The car rolled to a smooth stop in the parking lot of the house. Christopher stepped out first, followed closely by Racheal. As if on cue, three male servants hurried toward them, heads bowed in deference.
“Offload the car and bring it with me,” Christopher instructed, his tone clipped. Then he turned to Racheal. “You can go rest. Thanks for your help.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned coolly and walked away.
Racheal’s face flushed a deep shade of red, her chest rising and falling with suppressed fury. That was it? A thank you? No acknowledgment, no invitation inside, no offer of company, after everything?
Her hands balled into fists as her heels clacked angrily against the ground. This wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. And she wouldn’t sit quietly and let it go. Sophia
