Page 73 of Inheritance
We stepped into the hall and headed down the main staircase.
At the base of the stairs, Isabelle had two men cornered near an archway. Both were built like security—broad-shouldered and clearly uncomfortable. She wasn’t yelling. Just talking low and fast, arms folded, chin tilted. Whatever she was saying made one of them nod too much, the other not at all.
Then her eyes slid past them and landed on us.
She threw her hands up, “There you are.”
No smile. No welcome. Just a mild kind of relief, like we were pieces she’d accounted for but hadn’t had time to fetch.
She started walking and we fell in step beside her.
The estate didn’t look like itself. Lights shined brighter, washing the halls in gold. Furniture had been shifted out of place, men carried boxes through the corridors, voices low as they worked. The house felt less like a home and more like a stage being built around us.
We reached the double doors that led outside. They stood open, spilling daylight across the floor.
Isabelle froze. Her gaze cut toward the doors, a flick of her eyes and a single beat of silence.
“What is this?”
A crew was already setting up lights and potted trees in tight rows. One of them was halfway through mounting a speaker on an outer column.
The man on the ladder looked down. Blinked. “Ma’am?”
Her voice didn’t rise. “No one is setting foot outside. The courtyard isn’t part of the event.” She paused. “The only way people get in or out is through the front door. Don’s orders.”
He nodded quickly and scrambled down, already reaching for his radio.
“Move everything inside.” She shouted into the courtyard.
A faint silence stretched as we kept walking. The sound of our heels tapped low across the floor, echoing more than it should have. She was angry, and I did not want to end up on the receiving end of that.
Caroline glanced sideways at me. “Are you scared?”
I slowed slightly. “Why would I be scared?”
She shrugged, arms crossed again. “You’re going to be paraded around. Everyone will want to meet you. You’re kind of… central to this whole thing.”
I frowned. “How so?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted to a pair of workers carrying gold-rimmed platters into the main hall. She waited until they passed.
“Gabriel’s bringing you. It’s a show of strength. He’s next in line, and having a wife makes things look stable. You’re not just some girl on his arm. You. And everyone who matters knows what you did.”
I stared ahead. The hallway bent in the distance, and I focused on the floor like it could anchor me.
“I’m not his wife, I?—”
She giggled. “All the old men will probably bow or kiss your hand or some dramatic shit.”
I gave her a look.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Half of them are old money. You have no idea how weird they are.”
I didn’t answer. The air had shifted—warmer, heavier. I adjusted the strap of my dress even though it hadn’t moved. Isabelle was ten steps ahead now, still moving briskly down the hall, and I still didn’t even know what she wanted us for.
Caroline’s hand brushed mine. Then she grabbed it and tugged. Hard.
“Hey—”
