Chapter 5: The Silver Bracelet

The cook and I were thrown to the ground.

It hurt quite a bit. The marble was cold, and my shoulder throbbed from the impact. I caught my breath, struggling to sit up as my head spun.

After a wave of dizziness, I took in my surroundings.

In front of the luxurious sitting room, the curtains swayed gently, and on the golden chaise lounge at the front reclined a graceful woman. The air smelled faintly of gardenias and something sharper—maybe gin. The golden sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes, making dust motes dance in the air.

"Mrs. Reynolds, the people have been brought."

The supervisor reported, then withdrew.

Mrs. Reynolds slowly rose from the chaise, lifting the curtain with her hand. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate, like she was used to being the center of attention.

The cook was so terrified she trembled, not daring to raise her head.

I knew that looking directly at Mrs. Reynolds was against the rules, but I couldn’t help myself.

I wanted to see what my daughter looked like now that she was grown.

I looked up.

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful—her skin like porcelain, her brows perfectly arched—but in her lovely green eyes was an indescribable coldness…

She lowered her gaze to meet mine and smiled faintly. "You’re quite bold."

"Someone, get her out of my sight. If she looks at me like that again, she won’t see daylight."

I was stunned, drawing a sharp breath of disbelief. My hands gripped the hem of my skirt to steady myself, heart pounding so loud I could hardly hear.

The cook, frightened, quietly edged away from me, terrified of being implicated. She shuffled on her knees, barely breathing.

Suddenly, Mrs. Reynolds laughed.

She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, laughing heartily. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of the young Savannah in her. It flashed in her eyes, in the tilt of her chin, and I felt a sharp ache in my chest.

But it vanished in an instant. Mrs. Reynolds stopped laughing and sighed, "Why are you so easily frightened? Look at you, your face is pale as a sheet."

Her tone shifted as she asked, "Did you make the lemon pound cake?"

I thought for a moment, then replied, "Yes."

She nodded thoughtfully, her fingers with bright red nails tapping lightly. Each tap felt deliberate, a quiet warning.

"Someone, drag her out and fire her."

The cook collapsed to the floor, staring blankly at Mrs. Reynolds.

Mrs. Reynolds tilted her head. "This time, I’m not joking."

Two security guards quickly stepped forward, grabbed the cook by the arms, and dragged her away. Her shoes scraped the floor, and her cries echoed down the hall, desperate and raw.

All the way, the cook’s cries for mercy echoed, shrill and desperate.

Mrs. Reynolds sat on the chaise, picking up a grape and peeling it slowly. I heard her ask me in a casual tone, "Do you know why she lost her job?"

I frowned. "Because she failed to serve you well."

Mrs. Reynolds let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"Because she didn’t know who her true boss was."

As she spoke, footsteps sounded outside the room.

A maid in green led in the family doctor, who kept his eyes lowered as he checked Mrs. Reynolds’ pulse. The click of his medical bag on the table was the only sound in the room for a moment.

I glanced over, my thoughts in turmoil.

She was ill?

"Most of the poison in Mrs. Reynolds’ body has been eliminated. With proper care, she will soon recover fully."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Their voices were faint; I couldn’t catch every word.

I could only kneel quietly in the corner. My knees ached against the hard floor, but I stayed perfectly still.

After a while, the green-robed maid saw the doctor out.

Mrs. Reynolds lifted the curtain and came out, stopping in front of me.

"What is your name?"

"Allison…"

"Allison…" she repeated softly.

After a long pause, she said, "Go. I am tired."