Chương 8
It never did.
She arrived back at the mansion after sunset.
The lights inside the house were warm.
The kind of lighting designed to make a place feel welcoming.
Tonight, it felt like a stage.
Everyone had a role.
Everyone knew something was wrong.
Victoria entered through the front door and immediately noticed the difference.
Nobody rushed to greet her.
Nobody asked about her day.
The staff moved normally, but the normal felt deliberate.
She removed her coat slowly.
Her hands were steady.
That was something she had always been proud of.
Even when she was afraid, she could appear composed.
It had helped her survive difficult moments.
She had learned that people often gave power to whoever looked least affected.
But tonight, the trick felt useless.
Sylvester waited in the study.
The door was open.
That bothered her.
A closed door would have meant a confrontation.
An open door meant something else.
A conversation.
And conversations were harder.
She stepped inside.
Derek was already there.
Victoria stopped.
For the first time that evening, her control slipped.
"What is he doing here?"
Derek looked down.
Sylvester sat behind the desk.
"Sit."
She did not.
"I asked a question."
Sylvester looked at Derek.
Then back at her.
"Sit."
The second time was quieter.
It was also stronger.
Victoria sat.
Derek remained standing.
The arrangement bothered her.
It made her feel like she was the person being examined.
She hated that feeling.
"So this is what this is?"
She looked between them.
"A trial?"
"No."
Sylvester opened the folder.
"It is a conversation."
Victoria almost laughed.
"That is what people call it when they have already decided."
Sylvester did not react.
"Did you attempt to change ownership arrangements connected to the estate?"
The directness surprised her.
She had expected accusations.
Not questions.
"I looked at options."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer."
"No."
Sylvester placed a document on the desk.
"It is a phrase designed to avoid one."
Victoria stared at the paper.
She knew what it was.
Not the details.
But enough.
"Who gave you this?"
Nobody answered.
That told her more than an answer would have.
Her eyes moved to Derek.
The betrayal arrived quietly.
Not because she was shocked.
Because some part of her had always known.
"You."
Derek looked uncomfortable.
"Victoria."
"No."
She stood.
"You?"
Her voice changed.
Not louder.
Sharper.
"I protected you."
Derek finally looked at her.
"Did you?"
The question stopped her.
Because he was not defending himself.
He was questioning the entire foundation of what they had been.
"You needed me."
Derek gave a small, painful laugh.
"That is exactly what I mean."
Victoria looked at him.
"You think I used you?"
"I think we used each other."
The honesty was worse than anger.
Because anger could be dismissed.
Honesty could not.
Sylvester watched them carefully.
This was the part people rarely understood about betrayal.
The person who hurt you was not always the person who knew the most.
Sometimes the person who knew the most was the one who helped create the situation.
Victoria sat again.
Her confidence had changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
"What happens now?"
Sylvester looked at her.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you are willing to tell the truth."
Victoria looked away.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she said something unexpected.
"I was afraid."
Derek looked at her.
Sylvester remained still.
Victoria folded her hands.
"I know nobody wants to hear that."
"That is not true."
She looked up.
"Then why does everyone act like it is?"
Because nobody answered, she continued.
"When I married into this family, everyone already knew who I was supposed to be."
Her voice became quieter.
"The second wife."
"The replacement."
"The person who would never be as important as the woman before me."
Sylvester's expression changed slightly.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
Because he knew grief could create impossible standards.
Victoria continued.
"I spent years trying to prove I belonged."
She looked around the room.
"This house never felt like mine."
Derek looked down.
"But that does not excuse what happened," Victoria said.
The admission surprised everyone.
Especially her.
She swallowed.
"Mia did not deserve that."
The sentence was small.
But it was the first thing she had said that was not about defending herself.
Sylvester leaned back.
"No."
Victoria nodded.
"I know."
The room became quiet.
Not peaceful.
But different.
There was finally something real inside it.
"Why the hair?" Sylvester asked.
Victoria looked confused.
"What?"
"Why that?"
She looked at her hands.
"I don't know."
The answer sounded weak.
She knew it.
"I saw her one morning."
"She was wearing that old dress her mother bought."
Sylvester said nothing.
"She looked exactly like her."
The room shifted.
Derek looked at Victoria.
She continued.
"And I hated myself for noticing."
The confession came out painfully.
"I was jealous of a child."
Nobody spoke.
"I knew it was wrong."
Her eyes became wet.
"But knowing something is wrong does not always stop people from doing it."
Sylvester listened.
Because this was the first time she had stopped trying to appear innocent.
She was finally admitting something uglier.
Something human.
"I wanted her to stop reminding me of what I could never be."
The words hung there.
Derek closed his eyes.
Because suddenly the entire situation looked different.
Not better.
Not forgiven.
But clearer.
Sylvester looked at Victoria.
"You hurt a child because you were hurting."
Victoria nodded.
"Yes."
"That does not make it acceptable."
"I know."
Another quiet answer.
He believed her.
Not completely.
Not yet.
Trust did not return because someone finally said the right words.
But something had changed.
The door opened.
Maria stood there.
"I'm sorry."
Everyone turned.
She looked nervous.
"There is someone here."
Sylvester frowned.
"Who?"
Maria hesitated.
"Alan Brooks."
Victoria's face changed.
Only for a moment.
But enough.
Sylvester saw it.
"Send him in."
Victoria stood.
"No."
The word came quickly.
Too quickly.
Everyone noticed.
Sylvester looked at her.
May you like
"Why?"
Victoria looked toward the door.
