Chapter 4

Audrey walked away from the locked door. Her bare feet padded softly across the plush, cream-colored Persian rug. She moved with purpose toward the massive, brightly lit vanity mirror in the corner of the suite.

She flipped the switch. The harsh, unforgiving glare of the vanity lights illuminated her face. Audrey stared critically at her reflection, her stomach churning with disgust.

She saw the thick, smudged black eyeliner smeared around her eyes like a raccoon. She saw the garish, neon pink hair extensions clipped haphazardly into her natural brunette waves. She looked down at her hands and saw the chipped, uneven black nail polish.

This was her armor of rebellion. This was the costume she wore purely to spite Barrett, to destroy her own natural elegance just because he liked it.

A wave of profound self-disgust washed over her. She realized how ridiculous, how childish she looked. She had weaponized her own appearance to hurt the only man who cared about her.

Audrey reached up and grabbed a neon pink extension near her temple. She pulled it aggressively, not caring as it snagged and ripped a few of her real hairs out by the root. She tossed the cheap synthetic hair contemptuously into the silver trash can beside the vanity.

She grabbed another, then another, ripping them out until her scalp stung and her natural hair fell freely around her shoulders.

She grabbed a bottle of expensive makeup remover and a thick cotton pad. She poured a generous amount of the clear liquid and pressed it hard against her eyelid.

With a few harsh, punishing swipes, she began scrubbing away the heavy black makeup. She rubbed until the delicate skin around her eyes turned red. The thick black sludge came off, revealing the clear, pale skin and the natural, striking shape of her eyes beneath.

Suddenly, the heavy deadbolt on the bedroom door clicked loudly. The metallic sound echoed sharply through the quiet suite.

Audrey paused her scrubbing. She turned her head as the heavy oak door slowly pushed open. Her heart leaped, expecting Barrett to have changed his mind and returned.

Instead, Arthur Fairchild stepped into the room.

The Kensington family's stoic, gray-haired butler pushed a polished silver serving cart ahead of him. Arthur's posture was rigidly professional, his spine straight as a board. His eyes were carefully averted, looking at the wall rather than at her. He was bracing himself, fully expecting her usual screaming tantrum and flying objects at being locked in.

He parked the cart near the velvet sitting area. His voice was perfectly monotone, devoid of any inflection.

"I have brought your dinner, Madam, per Mr. Kensington's orders," Arthur announced to the wall.

Audrey dropped the soiled, black-stained cotton pad onto the marble vanity. She turned fully to face the butler. Her half-cleaned face looked bizarre-one eye clear, the other still smeared with black-but her posture was completely calm.

Arthur briefly glanced up. A microscopic flicker of surprise crossed his highly disciplined features. He registered the missing pink hair and the makeup remover in her hand.

Audrey walked over to the cart. She lifted the heavy silver cloche. The rich aroma of a perfectly seared filet mignon and truffle asparagus drifted up. Her stomach rumbled softly, a sharp reminder of her living, breathing body.

She looked up at Arthur. She offered him a polite, subdued smile.

"Thank you for bringing the food, Arthur," Audrey said, her voice steady and respectful. "And I apologize for making you work at this late hour."

Arthur froze. His white-gloved hand hovered awkwardly over the handle of the cart. He was utterly unprepared for a polite response from the woman who usually threw porcelain plates at his head.

He recovered his composure quickly, bowing his head slightly. "It is my duty, Madam."

Despite his polite words, his eyes remained wary. He assessed her posture, looking for the hidden trap, the sudden explosion of rage.

Audrey decided to use Arthur as a conduit. She knew the butler reported every single detail, every word, back to his employer.

She looked Arthur dead in the eye. Her tone shifted from polite to cold and deadly serious.

"Arthur, I want to make something very clear," Audrey stated, her voice ringing with authority. "I despise Carl Santos."

Arthur blinked. The direct, unsolicited statement caught him completely off guard. His professional mask slipped for a fraction of a second, his eyebrows raising slightly.

Audrey continued, stepping closer to the cart, making sure her words carried weight.

"Carl is a parasite. I want absolutely nothing to do with him, ever again," she said loudly and clearly. "I want you to ensure Barrett hears those exact words. I know he will review your report."

Arthur regained his composure. He gave a stiff, formal nod.

"I will pass along your message, Madam," Arthur replied. His tone, however, implied a heavy dose of skepticism. He had heard her lie too many times before.

Audrey nodded, accepting his doubt. She didn't expect him to believe her instantly.

She turned back toward the bathroom. "I need a long shower," she stated over her shoulder. "I need to wash away the rest of this garbage."

Arthur watched her retreating back. His mind processed the bizarre, unprecedented interaction. He quietly backed out of the room, pulling the cart with him.

The door clicked shut. The deadbolt locked once again.

This time, Audrey didn't care. She had work to do.

She entered the luxurious marble bathroom. She turned the heavy brass handles, turning the water to the hottest setting. Steam quickly filled the large room, fogging the mirrors.

Audrey stripped off the torn emerald silk nightgown. She balled it up and tossed it aggressively into the laundry hamper. It was a symbolic shedding of her chaotic, toxic past life.

She stepped under the scalding hot water. She let it wash over her skin, scrubbing her body until it was pink. She was determined that tomorrow morning, a completely new Audrey Hayes would emerge.