He carried her up the grand staircase to our bedroom, barking orders at the staff to prepare her favorite ginger tea and dim the lights.
After settling Victoria, Alexander returned to the foyer where the housekeeper was informing me that my things had been moved to the basement.
He paused, watching me gather my few remaining possessions. After a moment's hesitation, he turned to the chef.
"Make sure Lauren gets something to eat tonight." Then he added coldly, "But serve it in the kitchen. Victoria doesn't want her at the dining table."
I said nothing, simply nodding as I made my way down the narrow stairs to the basement. When I opened my luggage, I discovered my clothes soaked in dark red liquid that smelled of blood.
Someone had spray-painted BARREN WASTE across my wedding photo.
The walls of my room were similarly painted with cruel messages: "DEFECTIVE WOMAN" and "CHILDLESS FAILURE."
But worst of all was the fur scattered across my belongings. I recognized it immediately—it belonged to Cassie, the aging Persian cat my brother had entrusted to me before his death.