Chapter 6 Terrence Defends Bianca

Bianca let out a light, almost teasing laugh as she stepped up beside Terrence, looping her arm through his with a deliberate sweetness that felt both playful and calculated.

"Mr. Anderson, if the staff in this house make mistakes, am I not allowed to point them out?" she asked, her tone feathered with mock innocence. "You invited me to live here… wasn't that to give me the role of lady of the house?"

Before he could answer, she pulled her hand away in a sudden flare of petulance. "If that's not the case, then maybe there's no point in me staying. What kind of 'lady' has no authority and still has to be humiliated by a bunch of outsiders?"

For the first time, Terrence realized that having a woman in the house meant even the smallest domestic squabbles could become exhausting. In the past, these petty matters had never reached his desk; now they seemed to demand his attention.

"Who in this house dares to bully you?" he asked, his voice low.

Bianca pouted, her gaze sliding away before returning to him with wounded defiance. "Isn't that exactly what's happening now? You like things spotless, so I told them to be thorough. I was doing it for you."

Her eyes flicked toward the staff gathered nearby. "And I told them—if they did their jobs well, I'd even help get them a year-end bonus. Didn't I say that?"

The servants shifted uncomfortably under her stare, their heads bowing as if the floor had suddenly become fascinating.

By now, Terrence had pieced together the sequence of events. His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "She's my fiancée. She will be the future mistress of this estate. If anything like this happens again, hand your resignation to Mr. Green."

Robert froze, realizing Terrence was speaking to him directly. "You heard him," Robert snapped at the others. "This is nothing that needs to be dragged to Mr. Anderson's attention. Go."

The study fell silent once more.

Bianca's lips curved in satisfaction. Moving behind Terrence, she began to knead his shoulders, her touch light but deliberate. "With you saying that, they won't dare look down on me again."

Terrence let her work at the tension in his muscles. For now, at least, she showed no sign of being dangerous.

Downstairs, the house was still. In the study, the two of them remained behind closed doors.

"Hello?"

In another part of the old estate, Mira answered the phone.

"This is Mr. Anderson's residence. Is there something you need?"

The voice on the other end was hushed, furtive. "Something's happened," the servant said, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. "Mr. Anderson's fiancée—Ms. Rodriguez—has moved into the house. And… well, she looks like the kind of woman who knows how to wrap men around her finger. I'm afraid she might try to seduce Mr. Anderson."

Mira sat bolt upright in bed, her grip on the phone tightening. "What did you just say? Mr. Anderson's fiancée?"

The servant quickly recounted the events in detail. By the time she finished, Mira was already swinging her legs out of bed. "I'm coming back right now."

The next morning, Bianca was pulled from sleep by the shrill ring of her phone. She blinked against the light, fumbling for it.

"Bianca, are you doing well at Mr. Anderson's place?" The voice was male, familiar, and it cut through the last haze of sleep.

"Dad?" she asked, startled. There was no warmth in her tone—only surprise.

"Bianca, you've been staying there for days. I haven't been feeling well lately. Could you come home? It's been too long since I last saw you."

She didn't answer immediately. The Rodriguez family had always been a gilded cage, and whatever passed for family affection had died years ago.

When her silence stretched, Glenn's voice softened, almost coaxing. "You don't believe me? The doctor's been here several times. If something were to happen to me… if you waited too long, you might not make it in time."

A harsh cough rattled through the line, making her chest tighten despite herself.

"…Fine. I'll come," she said at last.

She rose, chose a long dress from the wardrobe, and instructed the Anderson family driver to take her to the Rodriguez Mansion.

When the car pulled up, she stepped out, her gaze sweeping over the grand front gates without a flicker of sentiment. Inside, she found Glenn sitting comfortably on the sofa, looking perfectly healthy. A prickle of unease crept up her spine.

"Dad, what's wrong with you? What did the doctor say?"

Glenn gestured to the empty seat beside him. "If I hadn't said I was ill, would you have come back at all? You seem to be doing well at Mr. Anderson's—haven't seen you in days, and you're looking… rounder."

"I don't plan to stay long," she said flatly. "If you're fine, I'll be going."

But when she turned toward the door, two household staff stepped into her path, one on each side, blocking her way.

Her brows drew together. "What's this supposed to mean, Dad?"

"If you were truly unwell, I'd be here to take care of you. But if you've dragged me back for some other reason, just say it."

Glenn's smile was thin, his eyes studying the face that mirrored his own in subtle ways. "You've been back less than ten minutes and you're already eager to leave. I just wanted to see you, Bianca. Sometimes a father has to use… unconventional methods."

She sank into a chair opposite him, realizing she wasn't getting out quickly. "I can't stay. If I'm gone too long, Mr. Anderson will notice. He's unpredictable, and I've worked hard to earn some of his trust."

That was the opening Glenn had been waiting for. "Bianca, arranging your engagement to Mr. Anderson was the smartest decision the Rodriguez family ever made. Soon, you'll be married, and he'll be my family too. Asking him for a small favor won't be difficult."

Her stomach tightened. So this was why he'd lied about being sick—he'd been waiting for the perfect moment to corner her.

He went on, his tone almost paternal. "He's your fiancé. You've said yourself he trusts you. I'm not asking for anything illegal. The company's having some cash flow problems. All you have to do is get him to help us bridge the gap."

His eyes softened in mock affection. "Can you do that for me, Bianca?"

She met his gaze, feeling the weight of the trap closing around her. "He won't agree."

Whether Terrence would or wouldn't wasn't the point—she had no intention of dragging him into the Rodriguez family's mess.

Glenn's smile didn't falter. "How can you be so sure? You're going to marry into the Anderson family. You should be thinking about what's best for us."