Little Miss Revenge Chapter 02

Little Miss Revenge Chapter 02

Silence.

Isabella’s frown deepened. “Did she just call you ‘Dad’?” She sounded revolted. “A servant’s brat?”

Margaret dropped to her knees. “I’m so sorry, sir, madam! She’s confused—talks nonsense all the time. I’ll deal with her when we get back.”

She reached for my mouth. I shrank away.

I kept my eyes locked on Alexander’s. Silent. Stubborn. My gaze said: “I didn’t make a mistake.”

Alexander’s throat moved. He didn’t yell. Didn’t send me away. He just stared at my face—studied it—for what felt like forever.

Isabella grew impatient. “Alexander, what are you waiting for? Get her out of here! Sofia’s frightened.”

Sofia sniffled on cue. “Daddy, I’m scared. She’s so dirty.”

That snapped him back. The softness vanished. “Margaret. Take her downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Margaret grabbed me like a sack of potatoes. This time, I didn’t resist. I’d done what I came to do. The seed of doubt was planted. And Alexander was a man who trusted his own eyes.

My face was all the proof he’d need.

Margaret dragged me down the long hallway. Behind us, Isabella cooed, “Don’t worry, Sofia. Tomorrow we’ll send her away, okay?”

“Okay!” Sofia chirped.

Margaret’s step faltered. My stomach clenched.

So Sofia and Margaret had already planned this. Even at three years old.

*Not on my watch.*

Back in the dingy little room, Margaret locked the door. Her breath came in ragged, furious gasps. Then she spun around, face twisted with venom. “What do you know?”

She bent down, eyes like a gorgon’s. Any real three-year-old would’ve screamed.

I just stared back, cold with hatred.

“You listen to me, Ella,” she hissed. “From now on, you keep your mouth shut and stay in this room, or I swear you’ll never see daylight again. I’m your mother. Sofia is the real heiress. You were born to pay my debts—to serve me.”

I said nothing. Just watched her with flat, calm eyes.

That made her even angrier. She started kicking furniture.

A knock came at the door. “Margaret? You in there?”

“What?!” she snapped.

“Sir wants to see you. In the study.”

Her face went pale again. *Sir? Now?*

She jabbed a finger at me. “Stay put. Don’t you dare move.”

She left and locked the door behind her.

The room went dark and quiet. I got up, walked to the window, and pulled over a little stool. The latch was simple. I popped it open, took a breath of cool night air, and climbed out.

It would hurt to jump. But not as much as being run over by a car.

Tonight’s show was just getting started.