Revenge in Thompson Estate

On the third day of relative calm, Nathaniel called me into his office, his long, narrow eyes fixed on me in silence. I feigned ignorance, adopting a humble posture as if awaiting a reprimand.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled. "Brooklynn, you’re quite composed. Join me for dinner at my house tonight."

It wasn't a request; it was an order. I hesitated slightly. "If I decline, will it cost me my job?"

Nathaniel's fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, his demeanor unchanged. "Why? Do you dislike spending time with me, or is there someone else in the picture?"

"No, I just don't want to trouble you, Mr. Thompson. Carmen is still resting, and she's quite sensitive."

Nathaniel likes everything to unfold exactly as he envisions it—his nearly obsessive work goals are evidence of that. Using Carmen as an excuse was bound to irritate him, and sure enough, the tapping quickened.

In the end, he took me home. He needed someone compliant to provide comfort.

As soon as we entered, we were greeted by Carmen’s playful laughter, deliberately softened to sound gentle. I knew who she was mimicking. Camila always spoke like a gentle stream flowing through a valley, soothing and calming. And Carmen? Just a novice, thinking that lowering her voice and slowing her speech could achieve the same effect—how amusing.

The household staff doted on her, congratulating her on being the first woman Nathaniel brought home, predicting she’d soon be the lady of the house. Carmen didn’t deny it, her laughter as bright as a blooming daisy.

I glanced down at my flat stomach. Carmen becoming the lady of the house? That seemed premature. After all, wasn’t I brought home the same day?

With everyone's focus on her pregnancy, how could I, someone eager to stir the pot, let the opportunity slip by?

"Doesn’t anyone have work to do?" Nathaniel said, walking toward them.

Carmen jumped up and rushed over, but her smile flickered when she saw me. Nathaniel barely touched her arm, reverting to his usual demeanor. She shot me a sharp look, though she continued to speak with a playful tone, while I simply kept my head down, feigning ignorance.

Before Carmen could finish speaking, Nathaniel interrupted and led me to the dining table without sparing her a glance. I followed obediently—one dominant presence in the Thompson house was more than enough.

Calmness and silence were crucial to keeping Nathaniel content at moments like these. The staff were quick to read the room, setting the tableware for me first, then for Carmen.

And when it was time for post-dinner activities, Nathaniel naturally chose me; after all, it wouldn’t do to tire out a pregnant woman.

We ascended the spiral staircase, catching a glimpse of Carmen’s tantrum through the gaps in the banister. Her gritted teeth were somewhat endearing; there's a certain wild beauty in young women, even when they’re upset. I was almost moved—almost, but not quite.

After all, she’d used those very words to provoke Camila. If I could, I'd make sure she couldn’t speak so freely next time.