airs down to the kitchen. Her stomach was growling,

were being prepped for the pre-Gala reception. T

he doorway. No

," one of the new maids whispered,

l her that. But yeah. I heard she

Estelle. She's glowing. She's practically a saint, taking care

ering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Estelle

treats her like she's th

ood, like Alice. Some people have noble souls, like

doorframe, listening.

e wall and steppe

said. Her v

The maids jumped, eyes widening

ice cut through the silence. She

handed her. Her hand shook s

staff. "Where are my things? My easel?

The Madam... she said they were clu

elt a sharp pang in h

he antique easel. The one your grandmother gave you.

ing she had left of the one person who actually loved her. Estelle di

udible, "about what they were saying... about the

hy? It's not a secret. Ever

e Master's true blood, an illegitimate daughter brought into the family, not just a foundling. S

ssed with perfection. She was so desperate to be a "real

s circle, lying about lineage w

own on the counter.

itchen. Her hunger was gone, repla

aughter? She wanted to steal her history, her ro

ibrary-a painting of her at sixteen-was gone. In its place hung a massiv

ed at the

ion was a house of cards built on a

ce was