Chapter 7
Celeste’s resentment was older than the scheme.
I had known that.
I had underestimated it.
“Our grandmother promised this house would always be partly mine.”
I stared.
“The mansion?”
“The role.”
There.
Celeste had served as hostess for years.
Dinners.
Guests.
Wives.
Staff.
The invisible social architecture around Romano power.
Then I began reducing her authority.
Not maliciously.
Practically.
Professional staff.
Separate event managers.
Direct security.
She felt herself becoming ceremonial.
“Why not tell me?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Men like you don’t hear women until something breaks.”
Fair insult.
Still no defense.
“You thought making me sick would restore your importance.”
“I thought Marco could fix what you were ruining.”
There.
Marco gave her a future.
Interim council chair.
Celeste as household authority.
Old structure restored.
“What about Anna?”
Her expression hardened.
“Anna was becoming insolent.”
“How?”
“She asked why I entered your dining room when you weren’t there.”
I almost smiled.
Questioning.
Again.
“The maid challenged you.”
“She forgot her place.”
There.
Class.
Power.
Personal resentment.
All aligned.
Celeste did not select Anna randomly.
Anna was young.
Longtime staff but not old-family staff.
A mother.
Economically dependent.
Easy to discredit.
Her damaged hands made the story easier.
Her child could be dismissed as imagination.
Perfect scapegoat.
Celeste had designed her punishment and evidence at the same time.
“What if Anna became seriously ill?”
Celeste looked away.
That answered more than words.
Not the goal.
May you like
Acceptable risk.
Sometimes indifference is colder than intention.
