Chapter 4 May You Rot Together

Elena smiled brightly, as if she had just offered heartfelt congratulations.

As though she hadn't just detonated a nuclear bomb in the middle of the Ansel estate.

The silence in the corridor was absolute. The young maid, who had lingered a second too long, stood frozen against the wall.

The eldest son and Audrey... are Victor Ansel's biological children?

The maid's eyes widened. When Victor had married Grace, society had praised him as a magnanimous patriarch for adopting his new wife's children. But looking at Audrey now... the resemblance was suddenly, sickeningly obvious.

Realizing she had just heard something that could get her killed, the maid turned and fled.

Audrey finally found her voice. She was beyond shock—she was incandescent with rage.

"You're insane!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the gilded walls. "Isla Ansel, what the hell are you talking about? Did you just escape from a psych ward?"

Elena didn't look at her. She walked slowly behind Grace, resting her slender hands lightly on the older woman's tense shoulders. Through Grace, she locked her dead eyes on Audrey.

"If I remember correctly," Elena said, her voice smooth and conversational, "Mrs. Ansel's son is two years older than me. And you, Audrey, are three months older."

She paused. Let the math hang in the air like a guillotine.

"That would mean Victor Ansel and his wife's absolute best friend conceived two children before he ever married my mother."

Silence.

Then, Elena laughed. It was soft. Distorted.

She leaned down, her lips brushing just inches from Grace's ear.

"Mrs. Ansel," Elena whispered, her voice dropping into something dangerous and intimate. "May you and Victor rot together forever."

It sounded like a blessing. It felt like a curse.

Goosebumps erupted across Grace's arms. She violently shoved Elena's hands away and spun around, staring at her stepdaughter.

After a heavy beat, Grace laughed.

The flawless, grieving-friend mask finally shattered. What replaced it was sharper. Harder. For the first time, Grace looked at the twenty-two-year-old not as a nuisance, but as a predator who had just entered her territory.

"You're far more clever than your mother ever was," Grace sneered.

Crack.

The slap landed before the sentence even finished echoing.

Clean. Violent. Unhesitating.

Grace's head snapped violently to the side. Her perfectly styled hair fell loose, exposing the bright red handprint blooming across her pale cheek.

"You dare strike me?" Grace hissed slowly, her eyes wide with sheer disbelief.

Audrey simply stared. The exiled bastard had been home for less than ten minutes and had already slapped the matriarch across the face.

Elena smiled faintly, adjusting her diamond watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" Her tone was ice. "Lived half a century and still incapable of speaking like a decent human being. Shouldn't you be corrected?"

She tilted her head, her dark eyes flashing.

"Shall I just call you a whore from now on? If you can accept that title, I'll apologize. If you cannot... then consider that slap entirely deserved."

Elena stepped closer, erasing the space between them.

"Insult my mother again, and I will hit you again. Every time I see you. Until you learn your place. Or until you die."

She was still smiling. That was the most terrifying part.

For the first time in decades, Grace felt a cold spike of fear in her chest. She forced it down, straightening her posture and sliding her high-society mask back into place.

"Interesting," Grace murmured.

Elena's smile deepened. The real game had officially begun.

"Since you understand," Elena said lazily, "we'll get along beautifully."

Grace inclined her head, her voice dripping with venom. "Miss Ashford. Likewise."

"My surname is Ashford," Elena corrected smoothly. "But my name is Elena. Do try not to forget."

Audrey, however, understood none of the lethal undercurrents passing between them. She saw only her mother's humiliation.

"You threatened my mother?" Audrey snapped. "I'll kill you!"

She charged blindly, raising a hand to strike.

"Audrey—no!" Grace shouted.

Too late.

Elena caught Audrey’s wrist effortlessly out of the air. A pivot. A shift in weight.

With a clean, brutal shoulder throw, she slammed Audrey onto the marble floor. Before the girl could even gasp for air, Elena stepped forward, driving the sharp, black crystal heel of her shoe directly into Audrey's ribs.

Audrey screamed.

Grace lunged forward instinctively to protect her daughter.

Crack.

Another slap. Grace staggered back a full step, her cheek burning.

"Mrs. Ansel," Elena said lightly, not taking her foot off Audrey. "This is between her and me. Don't interfere."

And for the first time in her life, Grace Ansel hesitated.