Chapter 2

"So, that's why Queen Myra disappeared for five years. She was secretly living her best life!"

"Get rid of all this trash. Throw it out. If Georgie comes back and sees it, he'll be upset." Myra wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and pinched her nose at a pile of brand-new collectibles.

The movers immediately began hauling my things toward the garbage area. There, mixed in with filth and trash, were antiques and paintings I had collected from all over the world.

"Stop!" I grabbed a worker's arm and turned to Myra. "Who do you think you are? What are you doing in my house?"

"Oh, my God! Bitchel Miller actually dared to show up?"

"Hey, can't you read? The banner says congratulations to Mrs. Pearce. Do you think you're Mrs. Pearce? What a joke!"

"Delusional fans these days are taking it too far. Squatting in someone's house is unacceptable."

"This estate must be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Of course she'd try to ride off the hype. What a shameless tramp!"

I slapped the reporter who was running his mouth and snapped, "And who the hell are you? Who gave you permission to come in here?" I knocked his camera aside, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him out. "Get out!"

"Stop!" A slender, pale hand blocked my way.

Myra frowned slightly, her delicate face showing an imposing expression. "Ms. Miller, I'm usually very easy-going, but that doesn't give you the right to cause a scene on my property!"

"She's lost it! Rachel, the crazed fan, actually dared to cause trouble on the goddess' turf. She actually thinks this is her home?"

"Hah! She really thinks she's Mrs. Pearce, doesn't she? How ridiculous!"

I shot Myra a cold glare. "Move. I don't welcome outsiders in my home. That includes you."

Myra positioned herself in front of the reporter, her brows furrowing deeper. "Ms. Miller, I know you've held a grudge against me for years because of my husband. I don't mind that.

"Today is my housewarming. If you'd like to offer congratulations, you're welcome as my guest. But if you insist on clinging to delusions and assaulting people on my property, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She stood there in an elegant black dress embroidered with a floral print, a white shawl draped over her shoulders, and high heels, which elevated her graceful posture. Her crisp voice instantly won over the crowd. Cameras flashed wildly.

"Goodness! This is indeed our goddess! I'm dead. Her charm is killing me.'

"Our goddess is so polite, classy, and principled. Where do you find someone like her? I'm a loyal fan for life."

"If I were Myra and some psycho came pretending to be me and crashed my new house, I'd have security beat her and throw her out."

Myra showed little outward reaction, but the corners of her lips curved slightly in satisfaction. When she looked back at me, her chin lifted. "Ms. Miller, for old times' sake, it would be best not to stir up trouble."

I slapped her hard across her face. A red mark bloomed on her cheek instantly. I slammed the property deed against her chest, grabbed her collar, and said, "Take a good look. This is my property, not yours. You stole my daughter's spot in school, and I haven't even settled that score yet.

"Now, you want to squat in my estate? You're nothing but my husband's assistant. Who gave you permission to come into my home and cause a scene?"

"Ah!" Myra clutched her face and bent forward, wobbling unsteadily in her heels. Her voice trembled as she yelled, "Help!"

"Have you no shame?" Someone suddenly shoved me hard, nearly snapping my manicured nails. "Coming into someone else's house and making a scene! Is this a cry for attention?

"I can't stay silent anymore. If it weren't for not wanting to ruin Queen Myra's housewarming, I'd have dealt with you already! How dare you call our goddess your husband's assistant? Do you really think we wouldn't dare lay hands on you?"

I steadied myself, gripping my phone tightly, and sneered. "Alright. I've already called the police. Come at me if you dare!"