Chapter 3
1044 Words
That same night, Mom and I arrived at the estate under the cover of darkness. The villa was legally in Mom's name, but the butler and the entire staff had never actually met her in person. Dad had deliberately chosen this place for their little getaway—his secret reunion with Clara.
The man had serious nerve. Before we left, Dad had been all solicitous concern, texting away.
Gregory: Hawaii has amazing ocean views. Do enjoy yourselves. I'll wrap up my meetings and fly over to join you tomorrow.
He'd insisted on sending his most trusted assistant with us, framing it as a way to help with travel arrangements. Really, he was there to spy.
When Mom agreed, Dad visibly relaxed. But the second we landed at the airport, Mom signaled security to detain the assistant. After that, there was no point in keeping up the charade. We left the airport and drove straight to the estate on the edge of town. Staring at the nameplate by the villa entrance engraved with Mom's name, I felt a bitter smile tug at my lips.
For all these years, Dad had been the picture of a perfect husband—devoted to his wife, loving his children, at least to everyone on the outside. If I hadn't spotted that bracelet at the boutique shop and traced it back to Emerald Bay, I probably never would've known just how cold-hearted my father really was.
Sure enough, moments later, Dad's Porsche pulled up to the estate gates. Clara stepped out in an expensive haute couture suit with a limited-edition Cartier brooch pinned to her lapel, a radiant smile on her face.
The Bvlgari necklace around her neck caught the light, throwing off brilliant sparks. Dad helped her out of the car, and she carried herself like she owned the place. That easy, familiar intimacy between them—you couldn't fake that in a day or two. The butler and several house staff were already waiting at the front door. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth. Dinner is ready per your instructions, sir. We've turned on the heating and air conditioning in advance so you won't catch a chill, Madam."
They clearly thought Clara was the lady of the house. Clara ate up the respect, her chest puffed with pride. She handed out tips, then leaned in to whisper something in Dad's ear. Dad smiled and patted her hand tenderly. "Naturally. Only the best for you. "He leaned down and murmured something else against her ear. Clara dissolved into giggles, then playfully tapped his chest with her fist in a coy little gesture.
Pressed close together, they walked into the main villa. Mom and I watched every second of it through binoculars from the upper floor of the equestrian center across the property. I was suddenly thrown back to a few years ago, when Mom got into a car accident. A drunk driver hit her, sent her flying several feet. It was bad—there was so much blood.
They rushed her straight into emergency surgery. I called Dad over and over, frantic. His assistant picked up, stammering that Dad was out of town for an important signing, that he had no idea when my dad would be back, and that the cell reception was terrible.
I sat outside the OR all night, staring at that glowing red In Syrgert light, paralyzed with fear until dawn. The private investigator later told me that night, Clara was on her period—bad cramps. Dad's so-called "important signing" was him in her Emerald Bay apartment with a private doctor, staying by her side the entire night.
I bit down so hard on my lip I broke the skin, but I couldn't feel it. All I felt was white-hot rage building in my chest. Mom and I took the back path and slipped into the villa through the rear entrance.
Inside the dining room, their dinner was already underway. The butler poured their wine, all smiles. "Sir, Madam, I arranged for a private chef as you requested. These Australian lobsters and white truffles were flown in fresh this morning, and we've opened a bottle of aged rum from the wine cellar. Please, enjoy your meal."
Dad nodded approvingly. "You've done well." The butler, reading the room perfectly, added smoothly, "It's the least we can do, as long as Madam is pleased."
Dad raised his glass and clinked it against Clara's, his gaze warm and soft. Clara took a small sip, her cheeks flushing deeper. Every glance she threw his way dripped with dependency and smug satisfaction.
'Ridiculous. As long as she's pleased. What about Mom? What about me?'
It felt like 1,000 tiny needles were piercing my heart—a dull, relentless ache that made it hard to breathe. The butler continued, his voice carrying easily through the quiet dining room. "Mr. Ashworth is such a generous man. It's not just the estate—last winter during the cold snap, he donated a large sum in Sterling Holdings' name, and personally arranged for supplies to go to families in need nearby.
"He cares about everyday people and has such a big heart. A true model entrepreneur." The staff throughout the room nodded with admiration, murmuring quiet words of gratitude.
"Mrs. Ashworth is so lucky. What a thoughtful husband."
"And Madam seems so lovely. They're perfect for each other."
"The heiress to Sterling Holdings and a Harvard graduate—you can just tell they're on another level." The butler leaned in to serve their plates.
"That's why we all feel so fortunate to work in Mrs. Ashworth's villa, serving both of you."
Everyone around murmured in agreement, eating up every word. Dad swirled his wine glass and accepted the praise with a calm smile—the very picture of a flawless, triumphant winner.
The whole dining room hummed with a warm, pleasant atmosphere. I glanced over at Mom beside me. Her face was composed, but there was ice in her eyes.
I took her hand and squeezed it tight. She took a deep breath, gave me a small, steady smile, and led me forward.
"Honey, I didn't catch that. Who did you say is the lady of this estate? Who exactly is Mrs. Ashworth?"
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