Chapter 3 I'm the Bastard Child You Were Talking About
After leaving Julian breathless in the Bugatti, Elena walked alone up the winding driveway of the Ansel estate.
The wrought-iron gates, the sculpted hedges, the extravagant French-manor symmetry—it all reeked of calculated, desperate opulence. Elena swapped her heels for house slippers, her face a blank slate as a terrified maid escorted her to the third-floor elevator.
At this hour, the rest of the Ansel empire was out running the city. Only Grace Ansel and the disgraced runway bride, Audrey, were home.
The elevator doors silently parted.
Crack.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed down the gilded corridor.
"You actually dared to do this, Audrey?" Grace’s voice was pure venom, completely stripped of her high-society polish. "I thought you were in France! Instead, you’re letting some C-list actor wreck a billion-dollar merger right under my nose?"
"Ah—stop hitting me!" Audrey shrieked, stumbling backward. "The marriage falling apart just means Julian didn't want that bastard child anyway! What does it have to do with me?"
"You still dare talk back? I will beat some sense into you before your father gets home!"
Audrey bolted out of the bedroom, a blur of red designer silk, sprinting for the grand staircase.
Grace chased her, fury distorting her perfectly lifted face. "Take one more step and I will freeze every black card in your name, Audrey Ansel!"
Audrey froze instantly. "Mom! You wouldn't!"
Defeated, she trudged back toward the bedroom.
Then, she stopped.
Sunset bled through the towering arched windows, scattering molten gold across the embossed wallpaper. Standing dead center in that light was a girl in a sleeveless black silk blouse and flowing ivory skirt. Sharp bob. Cool, dead eyes. Impeccable posture.
Audrey tilted her head, her tear-stained face twisting in confusion. "Who the hell are you?"
A new maid?
No. Audrey’s eyes dropped to the stranger’s wrist.
The watch. Destiné. The limited-release masterpiece. Only three existed on the entire planet, valued at a cool hundred million, and absolutely impossible to buy unless you owned half a continent.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Audrey snapped, her voice pitching higher to cover her sudden intimidation. "Who are you?"
Grace had already noticed her.
For one breathless, terrifying second, a ghost hovered on Grace's lips.
Lillian?
No. Lillian was dead in the snow. Grace knew exactly who this was.
The maid opened her mouth to introduce the eldest daughter, but Elena cut her off.
"I'm the bastard child you were just screaming about," Elena said.
Her voice was like velvet wrapped around a razor. The slow smile that curved her lips was elegant, wicked, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Audrey stepped back, the color draining from her face. "Isla? You're Isla Ansel?"
Grace didn't flinch. Her calculating eyes swept over Elena, taking in the designer silk, the impossible watch, the terrifying stillness. From that single sentence, the matriarch understood one chilling fact: this girl was not here to play nice.
The heavy silence stretched, thick enough to choke on.
Grace broke it with a light, musical laugh. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, instantly slipping back into the flawless, welcoming stepmother.
"Isla, of course! Welcome home, darling. Where did you run off to? We’ve been waiting all day."
Grace stepped forward, reaching out with perfectly manicured hands to pull Elena into a warm embrace.
Elena shifted just a fraction of an inch. The hem of her ivory skirt rippled as she smoothly dodged the touch.
"I went to visit my mother."
Elena lifted her chin, locking her dark, bottomless eyes onto Grace’s face.
"Mrs. Ansel," Elena murmured, her voice deceptively gentle. "You were my mother's absolute best friend. Tell me... when you close your eyes at night, do you ever see her?"
Grace felt the invisible pressure immediately. A cold sweat prickled at her hairline. For a microsecond, the matriarch’s flawless composure cracked.
Then, the fake tears welled up.
"Of course I dream of her," Grace choked out, pressing a hand to her chest. "You have no idea how much I miss Lillian."
She dabbed her eyes, shooting Audrey a sharp, desperate look.
Audrey picked up the cue. "Isla, you weren't here. After Aunt Lillian passed, Mom couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. She cried every single day—"
"What makes you think I don't know that?" Elena interrupted softly.
Audrey blinked, thrown off balance. "You do?"
"Yes."
Elena took a slow, deliberate step forward, invading Grace's personal space. She reached out and casually brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from the older woman's tense shoulder.
"After my mother died, Mrs. Ansel was entirely devastated," Elena purred, her gaze tracing Grace’s pale face like a blade. "So devastated that before my mother's body had even grown cold... Mrs. Ansel married Victor Ansel with remarkable speed."
The corridor suddenly felt incredibly small. Grace couldn't breathe.
"Not only did she comfort the grieving widower," Elena continued, leaning in just a fraction closer, "but she also brought along two lovely children."
Elena tilted her head, her dark eyes flashing with absolute, lethal amusement.
"Children whose DNA just happened to match Mr. Ansel's at 99.99 percent."
Grace stopped breathing. Audrey stared in horror.
Elena let out a soft, chilling laugh.
"The stepchildren weren't stepchildren at all," Elena whispered. "They were Victor Ansel's biological children the whole time."
She stepped back, sweeping her gaze over the two frozen women.
"Congratulations."
