THE sleek black BMW glided into the driveway of Oswald's mansion, the setting sun casting long shadows across the estate. His mind was preoccupied as he connected a call to his mother, Lady Frances, the irritation in his voice barely restrained.
“Mother, why did you tell Vincenzo about Orlanda?” he asked sharply, stepping out of the car, Nathan shut the door with a firm push the minute he walked away.
“Oswald, darling, I only mentioned it in passing,” Lady Frances replied, her voice calm but tinged with concern. “He is your cousin; I thought it might help to share.”
Oswald’s jaw tightened as he made his way towards the entrance of his mansion.
“Help? He called me today just to mock me! You know how he is, always twisting things to get under my skin.”
Before Lady Frances could respond,
