Chapter 107
ADELAIDE
Raina wouldn’t know what hit her. The thought circled in my mind like a mantra as I watched her sip the tonic, completely unaware. Adelaide. That’s who they should’ve revered, not this naive, doe–eyed woman sitting in front of me. How dare she walk in here like she owns the place?
“Thank you,
Adel
she said softly, offering a small, tired smile as she set the glass down.
I forced my lips into a smile, sweet and rehearsed, though every fiber of me itched with contempt. “Of course, Miss Raina,” I replied, my tone dripping with fake politeness. “Goodnight.”
She nodded absentmindedly, already turning her attention to the papers scattered across her desk. I stepped back, careful not to show the malice lurking beneath my composed facade, and slipped out of the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, my expression darkened. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I stalked down the hallway. That woman. That insufferable, clueless woman.
How dare she show up here and act like she runs the place? I had spent years in this house, bending over backward to ensure everything ran perfectly, taking care of the family, and enduring their condescension like some obedient dog. And now? Now they barely acknowledged my sacrifices.
“No, no,” I muttered to myself as I descended the grand staircase, each step echoing my anger. “She doesn’t deserve any of it. None of it.”
When I reached the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, my mind buzzing with the venomous thoughts I could never say aloud. Five years of carefully hiding my disdain, my jealousy, my hatred. And now, Raina was back–alive, thriving, and completely oblivious to the storm brewing around her.
I smirked bitterly, the image of her sipping the tonic replaying in my head. She thought I cared about her. That was the best part. Each sip brought her closer to her inevitable end, and she had no clue.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” I whispered, my voice low and dripping with malice. “Better yet, you should’ve died years ago.”
My lips twisted into a grim smile as I stared out the window. Soon enough, the perfect little heiress would be gone. She wouldn’t know what hit her.
Nathan had been a means to an end at first–strictly professional. That’s all it was supposed to be. He came to me with a plan, and I saw the opportunity for what it was. But those damn boyish charms of his… I hadn’t been able to resist for long. The night we spent together had been electric, the kind of passion I hadn’t felt in years.
I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering the heat of his hands on my skin, the way he whispered sweet nothings into my ear. For a brief time after that, everything seemed perfect. We were in sync, our shared goals aligning seamlessly. But then she had to come along.
Raina.
That self–righteous little princess waltzed back into the Graham family and Nathan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Now, every time I tried to reach him, he was busy–always too busy with her. And as much as I tried to
to shove the jealousy aside, it clawed its way up, leaving me seething.
The memory of our last time together resurfaced, and bile rose in my throat. I’d been completely at his mercy, wrapped in him, feeling closer to him than anyone else in years. Then it happened–his voice, deep and raw, calling out her name. Raina.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into
my palme
as the humiliation washed over me again. How dare he? How dare she? Neither of them had any right.
“She’s ruining everything,” I hissed der my breath, pacing the kitchen where I had taken refuge from my swirling thoughts. The rage was bubbling over now, spilling out into venomous mutters.
her. I swear I’ll kill her.”
The words felt right, natural, like a solution I’d been holding back for too long. I stopped pacing, glaring at the reflection of myself in the darkened
window.
“She and those little brats of hers.” My voice was barely a whisper now, tinged with madness. “Once they’re out of the picture, everything will be perfect again.”
Raina had no idea the tonic she had been drinking was laced with poison. It was subtle, slow, and devastatingly effective. The same concoction I’d been slipping into her grandfather’s drinks for five years. Five years of waiting, pretending to be the dutiful housekeeper while that stubborn old man refused to just let go.
I carried the empty tonic glass to the kitchen, setting it down with a little more force than necessary. Five years, I thought bitterly, the weight of the years pressing on me. Every day he woke up, stubbornly alive, was another day I had to smile and serve like nothing was happening. Nathan’s plan was to take care of him slowly and methodically, but honestly, I was running out of patience.
