Chapter 3
My mother had discovered the plan three weeks earlier.
Not because Marcus told her.
Because Hazel did.
That surprised me.
Mother saw it.
“You underestimate her.”
I looked toward the door.
Hazel was back at the mansion with security.
I had not brought her.
Her wrist needed treatment.
And she had already been dragged far enough into this.
“What did Hazel see?”
Mother sat again.
“Lists.”
I almost groaned.
“Not paperwork,” she said dryly.
“She memorized names.”
Better.
Estelle had been interviewing household staff privately.
Butlers.
Drivers.
Kitchen supervisors.
Night security.
Housekeepers.
Always framed as wedding preparation.
Who preferred which shifts.
Who had family debt.
Who disliked my mother.
Who wanted promotion.
Normal questions.
Until Hazel noticed every person offered a better position had some connection to Pierce.
Cousin.
Former employee.
Family friend.
Brother-in-law.
Not enough to accuse.
Enough to watch.
Then two older Blackwood staff members disappeared from schedules.
Reassigned.
One without my approval.
Mother confronted Estelle.
Estelle smiled.
Said the wedding required “fresh energy.”
My mother heard what I should have heard earlier.
Replacement.
Not improvement.
“What does Marcus gain by controlling household staff?”
Edmund answered.
“Access.”
At least the old man respected obvious questions.
He had advised my father for thirty years.
He understood better than Marcus what a house could do.
“You don’t need to challenge Julian publicly,” Edmund said.
“You control what reaches him.”
Marcus looked annoyed.
Interesting.
“So this was your idea?”
Edmund shook his head.
“No.”
Mother laughed.
“Estelle’s.”
That surprised me.
Not her father.
Not an old adviser.
My fiancée.
Mother continued.
“She understood the house better than either of them.”
Of course she did.
Estelle had spent two years watching how people entered my life.
A boss can have fifty armed men and still be isolated by three people who control his calendar, bedroom corridor, and dinner table.
“What did Hazel tell you?”
Mother smiled faintly.
“That Estelle asked whether staff loyalty belonged to the Blackwood name or the person signing their wages.”
My jaw tightened.
Wrong question to ask in my house.
Then Mother said:
“Hazel was afraid to tell you directly.”
That hurt.
“Why?”
My mother looked at me carefully.
“Because she thought you’d believe your fiancée over a maid.”
Silence.
May you like
I had no answer.
That silence belonged to me.
