CHAPTER 7: It's Mrs Blackwood to you

CHAPTER 7: It's Mrs Blackwood to you

And then I saw him.

Vance.

He stood near the steps, his mother clinging to his arm like a brooch. His face faltered the second he saw me. The color bled from his cheeks. Patricia was glaring daggers at me.

I was sure Vance never expected me to show up to his wife's funeral. Actually no one did. 

I smiled. A slow, deliberate curve of the lips. I had been waiting for this for a long time.

He started toward us before his mother could stop him.

“Mr Blackwood,” he greeted, voice smooth, but eyes flicking to me like he couldn’t help himself.

Zachary gave him a nod so faint it felt like a dismissal. “Vance. My condolences.”

“Thank you.”

Vance’s jaw tightened, as he turned to me. “Madelyn.”

“It's Mrs Blackwood to you,” Zachary said in a voice that left no room for either argument nor discussion.

“My mistake. Mrs Blackwood,” he apologised with a tight smile.

I smiled, tilting my head. “Mr. Bomer.”

His lips parted—shock or confusion or both flickered in his gaze. “You look—different.”

I leaned slightly toward Zachary, trailing my hand down his side like we were lovers and allies—the perfect couple.

“We grow up, don’t we? I can't say the same for you,” I said sweetly, then turned to Julia without waiting for his response. “Shall we go inside?”

Julia gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Of course.”

Zachary’s eyes cut briefly toward me. I knew he saw it all—my deliberate cruelty, my controlled posture, the tiny thrill I took in watching Vance unravel. He didn’t stop me. He never did. He hardly ever reacted.

We were about to head to our seats when Patricia stepped in. My eyes narrowed suspiciously at the hag. She was up to something.

“Mr Blackwood, thank you for coming.”

Zachary's reply was a faint nod. 

She turned to me, and I saw the disdain and malice in her eyes, despite the saccharine smile tugging at her lips.

“Madelyn—”

“You'd address me as Mrs Blackwood, Patricia,” I cut in with a sugared poison smile of my own. 

Her expression faltered for a second. “Of course. Mrs Blackwood,” she said. “Surely you remember Vance?” she added with a sneaky smile.

“Not now, mother.”

Vance made a show of trying to look uncomfortable at the question his mother asked. But I knew that he was a snake, just like the old hag. 

My smile was sickeningly sweet. “Of course. However, there's really nothing that's worth remembering,” I replied in a honeyed voice.

Her jaw tightened. I had no doubt that she would have tried to get back at me had Zachary not been here. 

I could feel Vance's gaze. His expression faltered, flickering between fury and disbelief. His gaze dropped lower to my hand resting on Zachary's chest, and then his hand on my waist. I was sure any tighter then the champagne glass in his grip would shatter.

Julia stepped forward. “Please which way to our seats?”

I knew she was trying to diffuse the tension that was beginning to brew. Still I resisted the strong urge to roll my eyes.

Patricia led the way while Vance walked away to go meet other guests. The crowd of black parted as we moved. Zachary's presence always drew attention like a shark to water. He didn’t need to speak to draw attention. There were whispers as we walked towards our seats. 

He slightly leaned in. “Hold your head up high. You're my wife. You're with me now. You belong here.”

His words did something in my chest. But it also made me hold my head higher.

The service blurred into grey.

I sat beside Zachary in the front row, close enough that Patricia and Vance would be forced to see us. Patricia didn’t hide her scowl now. Vance, seated beside his mother, now made a show of wiping a few teardrops every now and again. He kept shifting in his seat like the casket might suddenly open.

There was definitely no sympathy in my heart for Nicole. She had always disliked and tried to make my life hell. Pity she got what she always wanted and what she didn't.

As the minister droned on, I leaned toward Zachary. “I need to use the restroom?”

He nodded, eyes still on the minister. “Julia will take you.”

“I don't need a fucking chaperone to use the restroom. I'd rather go alone.”

He looked at me then, chocolate–brown eyes narrowing a fraction. “Fine. Don't take too long.”

One of the staff directed me to the restroom. After relieving myself, I took a few minutes to calm myself before stepping out again. 

I didn't intend to get lost.

The Bomer estate was a maze of corridors lined with portraits and antique pieces. I recognised some of the paintings as Vance, Patricia, and Nicole. 

I couldn't figure out which way I had come from anymore. I tried to retrace my steps, and instead walked deeper into the wing. 

Then I heard voices, and followed it. A couple of maids stood beyond an archway, speaking in urgent whispers. I stepped closer to ask them for directions.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but then I heard it.

“...I'm telling you it sounds too sketchy and convenient to be a coincidence.”

“I thought so too. I heard them yelling in their bedroom just two nights before the crash.”

My brow furrowed. Were they talking about Nicole?

“Ma'am Nicole was very hysterical that night. Especially after she found out about his affair,” said one of them. She was small and blonde.

“Oh, that's nothing new.”

They were indeed talking about Nicole. Vance had even been cheating on her. A leopard really never changes its spots.

“...no. This time it was different. She threatened to expose him about something. Then I overheard him plotting something with his mother that same night,” insisted the small blonde one.

My heart hammered once. Twice. 

Nicole. Was her death really just a tragic accident? Or was there more to it?

There were brisk footsteps behind me, and the maids stopped talking. Before I could turn to see who it was, I was dragged by a hand,and another hand clamped tight over my mouth. I struggled and tried to scream, but it was muffled. My heart rate spiked when I saw that I was being dragged towards a door.