Chapter 3
The silver bell sat beside Agatha’s chair in the formal dining room.
Small.
Polished.
Insignificant.
I had seen it a hundred times.
I thought she used it to call staff.
Apparently she used it to control my wife.
I brought Agatha into the room.
The bell remained between us.
“What happens when you ring this?”
She folded her hands.
“Service comes.”
I looked toward Maren.
She stayed near the door with one guard.
“What happens when she rings it?”
Maren swallowed.
“I go to the kitchen.”
Agatha scoffed.
“She helps.”
I stared.
“My pregnant wife leaves family dinner when you ring a bell.”
“She insisted on living in my house.”
My expression went still.
“This is my estate.”
Agatha’s jaw tightened.
“It was your father’s.”
“And now?”
Silence.
I leaned closer.
“Say it.”
“Yours.”
“Then Maren lives in her husband’s home.”
Agatha looked at her.
“She came here with nothing.”
There it was.
Not chores.
Class.
Maren’s parents owned a small hardware store in Ohio. No old name. No crews. No portraits hanging in Italian villas.
Agatha had tolerated our marriage because she assumed pregnancy would make Maren grateful and quiet.
Instead Maren remained herself.
Apparently that offended her.
I touched the bell.
“How many times did you make her miss dinner?”
Agatha shrugged.
“If she worked slowly, she ate slowly.”
Sienna’s voice came from behind me.
“Sometimes no food.”
I turned.
She had slipped from the study with one of the guards.
Maren looked devastated.
Agatha looked annoyed.
Sienna continued.
“Grandma says babies can eat from Mommy.”
The room went completely silent.
May you like
My mother had not merely controlled meals.
She had explained hunger to a three-year-old as if pregnancy made it harmless.
