Gregory kept his gaze unfocused, jaw slack, playing the role perfectly. Inside, his anger roared like the storm outside. Still, he waited. The truth was only useful when revealed at the right moment.
The door opened quietly.
Teresa, the housemaid, stepped in carrying one of the Kensington twins in her arms while the other clung to her hand. She was in her early twenties, with tired eyes and a uniform worn from constant use. She had started working in the mansion to support her grandmother, who needed expensive medication. Teresa never complained, never raised her voice, yet her heart was braver than anyone in the house.
“Mrs. Kensington,” Teresa said gently. “The boys heard shouting. They were frightened. They wanted to see their father before bed.”
Bianca turned sharply, her expression twisting.
“I told you never to bring them here,” she snapped. “These children are not my responsibility. Take them away.”
The twins looked at their father, confused and afraid. Teresa shifted her weight, trying to keep her voice calm.
“Sir needs peace,” she said. “If there is anger, it should be taken elsewhere. This room is for healing.”
Bianca stepped forward, lowering her voice into a hiss.
“You are a maid. Do not lecture me in my own house. Once he signs tomorrow, none of you will remain here. Not you, not the children, not the useless man in this bed.”
Teresa flinched but did not move away. She bent down and kissed the twins’ foreheads before guiding them toward the door. As it closed, the room felt colder.
Teresa returned alone moments later. She took a cloth and wiped Gregory’s forehead with gentle care, then adjusted his pillow.
“I am sorry, sir,” she whispered. “No one deserves this. I will not let harm come to you or the boys. I promise.”
Gregory wanted to speak, to reassure her, to tell her that he heard everything, but he stayed still. The time was not yet right.
Downstairs, Bianca descended the grand staircase, pulling her phone from her purse. She dialed quickly, her voice syrupy sweet.
“Peter,” she said. “Bring the notary tonight. I do not want to wait until morning. Once the papers are signed, everything becomes ours.”
On the other end, Peter Walsh laughed. He was Gregory’s former business associate, a man with slick hair and greed carved deep into his bones.
“I will be there in thirty minutes,” he replied. “Congratulations, my dear. You chose the right moment to act.”