“She didn’t do anything!” Ethan shouted, standing in front of his brothers like a tiny soldier. “YOU DID! You and Victoria!”
“She stole—”
“LIE!” Noah cried through tears. “We saw Victoria! We were hiding under the bed! We saw her put the watch in Emily’s bag! She was smiling!”
The air vanished from Richard’s lungs.
“What…?”
“She said Emily was in the way,” Ethan continued, shaking with anger. “She said she’d send us to Switzerland so we wouldn’t bother her. She said she only wanted you and your money.”
Each word stabbed deep.
Richard searched their faces for doubt.
There was none.
“She pinches us when you’re gone,” Liam whispered, lifting his sleeve to reveal a purple bruise shaped like fingers. “She says we’re parasites. Emily is the only one who loves us. Emily smells like Mom… Victoria smells cold.”
Emily smells like Mom.
Something inside Richard shattered.
He looked at Emily—the “thief,” the “employee”—tearing her own apron to bandage his son’s hand.
She had nothing.
And she was giving them everything.
He lifted his head toward the mansion.
On the balcony stood Victoria.
Wine glass in hand. Watching. Unmoved.
When their eyes met, she closed the curtains.
Didn’t help.
Didn’t call an ambulance.