Especially macarons. They're delicate.”

“Delicate but stubborn,” Olivia said, grinning. “Like me. People think we crumble, but one wrong bite and we break their teeth instead.”

She leaned closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Don't let Helena hear me say that. She'll throw me in with the dishes.”

Anna gave a small, nervous laugh. It felt foreign, but Olivia's ease made it possible.

“You're nervous,” Olivia observed, tilting her head to the side.  

”You don't have to be with me. William can be terrifying, Helena can be cruel, Mother can be cold… but me? I just want a sister-in-law I can actually talk to.” 

Anna's throat tightened. A warmth spread in her chest at Olivia's words, fragile but real. She whispered, “Thank you. That… means a lot.” 

Olivia smiles softly. “Good. Then promise me you'll try to smile more. You're too pretty to hide behind silence.”

Before Anna could reply, the air shifted.

Helena entered, her steps slow and deliberate, her sleek black cat draped lazily in her arms. Nyx's yellow eyes gleamed as her tail flicked.

Olivia's cheerful chapter stilled instantly.

Helena's lips curved. “Well, well. Our new bride is making herself at home.” 

Nyx suddenly leapt from Helena's hold, landing squarely on the counter. With startling precision, the cat lounged toward Anna's plate, claws scratching against porcelain. Anna shrieked, stumbling back as cheesecake toppled onto the counter.

Olivia gasped. “Anna!”

But Helena only arched a brow, unfazed. “Relax. Nyx loves cheesecake and macarons. They're her favorite.” Her voice dropped with disdain as her eyes fixed on Anna. 

“I'm sure you don't mind sharing… Do you?” 

Anna's heart thudded violently. Her gaze flickered between the cat's bared teeth and Helena's mocking stare. She swallowed.

“N-no.” 

Nyx hissed, her back arching, yellow eyes glinting as Anna tried to edge her plate away.

Before fear could paralyze her further, Olivia struck the cat sharply with her slipper, knocking her off the counter. Nyx landed on the floor with a furious hiss, circling before slinking to Helena's feet.

“Keep your monster away from her,” Olivia snapped.

Helena's smile thinned. “Touch my cat again, Olivia, and you'll regret it.”

Tension crackled in the kitchen air. Anna's pulse hammered, her hands trembling around her fork.

Then the sound of footsteps broke the standoff.

Katherine swept in, regal and icy, Oliver at her side.

“I hate that cat,” Oliver muttered instantly, glaring at Nyx.

Helena smirked. “That's because Nyx has taste. She knows who to scratch.” 

“That is enough,” Katherine cut in.. not with weariness, but with authority sharp enough to quieten the room. 

Her gaze slid over Anna, cool and measuring. “The Lancaster funeral for Lauren will be held the day after tomorrow. You will attend, of course.”

Anna's chest constricted. Her fork slipped from her hand. Tears welled unbidden at the thought of her sister. Her laughter, her presence reduced to talks of a funeral.

Oliver, oblivious to the depth of Anna's grief, pulled out his tablet and shove it toward her. “You've seen this, right?” 

On the screen blared the headline:

LANCASTER HEIRESS FOUND DEAD – APPARENT SUICIDE

A smiling photo of Lauren stared back at her.

Her breath ceased. She pressed her hand to her mouth, tears spilling as her chest cracked under the pressure of it all.

Helena's voice slid through the silence like a knife. “How poetic. The prized jewel buried, and the second hand left standing in her place.”

Anna flinched. Olivia bristled. “Helena stop—”

But Helena's eyes gleaned, her smile cruel as Nyx twined around her legs. “Careful, Anna. Houses like this have sharp teeth. And you've always been the weaker sister.” 

Anna's tears blurred her vision, the cat's hiss echoing like an omen.

The kitchen air seemed to close in, heavy with venom and unspoken truths.

And as the walls of the Fairchild mansion loomed around her, Anna realized… This was only the beginning.