Chapter 9 - THE VENOM BENEATH THE SURFACE
Patricia didn't back down. Though she was physically tiny compared to the muscular biker standing over her, she carried the unshakeable arrogance of old money and high-society protection.
She crossed her arms, looking up at him with cool, calculating eyes.
"I am Madeline’s cousin, Ethan," Patricia said sharply, her smooth tone finally showing a sharp edge of venom. "I promised her family I would watch over those girls if anything happened to her. Look at this place! You live like a outlaw king in a fortress, bringing dangerous men around, leaving these children with a low-class domestic worker!"
"Clara has done more for those girls in six months than you have done in their entire lives," Ethan replied coldly.
"Clara is a stranger!" Patricia snapped, her voice rising. "You know nothing about her background! You hired her off a simple agency referral because you were grieving and desperate! Do you even know where she goes on her days off? Do you know who she talks to?"
Ethan’s eyes narrowed into sharp, lethal points. "What are you implying, Patricia?"
Patricia took a step closer, leaning in, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
"I’m implying that you are letting an unknown woman sleep under the same roof as your motherless daughters," Patricia said softly. "A woman who came into this house right after Madeline died. Don't you find that timing just a little bit convenient?"
Ethan stared at her. The words were designed to plant seeds of suspicion, to ignite the dangerous paranoia that usually consumed men in his position.
In the past, it might have worked. But Ethan had just stood in the hallway and watched Clara slide a glass of orange juice away from Sophie’s trembling hands without even looking. He had seen the genuine love in Clara’s eyes.
He saw right through Patricia.
"What I find convenient," Ethan said, his raspy voice cutting through her smooth tone like a razor, "is how eager you are to get Clara out of this house."
Patricia’s eyes flashed with a sudden, momentary flicker of panic—so quick an untrained observer would have missed it entirely.
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"I am thinking of the girls," Patricia insisted, pulling back slightly.
"No," Ethan said, leaning down until his dark face was inches from hers, his cold breath brushing her cheek. "You're thinking about something else. And I’m going to find out what it is."
