Stephen's Costly Mistake

I noticed Pearl's eyes following me across the kitchen, her gaze lingering on my midsection with narrowed suspicion. The morning sickness had become worse, and despite my loose uniform, the slight swell of my belly was becoming harder to hide.

"Isabella," Pearl called out, her voice honey-sweet with poison underneath. "I need the windows cleaned today. All of them."

I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on my apron. "The windows?"

"Yes, every single one." She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "The outside ones too. We're having guests tonight, and I want everything sparkling."

My heart sank. The mansion had three stories of tall windows, many with delicate stained glass panels. Cleaning them would take hours.

"Here." Pearl thrust a bucket of soapy water and a long-handled brush into my arms. "You can start with the east wing. Oh, and be careful—we wouldn't want any... accidents."

The way she said "accidents" made my skin crawl.

An hour later, I balanced precariously on a ladder outside the second-floor library windows. The wind whipped around me, threatening to knock me off balance. My arms ached from reaching up to clean the highest panes.

"Careful now," Pearl called from below, watching me with undisguised anticipation. "We wouldn't want you to slip."

I pressed my free hand against my stomach, steadying myself. The ladder wobbled slightly on the uneven ground.

"You know," Pearl continued, "Stephen mentioned how clumsy you've become lately. Almost like you're... distracted by something."

My blood ran cold. She knew. Or at least suspected.

I reached for the highest window pane, stretching my arm to its limit. The ladder shifted suddenly, one leg sinking into the soft earth. I gasped, grabbing the window frame as the ladder tilted dangerously.

For a terrifying moment, I hung suspended, my feet barely touching the rungs. Pearl's face appeared below, not concerned but disappointed.

"Such a shame," she murmured. "Though perhaps it would solve our little problem."

With a desperate surge of strength, I pulled myself back onto the ladder and climbed down, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

---

The kitchen was hot and steamy when Stephen's mother burst through the door like a winter storm.

"There you are," she hissed, cornering me against the stove. "I've been looking for you."

I set down the pot I'd been scrubbing. "Mrs. Richards."

"Don't pretend you don't know why I'm here." Her eyes were bloodshot, her hands trembling slightly. "You think you can just waltz back into our lives?"

"I'm just working here," I said quietly. "That's all."

She laughed, a harsh sound like breaking glass. "Working? Is that what you call it?" She stepped closer, the smell of cheap whiskey on her breath. "Do you have any idea what you've done to my son?"

Before I could respond, her hand cracked across my face, the force of it snapping my head to the side.

"My son had a future," she continued, her voice rising. "A real future with Pearl. And then you had to come crawling back."

"I never asked Stephen to—" I began, but she cut me off.

"You never asked for anything!" she spat. "You took everything! With your money and your privilege! And now look at you—worthless."

I touched my stinging cheek, tasting blood where my lip had cut against my teeth.

"Stephen belongs to Pearl now," she warned, leaning in until I could see the broken veins in her eyes. "If you know what's good for you, you'll disappear before you cause any more damage."

---

The dinner party was in full swing when Pearl called me into the dining room.

"Isabella," she announced to the assembled guests, "I have a special task for you tonight."

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to me as Pearl held up a familiar midnight blue gown—one I'd worn to last year's winter gala.

"Your old dress," Pearl said with a smile. "I've had it altered. Put it on."

My stomach twisted as she thrust the garment into my hands. I recognized her plan immediately.

"Now," she insisted when I hesitated.

In the hallway, I slipped into the dress. As expected, it was too tight, the seams straining across my chest and hips, the hemline rising indecently high. The neckline plunged far lower than it should have.

When I returned to the dining room, titters of laughter rippled through the guests.

"Oh dear," Pearl said loudly. "It seems to fit rather... snugly."

I stood frozen as Pearl circled me like a predator.

"You know," she announced to the room, "I have all of Isabella's old things now. Her jewelry, her clothes, even her family heirlooms."

She fingered a diamond necklace at her throat—my mother's favorite piece.

"They belong to me now," Pearl continued, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Just like everything else that was once hers."

The laughter grew louder as I stood there, humiliated in my too-tight dress, surrounded by people who had once been my equals.