Chapter 7: Things She Shouldn't know

I left for my bedroom immediately so that I wouldn't get caught eavesdropping.

I didn't sleep.

I lay in bed beside Adrian, listening to the grandfather clock in the hall strike the hours. One o'clock, two, three. My mind wouldn't stop circling around Margaret's words, around Vanessa's soft voice asking if Adrian would accept. Around the question of what exactly Margaret was planning him to accept.

By the time morning light filtered through the curtains, I'd made a decision. I needed to watch. To observe. To find the cracks in whatever this was before it consumed everything.

Breakfast was laid out in the dining room when I came downstairs. Adrian was already there, reading the newspaper with a cup of tea at his elbow. But it wasn't the cup I'd prepared for him the way he liked it, with two sugars and barely any milk. This cup was darker, stronger. The way someone else apparently knew he preferred it.

My chest tightened as I watched him take a sip without even noticing the difference.

Vanessa entered moments later, wearing a pale pink dress that somehow managed to look elegant and vulnerable at once. She smiled at Adrian, and the smile lingered just long enough to make my skin prickle.

"Good morning," she said softly. "How did you sleep?"

Adrian lowered his newspaper. "Well enough. You?"

"Very well, thank you for asking," she said, settling into the chair directly across from him. Not next to me. Not down the table. Directly across from him, where they could maintain eye contact.

I pulled out my chair and sat down, watching them. Watching the way Vanessa's eyes found his. Watching the way Adrian seemed to relax in her presence.

Margaret appeared next, dressed impeccably as always, and took her seat at the head of the table. She poured herself tea with deliberate slowness, and I saw her eyes move between Adrian and Vanessa with something like satisfaction.

"Vanessa, did you try the lavender sachets I put in your room?" Margaret asked, her voice warm with genuine affection. An affection I'd never heard directed at me.

"They were lovely, thank you," Vanessa said, her eyes briefly touching Adrian's before returning to Margaret. "So thoughtful of you."

I watched Adrian's reaction. He wasn't looking at Vanessa, but his shoulders had relaxed. He was comfortable with her presence. How was he comfortable with her?

"I do what I can," Margaret said, buttering her toast with precision. "A guest should feel welcomed, don't you think, Adrian?"

"Of course," Adrian said, but I heard the tension in his voice. He knew what his mum was doing. And he was allowing it anyway.

I picked up my teacup and took a sip. The liquid was cold. When had I poured it? How long had I been sitting here, watching?

"Vanessa was just telling me something she saw on your body," Margaret said, her eyes lighting up in a way that made my stomach drop. "Apparently you had quite the accident when you were younger."

Adrian set down his newspaper slowly. "What do you mean?"

"That scar on your lower back," Vanessa said, her voice gentle and casual, as if she was simply making conversation. "You got it from falling right? That must have been painful."

The room went very quiet.

Adrian's hand froze. His jaw clenched. When he spoke, his voice was careful, controlled, but I could hear the edge underneath.

"How did you know that it was from a fall?" he asked Vanessa directly.

"I... I don't know," Vanessa said, but her eyes flickered away from his for just a moment. "I just suspected that it must have been from falling off somewhere.”

"Hmm," Adrian said flatly. His eyes were fixed on her now, and I could see him calculating, trying to understand. 

"I'm sorry,” she said quietly, her voice small and apologetic. “I didn't mean to upset anyone.”

“It's fine,” Adrian said.

The breakfast continued in uncomfortable silence after that. Margaret chattered about inconsequential things, the weather, social plans, gossip about family friends. But I barely heard her. My mind was fixed on one question: How close has Vanessa been looking at my husband?

That night, I couldn't settle. My mind wouldn't stop circling, wouldn't stop questioning. I wandered the corridors of Hale Mansion like a ghost, my footsteps muffled on the thick carpeting. The house felt different at night. 

As I passed the guest wing, I noticed a faint light beneath Vanessa's bedroom door. The glow was warm, golden, like candlelight or the screen of a phone.

Every instinct told me to return to my room, to stop this obsessive investigation before I found something that would destroy me completely.

But I stopped.

And then I heard her voice, soft and careful, speaking into the darkness.

"No... Adrian still doesn't remember me."

My breath caught in my throat. I pressed myself against the wall, my hand covering my mouth to stifle my breathing.

"After all these years, he still has no idea who I really am."