Edward didn't speak. He stared at the signed agreement on his desk, his face unreadable.
"We will discuss this later," he finally said, his voice flat. "Meeting adjourned."
He stood up and walked out of the study, leaving the three women behind. It wasn't a victory, but it wasn't a defeat either. It was a retreat.
Catherine threw one last venomous look at Nora before guiding a still-sobbing Olivia out of the room. "Come, sweetheart. Let's get you some tea."
Nora was left alone. She didn't feel frustrated. She had planted the seed. Now, she just needed the right fertilizer.
Reginald, the head butler, appeared in the doorway. He was a tall, thin man with a permanent sneer disguised as a polite smile.
"This way, Miss Eleanora," he said, his tone implying she was anything but a miss. "Your quarters are ready."
He led her down a long hallway, away from the grand main wing, and into a remote side wing of the manor. He stopped in front of a small, dusty room. It was originally designed for visiting nannies, not family members.
"I trust this will be satisfactory," Reginald said, not waiting for an answer before turning on his heel.
Nora stepped inside. It was cramped, the wallpaper peeling at the edges. It was a deliberate insult.
She didn't unpack. Instead, she started walking the halls. She memorized the layout, the shifts in the floorboards, the schedules of the maids. She was surveying the fortress.
Over the next few days, she watched. She noticed how Olivia's phone lit up constantly with a specific contact-"C.S." Connor Sterling. She noticed how Olivia would smile at her phone, a sharp, possessive smile, before heading toward the main wing.
On Thursday afternoon, Nora sat in the kitchen, pretending to read a magazine. A chatty maid named Sarah was wiping down the counter.
"Miss Olivia is so happy today," Sarah said, trying to make conversation. "Mr. Connor is coming over to study."
Nora looked up. "Study? Here?"
"Yes, Miss Olivia said they need the quiet of her room to focus," Sarah giggled.
Nora smiled inwardly. There it was. The opening.
She stood up. "Sarah, I'm heading into town to the library. I might be late. Please let Reginald know so he doesn't lock the side door."
"Of course, Miss Eleanora."
Nora left the house. She walked to the nearby park, sat on a bench, and pulled out her tablet. She spent the afternoon reading up on corporate law and modern surveillance tech. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the grass.
At dusk, she walked back. She didn't use the front door. She used the small service entrance near the garden, a door she had discovered during her reconnaissance.
She slipped inside like a shadow. The house was quiet. Dinner was over.
Instead of going to her cramped room, she climbed the back stairs to the second floor. She walked down the carpeted hallway to the room that had originally been assigned to her-the guest room near Olivia's suite.
The door was ajar. A sliver of warm light spilled into the dark hallway.
Nora stopped, listening.
"I can't believe she just gave up," Connor's voice drifted out, laced with amusement. "Your little country bumpkin sister is pathetic."
Olivia laughed, a soft, intimate sound. "What could she do? She has nothing. She is nothing compared to me."
Nora didn't push the door open. She didn't scream or cry. That was for amateurs.
She turned around, her footsteps silent on the thick rug, and walked back down the stairs to the first floor.
She stopped in front of the study door. Light spilled from underneath it. Edward was still working.
She knocked. Three sharp raps.
"Come in," Edward called, sounding tired.
Nora opened the door and stepped inside. She twisted her fingers together, putting on a mask of confused innocence.
"Father, I'm sorry to bother you," she said softly.
Edward looked up from his papers, surprised to see her. "What is it, Eleanora?"
"I went to my room to get my luggage," Nora said, her voice trembling slightly. "But... there are sounds coming from inside. It sounds like Olivia... and a man. I didn't want to just walk in."
Edward's pen stopped moving. "A man?"
"Yes," Nora whispered, looking down at her feet. "I didn't know what to do. It seemed... improper."
Improper. The word hit Edward like a physical blow. In his world, impropriety was a stain that couldn't be washed out.
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Stay here."
He marched past her out of the study. Nora followed, keeping a safe distance, her face a picture of worried obedience.
Edward took the stairs two at a time. Nora trailed behind, watching his back stiffen with every step.
He reached the guest room door. The sounds were clearer now-laughter, the rustle of fabric, a low murmur.
Edward didn't knock. He grabbed the handle and shoved the door open.
The room froze.
Olivia was sitting on the bed, her blouse unbuttoned at the top, leaning close to Connor, who had his arm wrapped around her waist. They looked like deer caught in headlights.
Connor jumped back, his face turning pale. "Mr. Beaumont! I... we were just..."
Olivia scrambled to button her shirt, her eyes wide with panic. "Dad! It's not what it looks like!"
Edward's face was like stone. His eyes moved from Olivia's flushed cheeks to Connor's guilty stance. The air in the room turned frigid.
"Get out," Edward said to Connor. His voice was dangerously quiet.
Connor didn't argue. He grabbed his jacket and practically ran out of the room, brushing past Nora in the hallway without a second glance.
Edward turned his glare on Olivia. "My study. Now."
Olivia walked past him, head bowed, tears already starting to fall.
Nora stood in the hallway, watching them disappear down the stairs. She felt a sense of profound satisfaction. It was clean. It was efficient. She hadn't lifted a finger.
An hour later, there was a knock on Nora's small, dusty door.
It was Reginald, looking like he had swallowed a lemon. Behind him, two footmen carried her luggage.
"Miss Eleanora," Reginald said, his voice clipped. "Mr. Beaumont has instructed that you be moved to the master suite immediately. Please follow me."
Nora smiled politely. "Of course, Reginald. Lead the way."
She walked into the master bedroom ten minutes later. It was magnificent. High ceilings, a view of the sprawling estate, and a massive four-poster bed. It smelled like power and old money.
She waited until the footmen left, then locked the door. She walked to the antique dressing table and began to open the drawers, checking her new domain.
In the bottom drawer, hidden beneath a stack of outdated fashion magazines, her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic.
She pulled it out. It was an old, digital voice recorder. It looked like the kind of thing someone might use for notes or memos, then carelessly toss aside.
She pressed the power button. The screen stayed dark. Dead battery.
Nora stared at the device, a slow smile spreading across her face. She plugged it into her charger and sat back to wait.
