When I confronted Marco, he shrugged.
“Lydia needed more space,” he said. “Your things are upstairs now. Don’t mind.”
I ground my teeth. “She already has my room. Why move her things to the guest room?”
“Stop being dramatic,” he said, walking away. “You won’t be going anywhere soon.”
Lydia appeared, belly outlined by fitted silk, eyes glittering.
“Do you like how things are now?” she asked, venom laced with honey. “This is just the beginning. Soon, the house, his name, his love—everything will be mine.”
I smiled coldly. “You’ve already taken enough.”
“Enough?” she laughed, sharp, mocking. “Marco never wanted you. You were the ladder. Now that he’s at the top, you’re nothing but rotten wood.”
Rage coiled inside me like a serpent, but before I could strike, footsteps echoed. Marco appeared.
“What’s going on here?”
Lydia’s face shifted instantly. Crocodile tears. “Marco… Isobel’s upset. I didn’t mean to… She can hurt me if it helps her heal.”
Marco’s glare cut like steel. “Isobel! Lydia has done nothing but care for you. And this is how you repay her?”
I laughed bitterly. “Care? She’s mocking me—”
“Enough!” Marco barked. “Be grateful you have a cousin like her. You don’t deserve her kindness.”
By evening, the divorce papers Piper sent were hidden in my suitcase. My pulse hammered.
“Marco,” I said, calm, placing the documents on the desk. “These are for company accounts. Piper asked me to have you handle them immediately.”
He picked up the papers. Lydia called from the hall. “Marco, come! My legs hurt.”
Without hesitation, he abandoned the papers. I pressed, voice smooth and lethal:
“She said it’s urgent. Now.”
He huffed, picked up the pen, and without a glance, scrawled his signature across the bottom.
“Happy now?” He sneered.
Yes. One step closer. One step closer to the reckoning.