I looked at him, my voice steady but edged with challenge. “So… you choose her, right?”
His thin lips pressed together, cold and unyielding, his gaze locked on mine.
Suddenly, Kristen stepped in front of me, head lowered, her voice quiet but sincere.
“Ma’am, you’ve misunderstood me and George.”
“He’s young, promising, looks like a movie star. Just being linked to me, it already feels like I’m sullying him.”
“I’m divorced, with five sons. No man would ever want me… what could they possibly want from me?”
Her low-cut maid outfit hugged her curves, black stockings tracing the length of her long legs.
My mind drifted to that out-of-place pillow in George’s study, the maid on it looked almost exactly like Kristen.
And the wallpaper on his phone, the one he’d kept for years, it was probably an anime version of her.
I sneered, eyes sharp as I stared at George. “Kristen is asking what you want from her.”
“Let me guess. You want her looks, her figure? You want her fragile, pitiful demeanor?”
I paused, letting the words hang, heavy with accusation.