Chapter 4 - The Poison in the Family Tree
The study was dark, illuminated only by the green shaded lamp on Alexander’s massive mahogany desk.
Eleanor sat in one of the leather armchairs, her hands folded over her designer handbag. Charlotte stood by the window, her back to the room, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. Julian had been dismissed, sent away to his own quarters like a misbehaving child, though everyone knew he would be listening at the door if he could.
Therese, the French maid, stood in the center of the room, weeping softly into a lace handkerchief.
"I had no choice, Monsieur," Therese sobbed, her French accent thick with terror. "Madame Eleanor told me I would be dismissed without a reference if I did not put the bracelet in the coat. My sister is sick in Lyon... I need this job. Please, Monsieur Alexander, I have worked for your family for fifteen years!"
"Fifteen years of loyalty wiped out by one act of malice," Alexander said, sitting behind his desk. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes deepening in the lamplight. "You will pack your things tonight, Therese. My office will wire you a three-month severance package—not for your sake, but for your sister’s. If I ever see you near my children or my property again, I will ensure the Metropolitan Police prosecute you to the absolute limit of the law."
Therese nodded frantically, mumbled a tearful "Merci," and practically fled the room.
The heavy oak door clicked shut.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking onto his mother. "Why, Mother? Why Grace?"
Eleanor lifted her chin, her pearls gleaming. "She is a danger to this family, Alexander. She is an interloper. A common girl from the estates who has managed to worm her way into your daughters' lives. Have you seen the way she looks at you? Have you seen the way she behaves as if she owns the nursery?"
"She is a physical therapist, Eleanor," Charlotte’s voice cut in from the window. She turned around, her eyes cold and mocking. "And she is doing what you and I never could. She is making Iris walk."
Alexander’s head snapped toward his wife. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew," Charlotte said, walking over to the desk and leaning against the edge, her emerald dress rustling. "I’m her mother, Alexander. Even if I spend most of my time at the townhouse in Chelsea, I still read the nanny's logs. Grace has been working with her in secret for months. Behind your back. Behind the doctors' backs."
"Why in secret?" Alexander demanded.
"Because your highly paid, highly decorated specialists from Harley Street told us that trying to force Iris to walk would cause permanent joint damage," Charlotte said, her voice dropping its mocking tone, replaced by a bitter, sharp edge. "They wanted her in braces. They wanted her in a customized wheelchair. They wanted us to accept that our daughter was a cripple because it made their medical bills more predictable."
"And Grace disagreed," Alexander murmured.
"Grace said the specialists were wrong," Eleanor hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "She said they were treating the symptoms of a mild motor delay as if it were a permanent neurological collapse. She was risking your daughter’s safety for her own professional vanity! If Iris had fallen, if she had broken a bone—"
"She took five steps yesterday, Mother," Alexander said.
The words fell like lead weights into the quiet room.
Eleanor froze. Charlotte’s eyes widened, her lazy indifference vanishing in an instant.
"What did you say?" Charlotte whispered.
May you like
"I watched the nursery camera feed from my hotel room in New York," Alexander said, his voice raw with emotion. "Iris walked. Five steps. No braces. No support. She walked straight into Grace's arms."
He stood up, towering over his wife and his mother. "My mother tried to ruin a woman’s life because she was actually helping my daughter. And my wife... my wife knew about it and did nothing because she was too busy negotiating her alimony payments."
