Chapter 3 3

The kitchen went dead silent. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the shallow breathing of the Barnes family.

"That's mine!" Mia shrieked, lunging forward. "That's the real one!"

Ophelia didn't flinch. She pressed the button.

The machine roared to life, a mechanical growl that shook the floorboards. Ophelia opened her hand. The necklace dropped.

It vanished into the darkness of the chute.

CRUNCH.

The sound was sickening. Metal twisting, stone shattering against steel gears. It was a high-pitched scream of destruction.

Mia skidded to a halt, her hands covering her mouth. Susan looked like she was going to faint. Richard's face drained of all color.

Ophelia dusted her hands off, as if she had just taken out the garbage. She hit the stop button. The roaring died down to a whir, then silence.

"Since it was stolen property," Ophelia said, her voice cool and conversational, "I figured it was best to destroy the evidence. For everyone's sake."

"You... you crazy bitch!" Mia screamed, tears springing to her eyes. She ran to the machine, peering into the black abyss, seeing only glints of twisted metal dust.

Ophelia turned to Richard. He was shaking.

"You took the check back," Ophelia said, stepping closer to him. He instinctively took a step back. "Consider the necklace my payment."

"You're insane," Richard whispered. "Get out of my house."

"Gladly."

Ophelia grabbed her suitcase handle. "From this moment on, I, Ophelia Vance, have nothing to do with the Barnes family."

"You'll starve!" Susan yelled after her, finding her voice. "You'll come crawling back when you realize you're nothing!"

Ophelia pushed open the heavy oak front door. The sunlight hit her, bright and blinding. She took a deep breath of fresh air. It tasted like freedom.

She walked down the stone steps to the driveway.

A car was pulling in.

It was a black Rolls Royce Phantom. But it looked like it had been through a war zone. The front bumper was hanging by a literal thread of duct tape. The side panels were scraped raw, the paint stripped away to reveal grey steel. There were bullet holes-actual bullet holes-pockmarking the rear fender.

The Barnes family had spilled out onto the porch to watch her leave.

Mia let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Oh my god! Look at that piece of junk! That's your ride?"

"Did they pull that out of a scrap heap?" Susan cackled. "It fits you perfectly, Ophelia. Trash for trash."

Richard shook his head, a smirk touching his lips. "Pathetic."

The car rolled to a stop in front of Ophelia. Dust billowed up, making Mia cough and wave her hand in front of her face.

The driver's door groaned open.

An old man stepped out. He was wearing a tuxedo that cost more than Richard's car, though it was dusty at the hem. His white hair was perfectly coiffed. He walked around the front of the battered car with the dignity of a king.

He stopped in front of Ophelia. He took off his white driving glove.

And then, he bowed.

It wasn't a nod. It was a deep, ninety-degree bow, held for a respectful three seconds.

"Miss Pennington," Arthur said, his voice booming across the driveway. "My deepest apologies for the delay."

The laughter on the porch died instantly. It was as if someone had cut the audio cord.

"Miss... what?" Mia whispered.

Susan frowned, squinting. "Who is that actor?"

Ophelia reached out and gently touched Arthur's arm. "Arthur, please. The car... what happened?"

Arthur straightened up, looking ashamed. "We encountered a minor blockade on the interstate. I had to... insist on passing. I've already cleared our route with the state police; there will be no inquiries."

"I see," Ophelia said. She glanced at the bullet holes. "Hard insistence."

"Indeed, Miss." Arthur moved to the back door.

The Barnes family stood frozen, their brains trying to reconcile the image of the impeccable butler with the wrecked car and the girl they had just kicked out.