Chapter 4
Dulcie’s ring had belonged to my mother.
That was why Sophronia hated seeing it.
Not the value.
There was almost none.
Plain gold.
Inside, my mother had engraved one sentence before giving it to me:
CHOOSE YOUR OWN HOME.
She understood.
More than I ever knew.
I gave it to Dulcie on our wedding night.
Sophronia recognized it immediately.
That made the auction uglier.
She was not stealing random jewelry from a maid.
She was stripping a secret wife of the one object that openly contradicted the role assigned to her.
I confronted her.
“You knew Mother gave me that.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Dulcie wore it because she was my wife.”
“Yes.”
“And you auctioned it anyway.”
Sophronia’s composure finally cracked.
“She wears it in front of guests.”
“So?”
“They ask.”
“Good.”
“She wants to be discovered.”
I looked toward Dulcie.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Sophronia stopped.
Dulcie continued.
“I wore it because taking it off made me feel like I helped kill him.”
My throat closed.
The public widow story required her husband to be dead.
Me.
Every time she removed the ring, she felt as though she were participating in my invented death.
I had never thought of that.
Because I had never been asked to live it.
Dulcie whispered:
“I stopped taking it off.”
Sophronia interpreted that as rebellion.
So she escalated.
Private insults.
Worst shifts.
Guest service.
Then tonight, public humiliation.
She wanted Dulcie to understand the hierarchy.
Instead, she forced me to destroy the secret.
I looked at my sister.
“You wanted her invisible.”
May you like
Sophronia said nothing.
“You made her impossible to ignore.”
