Chapter 3: "Who Gave Her the Right?"

Lena's POV

She stormed in like she owned the place, all sharp edges and barely contained fury — and not a trace of grief in her eyes. No red rims, no trembling lip, nothing that might suggest she had just lost a brother. What I saw instead was calculation, the kind that had been sitting behind her eyes long before she walked through that door.

"A will?" Lauren's voice cut across the room. "She shows up out of nowhere, and now she's supposed to inherit Lambert family assets? For all we know she's already married — maybe has children. If she does, everything goes straight to outsiders."

I rose slowly from my seat. My knees were unsteady, but I made sure my back was straight when I met her gaze.

"I have never been married," I said, my voice flat and even. "I have no children."

It was a strange thing to feel in that moment — a dim, bitter flicker of gratitude toward Elliott for the lie that had ended everything between us. Because of it, I could say those words without flinching. I could stand here and mean them completely.

Lauren was thrown off only for a second. Then she pressed forward. "That's now. What about later? You'll get married eventually. And when you do, the family's assets walk right out the door with your husband."

"I have no plans to marry," I said. Not now. Not after what I had been through. I was done believing in that particular kind of story.

Something shifted in Lauren's expression — a slow, deliberate smile, the kind that meant she thought she was about to be clever. "Don't speak too soon. In families like ours, daughters have their uses. My husband has a nephew — Daniel. Respectable, successful, more than a suitable match for you. Marry him, and you'll never want for anything again. A life better than anything you could have imagined before."

"That won't be necessary," I said.

The smile on her face didn't waver, so I added, "If Daniel is as exceptional as you say, perhaps you should have your own daughter marry him instead."

The color that flooded Lauren's face was instant and complete. Her chest heaved. "You sharp-tongued little — you have no manners whatsoever. If Richard were still alive, he would never tolerate you speaking to your elders this way —"

"If they were still alive," I cut in, and I let the coldness settle fully into my voice, "I imagine the first thing they would ask you is why, while their bodies are barely cold, you are already scheming to marry off their daughter."

Lauren's mouth opened. Nothing came out. Her lips trembled with the effort of finding a response that didn't come.

I turned away from her and looked at Glew. The grief I had been holding back pressed against the base of my throat, but I kept my voice measured. "Glew, let's make arrangements for my parents. That comes first."

Glew gave a slow, heavy nod and stepped aside to make the call.

I watched the people from the funeral home take my parents away, and I didn't try to stop the tears this time. Rest now, I told them silently. I'll look after Grandmother Isabella. I promise.

It was from Glew that I learned the shape of this family — Grandfather and Isabella had raised two children: my father, Richard, and his sister, Lauren. Grandfather had died years ago, leaving Isabella to raise them alone. She had done it, and now her only son was gone. I could not imagine what that felt like, and I did not want to.

We arrived at the Lambert estate late that night. The car passed through a pair of tall wrought-iron gates, their scrollwork catching the headlights for a moment before we rolled past. The main house rose ahead of us in the dark, large and silent, its windows lit from within.

When I stepped out of the car, I found the front entrance lined with staff — but not the faces Glew expected. His expression shifted the moment he saw them.

"Where are Alex and Anna?" he asked the middle-aged woman standing at the front. "Where is the rest of the regular staff?"

The woman's face was blank and unhurried. "They were let go. They made mistakes. Lauren has placed me in charge of the household for the time being."

Glew said nothing. He walked past her without another word.

A young maid came hurrying out from a side entrance, and when she saw Glew her eyes filled with relief so sharp it was almost painful to witness. "Mr. Glew — thank God you're back. The mistress collapsed when she heard the news about the master and his wife. She's still unconscious. And Lauren — she's taken over the house. She dismissed all the senior staff while you were gone."

Glew exhaled slowly. The tightness in his jaw said everything he didn't.

The drawing room blazed with light. Lauren was settled into the main sofa with her legs crossed, a cup of tea in hand and a plate of sliced fruit on the table in front of her, occupying the seat the way someone does when they intend to stay. Her husband Jayson sat beside her, scrolling through his phone with the detached air of a man who had learned not to involve himself. In the armchair to the side sat another man — thickset, thinning hair, somewhere around thirty — who looked up the moment I walked in and let his gaze travel over me in a way that made my skin crawl.

"There you are." Lauren set her teacup down with a small, satisfied smile. "Lena, come — let me introduce you. This is Daniel. He's a vice president at the family company. You two should get to know each other."

Daniel stood and extended his hand, palm up, a practiced gesture that managed to feel both rehearsed and intrusive. "Miss Lena. I've heard so much about you. The photos didn't do you justice."

I did not take his hand. I looked at the three of them — at the comfortable ease with which they had arranged themselves in a house that was not theirs — and felt something cold and clear settle in my chest.

"I need to see my grandmother," I said, and turned toward the staircase.

"Stop right there." Lauren's voice cracked across the room. I heard the sharp knock of her palm against the side table, the rattle of porcelain. "Who gave you permission to leave? No one dismissed you. Bring her back."

Two men stepped out from the side door and moved to block the staircase before I could reach it. I took a step back and felt the banister press cold against my spine. One of them reached toward my shoulder.

"Mrs. Lauren." The young maid's voice came from the doorway, urgent and breathless. "Mr. Julian's car just came through the gate. He'll be inside any moment."

The satisfaction drained from Lauren's face.

I looked up, startled. Julian? What was he doing here at a time like this?