Chapter 1
“There is no ‘after we marry.’”
Victoria went completely still.
Her engagement ring sat in her palm.
Behind me, Noah was holding Margaret’s skirt with one hand and wiping tears with the other.
Sophie stood beside the children’s table.
Nine years old.
Old enough to understand everyone was staring at her.
Young enough that none of this should have been hers to carry.
I turned to Margaret.
“How long?”
Victoria’s eyes snapped toward her.
That told me I had asked the right question.
Margaret swallowed.
“Mr. Marconi—”
“How long has she treated Noah like this?”
Silence.
Then:
“Six weeks.”
My chest tightened.
Victoria stepped forward.
“That is an exaggeration.”
I looked at her.
“Then let Margaret finish.”
She stopped.
Margaret told me the first incident happened during a luncheon.
Victoria moved Noah’s place card away from the family table.
Said children should learn where they belonged before the household changed.
Another evening, she made him carry napkins because Sophie wanted his chair.
Then dessert spoons.
Then empty glasses.
Nothing heavy enough to alarm people individually.
A slow rearrangement.
Child to helper.
Son to background.
I looked at Noah.
Three years old.
He had apparently accepted each new instruction because adults praised him for “helping.”
That word suddenly disgusted me.
“What else?”
Margaret hesitated.
Victoria’s expression hardened.
Margaret continued anyway.
“She changed the nursery.”
I became still.
“How?”
“Sophie’s things were moved into the larger room.”
Noah’s room.
“And Noah?”
“The small room near the service stairs.”
My voice dropped.
“Who authorized that?”
Victoria answered:
“I did.”
Of course.
“Why?”
Her chin lifted.
“Sophie is older.”
Not enough.
Then:
“She’ll need privacy after we marry.”
There it was again.
After.
A future Victoria had already reorganized without me.
Then Margaret said quietly:
“There’s more.”
I looked at her.
She glanced toward the mansion.
“Mrs. Hale has been asking staff to call Sophie the future daughter of Marconi.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
I looked at Noah.
May you like
My son had not merely lost a chair today.
Someone had been rehearsing a version of my family in which he slowly lost his place.
