Chapter 7

Arthur stepped fully out of the shadows of the hallway. His posture was impeccable, his gray suit perfectly tailored. His eyes flicked briefly to the pale, trembling Jasmin before settling respectfully on Audrey.

Audrey walked over to a heavy mahogany console table near the stairs. She pulled open the top drawer and retrieved a piece of heavy, embossed Kensington estate stationary and a gold fountain pen.

Without looking up, she began writing rapidly. Her memory was flawless. The nib of the pen scratched aggressively against the thick paper as she listed every high-value item she had ever purchased for Jasmin over the past three years.

Jasmin watched the pen move. The scratching sound was like a death knell for her social life. Tears of genuine, unadulterated panic finally welled in her eyes, spilling over her heavily mascaraed lashes.

She took a desperate step toward Audrey. Her voice cracked, losing all its previous fake sweetness.

"Audrey, please," Jasmin begged, her hands clasping together. "You can't do this. I need those bags! I have the Met Gala after-party next month. What am I supposed to wear?"

Audrey didn't even pause her writing. Her hand moved swiftly across the page. Her voice was icy and entirely devoid of sympathy.

"You can carry a canvas grocery tote for all I care," Audrey stated flatly.

Audrey finished the list with a sharp, decisive flourish. She capped the gold pen with a loud click and handed the detailed, two-page inventory to Arthur.

Arthur took the list. His eyes scanned the incredibly detailed descriptions. Audrey had listed leather types, hardware colors, and specific carat weights. His respect for Audrey's newly revealed meticulousness grew slightly. This was not the work of a hysterical woman; this was a calculated repossession.

Audrey looked Arthur directly in the eye.

"Take a security detail," Audrey instructed, her voice ringing with authority. "Escort Ms. Parsons to her apartment. Retrieve every single item on this list."

She took a step closer to Arthur, adding a cold, loud caveat meant specifically for Jasmin's ears.

"If any item is missing, damaged, or 'lost'," Audrey said, quoting Jasmin's earlier lie, "you are to immediately contact the NYPD grand larceny division on my behalf. Have her arrested on the spot."

Jasmin let out a strangled, ugly sob. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to grab the edge of a chair to stay upright. She realized Audrey was absolutely serious. There was no manipulation tactic that could save her now.

Arthur nodded crisply. He folded the heavy stationary and slipped it into his breast pocket. His professional demeanor adopted a distinct, intimidating edge.

He turned to Jasmin. He gestured toward the massive front double doors with a white-gloved hand. His voice was devoid of any warmth.

"If you would please follow me, Ms. Parsons," Arthur requested. It was not a question.

Jasmin shook her head frantically. She refused to move. She looked at Audrey with a toxic mixture of hatred and sheer desperation. She decided to play her final, pathetic card.

"You do this, and I'll tell Carl you've gone completely insane," Jasmin hissed, stepping closer and dropping her voice so only Audrey could hear. "I'll make sure he never trusts a word you say again. Who do you think he'll believe, Audrey? You, or me?"

Audrey laughed. It was a sharp, humorless sound that cut through the tension in the room.

"Call him," Audrey said, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Call him right now. And tell him he's next on my list."

Arthur recognized that the conversation was entirely over. He didn't wait for Jasmin to move. He signaled with a sharp, subtle nod of his head to the two massive estate security guards flanking the front doors.

The guards stepped forward simultaneously. Their sheer size and bulk cast long, intimidating shadows over Jasmin. They didn't speak. Their presence was an unspoken, overwhelming physical threat.

Jasmin shrank back. Her bravado shattered completely. She was terrified of the silent, towering men in black suits.

Arthur gestured toward the door again. This time, Jasmin didn't argue. She practically scurried out the front doors, her head bowed in defeat, her designer heels clicking erratically on the marble.

Through the open doors, Audrey watched the scene unfold on the driveway. Jasmin was not directed toward her usual luxury sedan. Instead, she was unceremoniously directed into the back of a blacked-out, heavy-duty Kensington security SUV.

Arthur got into the passenger seat. The heavy doors slammed shut with a solid thud. The SUV sped down the long, winding driveway of the estate, kicking up gravel.

Audrey stood alone in the quiet foyer. She took a deep, cleansing breath. A profound sense of satisfaction washed over her. She had excised the first parasitic tumor from her life.

Eleanor, the head housekeeper, stepped forward from the dining room. She held a silver tray with a crystal glass of sparkling water. She offered it to Audrey with newfound caution and respect.

Audrey took the glass. "Thank you, Eleanor," she said politely.

She took a sip of the cold water as she surveyed the grand foyer. Her eyes landed on a massive, garish neon-and-chrome sculpture she had placed near the stairs a year ago, purely to irritate Barrett's minimalist tastes.

Audrey's lip curled in deep distaste. Now that she was cleaning house, she decided the physical environment needed a massive purge as well.

She turned to Eleanor. Her voice was authoritative but polite.

"Eleanor, please gather the staff," Audrey instructed.

"Yes, Madam. What are your orders?"

"I want you to remove every piece of modern, avant-garde art I brought into this house," Audrey ordered. "The neon sculptures, the zebra-print rugs, the abstract paintings. Move it all to the basement storage immediately. I want this house restored to its original state by the time my husband gets home."

Eleanor's eyes widened in surprise. But she quickly nodded, a distinct hint of relief shining in her eyes. She hurried off to execute the order, leaving Audrey to supervise the cleansing of her home. Once the order was given, a wave of profound exhaustion hit her. She leaned heavily against the cool marble of the staircase, her legs trembling slightly under the cashmere skirt. One enemy down. A hundred more battles to fight. She closed her eyes for just a second, allowing herself to feel the crushing weight of her reality before forcing her spine straight again.