73. Alastair

Alastair

My eyes remained fixed on the woman who had entered my chamber, wearing an elegant gown that contrasted sharply with the turmoil she had just stirred. Chelsea, her name echoed in my mind, and her piercing gaze bore into mine with a mixture of anger and defiance. She stood there, unyielding, a stark contrast to the woman beside her—Ms. Beth, who seemed somewhat disappointed.

Ms. Beth’s feelings were of little concern to me at the moment. What consumed my thoughts was the woman before me, Chelsea. She had been playing a cat-and-mouse game with me for the past three days, and the orchestrator of this elaborate dance was none other than Ms. Beth herself. Three days ago, in a fit of frustration, I had ordered Ms. Beth to keep Chelsea away from my chambers. She had dutifully complied, which was acceptable. What was not acceptable, however, was that Ms. Beth had not sent Chelsea to me for any reason in these past three days. It was as if she had disappeared from my world entirely.

I