Chapter 2

The Legacy Gala was hours away, and Eleanor' s old injury throbbed, a dull, insistent pain. Sarah Jenkins, her loyal housekeeper, was gently massaging the muscle.

"That Tiffany Hayes," Sarah said, her voice low, "she' s a piece of work, if you ask me."

Eleanor offered a small smile, "Michael sees something in her."

"He sees what she wants him to see, Mrs. Vance," Sarah replied, her hands still working. "I heard her outside earlier, with her friends."

Outside, near the main path but too close to Eleanor' s quiet cottage, voices carried, sharp and unpleasant.

"Honestly, can you believe Michael lets some vagrant squat on the estate?" It was a young woman' s voice, dripping with disdain. Tiffany Hayes.

Another giggled, "I heard she' s some crazy old relative they hide away. Spreading rumors, apparently. Michael should just clear out the trash."

Eleanor' s brow furrowed, concern etching lines on her face. Rumors? About whom?

The voices grew louder, more agitated.

"It' s just an eyesore, this whole section. When I' m mistress here, things will change," Tiffany declared.

Eleanor pushed herself up, leaning on her cane. "Sarah, I think I should see what this commotion is about."

"Mrs. Vance, maybe it' s best to stay inside," Sarah advised, worried.

But Eleanor was already moving towards the door. She wouldn' t have such talk, such ugliness, so close to her home. She stepped onto her small porch.

Tiffany and her two friends, dressed in expensive casual wear that looked out of place in the rustic setting, turned at the sound of the door.

Tiffany' s eyes, cold and assessing, swept over Eleanor. Eleanor wore a simple dress, her grey hair neatly tied back. She was, to Tiffany, utterly insignificant.

"Well, well," Tiffany said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Speak of the devil. You must be the problem."