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Chapter 679:
And if she could make Cole believe it, perhaps she could make Eleanor believe it too. Or at least make Eleanor believe that Alycia was useful. That keeping her close was safer than casting her out.
The carโs GPS showed twenty miles to the estate. Alycia adjusted her sunglasses, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, and practiced the expression she would wear.
Grief. Vulnerability. The desperate courage of a woman who had lost everything but refused to be broken.
She had played this role before. She would play it again.
And this time, she would not fail.
N๐ฒ๐ ๐๐พ๐ฆ๐ธl๐บ ๐ผ๐ต๐ขั๐ตer๐ ๐ฐ๐ป
The gates of the Compton estate opened without hesitation, which surprised her.
Alycia had expected delay, interrogation, perhaps outright refusal. She had prepared arguments, pleas, the threat of public scandal if she were turned away. But the security guard simply nodded, checked her name against a list she had not known she was on, and waved her through.
She drove slowly up the winding drive, her heart rate accelerating despite her practiced calm. Something was wrong. Something had changed. The ease of her entry felt less like welcome and more like the jaws of a trap, already sprung, simply waiting for her to step inside.
Mrs. Lynch met her at the door. The housekeeperโs expression was unreadable, her eyes flat and dark as river stones.
They walked through corridors Alycia had walked before, when she had believed herself on the verge of becoming mistress of all she surveyed. The house seemed different nowโlarger, colder, the luxury more ostentatious and less welcoming. Or perhaps she was different. Perhaps she could no longer pretend that marble and gilt could substitute for security, for belonging, for love.
The solarium occupied the east wing of the house, a glass-walled room that caught the morning light and held it, warm and golden, above the dark Atlantic. Eleanor Compton sat in a wicker chair near the windows, wrapped in a cashmere shawl that probably cost more than Alyciaโs car, her hands folded around a cup of tea that steamed gently in the cool air.
She did not stand when Alycia entered. She did not turn her head.
โSit,โ she said. โIf you must p>
Alycia sat. The wicker chair creaked beneath her, a sound that seemed loud in the silence. She placed her hands on her knees, her bag at her feet, and waited for the old woman to acknowledge her existence.
Eleanor sipped her tea. Set the cup down. Finally, she turned to look at Alycia with eyes that were sharp and clear and utterly without mercy.
โYou have thirty seconds,โ Eleanor said. โAfter which I will call security and have you removed. I suggest you use them wisely p>
Alycia had prepared a speech. She had rehearsed it in the car, refining each phrase for maximum emotional impact, each pause for dramatic effect. Now, facing the reality of Eleanorโs contempt, she found that the words had scattered, leaving only the raw truth of her desperation.