Chapter 21: Frustrated Winnie

Alexander stiffened at Beatrice’s words. Distrusting his wife, he asked cautiously, “I can’t guess. Just tell me—what is it?”

Beatrice lifted her chin, triumphant. “The Butterfly Dress that Buffon Leonardo, the Italian designer, has refused to sell for twenty years—I managed to snap it up for Catherine. Am I not wonderful?”

Winnie’s face darkened at once. She clenched her teeth. She had dreamed for years of wearing that dress, but her mother had bought it for Alicia instead. Jealousy surged so hotly she couldn’t hide it.

Her mood collapsed entirely.

Alexander eyed his wife with suspicion. “Thank you,” he said, though worry tightened his voice. Then, turning to Alicia, he added, “Take a look at the dress—see if you like it.”

“All right,” Alicia replied simply.

After dinner, once Beatrice went to her room, Winnie hurried in, grumbling. “Mom, why would you give that slut such a beautiful dress that cost so much? That bitch doesn’t deserve it.”

Beatrice soothed her. “I’m doing this for our own good. If I bought any other dress, your father wouldn’t let her wear it. I needed an offer neither of them could refuse. Do you think I’d mistreat you for that daughter of a hoe?”

Winnie’s expression eased, though she still muttered under her breath. Beatrice went on, “I made a lot of promises—and a few lies—to Buffon. He’ll be at your father’s birthday. You know how he is: famous, blunt, decisive, stubborn. If Catherine ruins his signature design with that muscular body of hers, just imagine his reaction. He might cause a scene and demand she change. She’ll die of shame.”

Winnie’s anger melted into excitement. “I can’t wait for Dad’s birthday,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Then everyone will see that a pretty face doesn’t mean you’re truly beautiful.”

Beatrice snorted. “That little hoe is just like her mother—hiding behind a pretty face and playing innocent while taking advantage of people.”

After finishing her conversation with her mother, Winnie returned to her room. She flipped on the lights—and froze. A heap of dresses lay across her bed. Her expression shifted sharply when she recognized them: every one belonged to Alicia. Worse, they were the very dresses Winnie had deliberately sprayed with a skin-ruining substance.

Shock rippled through her. Alicia had found out—and thrown them back in her face. Winnie’s jaw tightened. “That bitch is really smart. How did she figure out what I planned?”

Frowning, she thought hard. Then her gaze turned icy. Without another moment’s hesitation, she stormed out and headed straight to the servants’ quarters, where the keys to every door in the mansion were kept. The moment she spotted the maid on duty, Winnie’s hand lashed out. The slap cracked through the corridor.

“How dare you!”

The maid clutched her cheek, eyes filling with tears, too stunned to speak.

“What did she offer you to expose me?” Winnie sneered, her voice like a blade.

The maid stared, bewildered, clearly not understanding. The confusion only enraged Winnie further. Another slap sent the maid’s head snapping to the side.

“How did Catherine get into my room?” Winnie demanded.

Comprehension dawned on the maid’s face. “Second Miss, I haven’t seen the First Miss today at all. You can check the CCTV.”

Winnie’s glare hardened. “You’d better not be lying, or you’ll regret being born.”

The maid trembled. “Second Miss, I would never lie to you—”

“Shut your mouth,” Winnie snapped, loathing the title as much as the explanation.

She pivoted and stalked off to the security room. She ordered the footage for her hallway and bedroom pulled up. To her irritation—and a prickle of unease—nothing was amiss. The entire day, Alicia never even approached her door.

Winnie’s brows knit. Ghosts weren’t real. So how had Alicia’s dresses—the ones she’d tainted herself—ended up on her bed?

Still seething and unsettled, she instructed the servants to scrub her room spotless and burn every single dress. “No one hears a word about this,” she warned. “Not a soul.”

The next morning, Winnie rushed into her mother’s room and poured out everything that had happened. “Mom, do you think Dad is secretly helping Catherine? It feels like no matter what we do, we can’t beat her.”

Beatrice had clearly considered the same possibility. She shook her head, then clenched her teeth. “Your father might not be, but someone definitely is.”

“Who?” Winnie pressed. “Who’s backing Catherine?”

Beatrice’s voice hardened. “Andy.”

Winnie’s resentment flared. “Why didn’t that accident finish him off? He’s unbearable. How did he even plant people inside this mansion? Mom, we need to find them and get rid of them. I can’t stand him!”

Beatrice let out a weary sigh. “No matter how many times we clean house, his people find their way back in. He’s too resourceful. We’ll just have to put up with him—and with her—until they get married and stop being an eyesore in this place.”

“When are they announcing their engagement?” Winnie demanded. “I can’t wait for her to disappear.”

Just then, Andy’s car rolled out of the driveway. From an upstairs window, Beatrice and Winnie watched him take Alicia out of the mansion, their eyes burning with loathing.

After dropping her at her usual spot, Alicia walked the rest of the way to the office. A car idled across the street, tucked against the curb. From the back seat, someone watched her intently as she went inside.