Chapter 8
490 Words
Three days later.
"Mrs. Hemsworth is here," Martha whispered, panic in her voice. "The madame. She came early."
"Now?" Reilly raised her head from her phone
A car door shut. Then another. Slow footsteps.
She turned.
An old woman in a wheelchair. Silver hair, back straight as steel. Oxygen tank beside her, but her eyes were sharp. Sharper than Liam's. Sharper than Vanessa's. This was Emily Hemsworth. The one Liam would make a deal for.
Vanessa rushed forward. "Mother, you shouldn't have-"
"Be quiet, Vanessa," the madame said. One sentence and Vanessa went silent.
Her gaze moved past everyone and landed on Reilly. Up and down. Slow. Like she was weighing her.
"So," the madame said. Her voice was soft but it filled the whole garden. "This is the girl my son married."
Reilly stepped forward. Curtsied, because Martha taught her to in 30 seconds flat. "Mrs. Hemsworth. I'm Reilly."
"Reilly Easton," the madame finished for her. "The one they sold for 30 million."
Reilly flinched. But she didn't look down. "Yes, ma'am."
Liam appeared on the steps behind them. He hadn't been in the house all morning. Now he was here, jaw tight. "Mother, you're supposed to rest-"
"I rest when I'm dead," she snapped. Then looked at Reilly again. "Let me see your hands."
Reilly held them out. No ring. Just her mother's thin gold locket at her throat.
The madame's eyes narrowed at the locket. Then at the lack of a ring. Then at Liam.
"You married her without a ring?" she asked him.
"It's a business arrangement," Liam said, voice flat. "Six months. You'll have your wedding photos."
The madame ignored him. She reached out with a thin, spotted hand and touched Reilly's locket. "This was your mother's."
Reilly nodded, throat tight. "Yes, ma'am. She- she died in an accident. Years ago."
The room went quiet. Even Vanessa stopped breathing.
The madame held the locket for a long second. Then she looked up at Liam.
"You brought a girl with no family, no protection, into this house," she said. "And you treat her like she's furniture. Shame on you, Liam Hemsworth."
Liam's face didn't change. But his hands clenched at his sides.
The madame turned back to Reilly. Her expression softened, just a little. "Come. Sit with me. I want to hear about your mother. Not about contracts."
She wheeled herself toward the bench. Paused. "Liam. Get your wife a coat. She's shivering."
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
Reilly followed the madame instead.
Behind them, Vanessa whispered, "She won't last six months, Mother."
The madame didn't look back. "We'll see, Vanessa. We'll see."
- Writer
