"It's not a request—I'm telling you!"
Charles had just reached the second floor when he heard Clarice's voice. He paused, turning his head slightly and catching a clear glimpse of her face.
"Margaret, go to a clinic nearby and get a doctor," he told Margaret. "Say Lydia's sick."
Once Charles left, only Clarice, Lydia and Margaret were left in the living room. The maids had already been dismissed by Margaret, who knew what Charles cared about most. She was good at pretending—after all, that's how she managed to drive Clarice's mom into the grave and steal the title of Mrs. Sullivan.
After Charles returned to his room, Lydia got off the couch and walked right up to Clarice.
Seeing the red, swollen welt on Clarice's face, she looked downright thrilled.
She'd been stewing e
