“You wench!” Eleanor spat, spinning around to face me with a look of pure, unadulterated disdain. The refined mask she usually wore was slipping, revealing the jagged edges of her greed. “You mannerless girl. Were you never taught that it’s remarkably rude to eavesdrop on people’s private conversations?”
I didn't flinch. I stood my ground, leaning casually against the doorframe of the living room. I raised my hand, slowly inspecting my nails as if I’d found a speck of imaginary dust that was far more interesting than her tantrum.
“Well, Eleanor, when said conversations are taking place at a volume that shakes the chandeliers in a house I happen to own... it becomes my business,” I said, my voice smooth and calm.
“You!” she hissed, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at me. “You could
