Four Weeks Later

Four weeks later my mother was discharged.

The estate felt different with her back in it, quieter in some ways, heavier in others. I had spent the morning reviewing the limited reports the temporary administrator still allowed me to see when the staff announced an unscheduled visitor.

Richard’s father. …What a Wow!!

I reached the main sitting room just as he was being shown in. My mother sat on the long sofa, still careful with her movements. He greeted her with polished warmth, but his eyes did not stay on her. They moved across the room, the doorways, the visible hall beyond, lingering a second too long on the spaces that led deeper into the house, measuring, assessing, like a man already deciding what could be taken.

I stepped fully into the room.

“Looking for something?” I asked.

He turned, smile already in place. “Lisa. You’ve grown sharper since we last spoke.”

“And you’ve grown bolder, walking through my house like you’re measuring it.”

My mother’s voice cut in quickly, low and urgent. “Lisa. Be polite.”

Yeah. They are another powerful family and we cannot afford unnecessary conflict right now but I don't care at this point. 

I did not look away from him. “I am being polite. I haven’t asked him to leave yet.”

Richard’s father gave a soft, almost fond laugh. “Let her be. She’s still a child in many ways, and a young heiress still unhappy about her father’s death. The burden of carrying the family is weighing her down. I understand.”

The words were smooth and they were also mockery dressed as sympathy. He was explaining me away, reducing every sharp move I had made into grief and inexperience, while the real weight of what he had done to my father and to me sat unspoken between us. I kept my face calm only by force. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how clearly I understood the game.

He turned back to my mother as if I had already been handled. “Tell me, when should we expect the next step between Richard and Lisa? The families have been aligned for so long. A marriage would settle many things. Stability is important, especially now.”

My mother’s eyes widened. She actually coughed once, caught off guard by how directly he dropped the subject, the word marriage landing in the room like something heavy and unwanted.

I walked further into the room before she could recover.

“There’s no need to rush plans that don’t exist yet,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. “Richard hasn’t made any formal marital move, and I haven’t agreed to one. Timing matters. Forcing it only creates problems.”

I watched his face while I spoke, I could see there was a tightness at the corner of his mouth, a quiet urgency he tried to cover with another pleasant smile. He wanted the marriage locked in. He wanted the Loneria name and assets tied down while I was still under restriction. The desperation was small, but it was there, and it made the air feel thinner. Good, next step …..I would delay it until the word marriage tasted like ash to every Hale who thought they could schedule my future.

My mother shifted on the sofa, her voice careful but strained. “Lisa, lower your tone. We must remain respectful, this family has influence, Your father would not want unnecessary enemies.”

Something inside me snapped. I turned toward her fully, the heat rising too fast to stop. “You’re telling me to be calm? You’re still in a suspicious condition because of that fall, and until now we don’t even know who caused it. Someone put oil outside my door, Someone wanted an accident. Yet you expect me to smile and be careful with a man who walks through this house with measuring eyes and marriage on his tongue?”

My voice climbed despite my effort to hold it. “He has no good intention. He’s a pretender. I can see it, I can feel it and everyone looks at me like I’m running crazy because I refuse to pretend with him.”

Tears burned at the edges of my vision, sharp and humiliating, but I did not stop. The weight of the past life pressed too hard, the memory of poison and quiet laughter in a hospital room, the knowledge that no one else in this house could see what I saw. “You want me to be polite while he sits here talking about settling things with a wedding as if my life is a contract he can close when it suits him. I won’t do it.”

My mother stared at me, completely still, her expression dumbfounded, as if the girl in front of her had become someone she no longer recognized. The silence that followed was thick and painful.

Richard’s father watched the exchange with that same mild, untouchable smile, as if the crack in our family was only further proof of his earlier words.

I forced air into my lungs and turned back to him, my voice lower but no softer. “You must be busy. I’ll have someone see you out. Thank you for visiting my mother.”

I gestured toward the door with a polite motion that left no room for argument. He held my gaze a moment longer, still smiling, then inclined his head.

“Of course. Take care of yourself, Lisa.”

I walked him to the entrance myself fighting every urge to kick the asshole off my father's property. Every step was measured and respectful enough that no one could call it a scene. Clear enough that he knew he was being removed. When the door finally closed behind him, my shoulders loosened only a fraction, the tears I had refused to let fall still burning behind my eyes.

My phone rang before I could return to my mother.

IT department.

“Miss Loneria, we finished tracing the number that ordered your pickup that night. The request came through a private service, but the originating account belongs to Isabella Voss.”

The name landed harder than I expected.

“Isabella?”

I stood still in the hallway, the phone cold against my ear. Why would she send a guard for me? Why would she care where I was late at night? The fear came quickly and cleanly. If she had been watching that closely, she might have seen me with Adrian. She might already know more than she should.

“Invite her here,” I said. “I want to speak with her directly. Make it polite. Make it clear I expect her.”

“Yes, Miss.”

I ended the call and stayed where I was, the argument with my mother still echoing in my chest, the marriage talk still sitting like a threat in the air, and now Isabella Voss reaching into my night without permission.

Richard’s father had walked through my house with measuring eyes and marriage on his tongue. Adrian was the only person who understood the full shape of my past, and even that alliance came with sharp edges. Now another name had appeared where it did not belong.

I no longer knew who was an enemy and who was only waiting for a better angle because everyone aroun

d me had started to look like a threat.