Chapter 9

ANDERSON HOUSE 

The grand dining room of Anderson House felt unusually quiet that morning. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting warm patterns on the polished mahogany table, but the atmosphere was far from cheerful.

Amy descended the stairs in her usual designer robe, her hair still slightly tousled from sleep. She expected the familiar aroma of Jenny’s perfectly prepared breakfast—fluffy pancakes with fresh berries, crispy bacon, and hot coffee exactly the way she liked it. Instead, she found only her mother, Emma , seated at the head of the table, sipping tea while scrolling through her phone.

“Where’s Dad?” Amy asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“He left early for a meeting,” Emma replied without looking up. “Some urgent business at the company.”

Amy lifted the silver cloche covering her plate and wrinkled her nose in distaste. The scrambled eggs looked dry, the toast was barely buttered, and the bacon was overcooked and greasy. This was nothing like the carefully prepared meals Jenny used to make.

Out of pure habit, Amy called out loudly, “Jenny! Come and change this food. It’s disgusting!”

Silence answered her.

Emma finally looked up, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised. “Amy, dear, Jenny is no longer here. She was married off yesterday, remember?”

Amy blinked, then let out a dramatic sigh as realization dawned on her. “Oh, right. That’s why breakfast tastes like this. And my laundry still isn’t done. Who’s supposed to handle all that now?”

She poked at the eggs with her fork, reluctantly taking a bite. The food was edible, but it lacked the love and attention Jenny had always put into every meal.

Emma leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “So, tell me… do you think Richard is treating our dear Jenny right? After all, we chose him specifically because of his reputation. Cold, ruthless, heartless—the perfect monster to make her life miserable.”

Amy smiled wickedly, chewing slowly. “Of course he is. Isn’t that the whole point of marrying her off to him? We wanted her to suffer. She’s been nothing but a burden in this house—always trying to act like the perfect daughter, always making Dad praise her and talk about adding her to the family will. It makes me sick.”

Emma’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Exactly. That girl has always thought she was better than us. Always quiet, always obedient, always stealing your father’s attention. I couldn’t stand watching him look at her with pride while treating you like an afterthought. Marrying her off to Richard Logard was the best decision we ever made. By now, she’s probably locked in some cold mansion, crying herself to sleep every night, wondering why her life turned into a nightmare.”

Amy laughed softly, pushing her plate aside. “I hope she’s miserable. I hope he treats her like the worthless trash she is. Coming home late, ignoring her, maybe even raising his hand once in a while. That would be perfect. And if she drops dead from the stress… well, even better. One less person standing between me and everything that should be mine.”

Emma nodded in agreement, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Your father still doesn’t know the full extent of what we did. He thinks it was just a simple arranged marriage for ‘business reasons.’ If he ever finds out we manipulated Jenny into marrying that devil just to punish her, he might actually grow a spine and confront us. But as long as he remains in the dark, we’re safe.”

Amy leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with cruel excitement. “Speaking of which… why don’t we go visit her today? We can show up at the Logard mansion under the pretense of checking on the newlyweds. I want to see her face—see how broken she looks. If she’s suffering enough, it’ll make my day. If she tries to pretend everything is fine, we’ll know she’s lying and push harder.”

Emma’s lips curled into a sly smile. “That’s a brilliant idea, darling. We’ll dress nicely, act concerned, and observe every little detail. If Richard is treating her badly, we’ll catch the signs—dark circles under her eyes, trembling hands, that defeated look she used to get when we locked her out of the house. And if she dares to look even slightly happy, we’ll remind her of her place. Maybe drop a few hints about how her father is already forgetting her now that she’s gone.”

Amy clapped her hands lightly in delight. “Yes! Let’s make it a mother-daughter outing. We can take some cheap flowers or a small gift to look thoughtful. Then we’ll watch her squirm. I can already imagine her trying to hide how miserable she is while pretending to be the perfect wife.”

The two women shared a conspiratorial laugh, the sound echoing coldly in the elegant dining room. To anyone listening from outside, it might have sounded like innocent family chatter. But beneath the surface, it was pure venom.

Emma picked up her phone and began typing a message. “I’ll call ahead and inform them we’re coming for a visit this afternoon. We’ll say it’s a courtesy call to see how the newlyweds are settling in. Richard might be at work, which is even better. We can corner Jenny alone and really dig into her.”

Amy finished the last of her coffee, her mind already racing with possibilities. “What if she tries to act strong in front of us? Should we bring up the will again? Remind her that Dad was thinking of giving her a share before she got married?”

“Absolutely,” Emma replied. “We’ll twist the knife slowly. Tell her how peaceful the house has been without her. How your father finally has time to focus on ‘real’ family matters. If she breaks down, even better. And if she doesn’t… we’ll find another way to make her life hell. Maybe spread a few more rumors about her in social circles. Or better yet, find out if Richard has any weaknesses we can exploit to make him treat her even worse.”

Amy’s smile widened into something almost predatory. “I love it. Jenny has always been too soft, too forgiving. She’ll probably welcome us with that fake polite smile of hers. But deep down, she’ll be dying inside. And we’ll get to watch every second of it.”

Emma reached across the table and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “This is why we make such a perfect team, Amy. We protect what’s ours. Jenny was never really one of us—she was just a reminder of your father’s first marriage. Now that she’s gone, the inheritance, the attention, everything belongs to you. Visiting her today will be our little victory lap.”

They continued chatting excitedly, refining their plan. They decided to arrive around 3 PM, dressed in elegant but not overly flashy outfits to appear concerned rather than celebratory. Emma would handle the polite conversation while Amy observed Jenny’s reactions closely. If Jenny showed any sign of happiness or comfort in her new home, they would immediately start subtle jabs—comments about how “surprising” it was that Richard hadn’t thrown her out yet, or how the mansion must feel so empty and cold without real family.

As they plotted, neither woman noticed the housekeeper quietly entering the room to clear the plates. The older woman kept her head down, but her eyes held a flicker of disapproval she quickly masked. She had worked in the Anderson household long enough to know how cruel Emma and Amy could be, especially toward Jenny. But she knew better than to speak up. Jobs like hers were hard to come by.

By the time breakfast ended, the plan was solid. Emma sent a short, polite text to the Logard residence, requesting permission for a visit. She signed it with false warmth: “Looking forward to seeing our dear Jenny and welcoming her into married life.”

Amy stood up, stretching lazily. “This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see her face when we walk in. Let’s make sure she remembers exactly where she came from—and how much better off we are without her.”

Emma smiled, her eyes cold and calculating. “She’ll regret ever being born into this family. And if Richard is doing his part, her suffering has only just begun.”

The two women rose from the table, already discussing what outfits to wear and what subtle insults they could slip into the conversation. For them, visiting Jenny

wasn’t an act of kindness.

It was an opportunity to gloat.