Amara’s POV
The media interview had been a victory for Adrian Wolfe, the CEO. But for Amara Wolfe, the woman, it was a death sentence. The public might have bought the "fairytale," but the people inside the walls of the Wolfe Mansion knew the price of every brick.
And they were determined to make sure I felt the weight of them.
It started with the small things. My morning tea, usually brought at 8:00 AM, began arriving at 9:30 AM—lukewarm and bitter. My laundry, which should have been returned to my dressing room, was left in baskets in the hallway for me to carry myself.
I was being treated like a guest who had overstayed her welcome, rather than the mistress of the house.
"Mrs. Gable?" I called out, finding the head housekeeper in the gallery, meticulously dusting a collection of Mi
