The dining room crackled with tension. Clara turned to our father with wide eyes, her face flushed with anger.
"Give her the money and make her leave," she demanded, jabbing her finger in my direction. "I don't care how much it costs. Pay her off and be done with it!"
Baron Reginald's eyes darted nervously between us. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fumbled with his napkin.
"It's not that simple," he muttered. "I can't just hand over the inheritance. There are... complications."
"Complications?" Clara echoed mockingly. "What complications? It's her money. Give it to her so she'll disappear forever!"
I watched my father squirm, savoring the moment. For once, he couldn't hide behind his facade of respectability. His lies were unraveling thread by thread.
"He can't give me what he doesn't have," I said coolly. "Isn't that right, Father?"
The Baron's face drained of color. "I don't know what you mean."
"You know exactly what I mean." I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady. "You were never supposed to touch that money. It was in trust until I married. But you've been dipping into it for years, haven't you? That's why you never got rid of me, no matter how much Lady Beatrix urged you to."
Lady Beatrix's head snapped toward her husband. "Reginald? What is she talking about?"
My father loosened his collar with one finger, his breathing shallow. "This is absurd. I've always kept you out of kindness, Isabella."
"Kindness?" I laughed bitterly. "Is that what you call it? Locking me away, treating me like a shameful secret, allowing your wife and daughter to torment me daily – all while living off my mother's money?"
Clara's eyes widened with dawning comprehension. "Is this true? You kept her here because of her money?"
"Of course not," he sputtered, but his eyes betrayed him.
I folded my hands in front of me, feeling strangely calm. "Don't worry, Father. I won't expose your theft to Duke Alaric or the court. I'll keep quiet about the missing inheritance."
Relief flickered across his face before I continued.
"But in return, you will stop pretending you sheltered me out of fatherly love. We both know the truth. You kept me here because you needed access to my trust fund."
The Baron's shoulders slumped in defeat. His face aged ten years in an instant.
"You don't understand the pressures of maintaining an estate," he whispered. "After your mother died—"
"After my mother died, you squandered what she left," I cut in. "Including what was meant for me."
Lady Beatrix gripped her wine glass so tightly I thought it might shatter. "You told me the estate was profitable!"
"It was... it is," Baron Reginald stammered. "There were just... temporary shortfalls."
"Shortfalls that have lasted fifteen years?" I asked pointedly.
Before he could respond, the kitchen door swung open. Jasper entered with a tray, followed by several servants carrying our dinner. Among them was Matteo, looking uncomfortable in ill-fitting livery. Our eyes met briefly, and I detected a hint of respect in his gaze.
The arrival of food created a welcome interruption. For several minutes, the only sounds were the clink of silverware and the servants' quiet footsteps.
When the servers had left, Jasper remained, clearing his throat nervously.
"My lord," he addressed my father, "I must inform you of a staffing issue. Miss Clara has dismissed Clara Meadows, and we're now severely understaffed for the upcoming work."
The Baron's eyes narrowed at his younger daughter. "You fired another maid? Without consulting me?"
Clara tossed her hair. "She was impertinent. Always looking at me with judgment in her eyes."
"Clara Meadows is educated and costs less than hiring someone new," my father snapped. "We can't afford to lose more staff!"
An uncomfortable silence followed his admission of financial strain. Lady Beatrix stared daggers at him while Clara sulked.
Kate, who had been quietly eating, suddenly spoke up. "Clara Meadows is nobody. She fell from grace years ago. No decent household would hire her if you hadn't been desperate."
I glanced at Kate, curious about her spiteful tone. There seemed to be some history there I wasn't aware of.
"What exactly did Clara Meadows do?" I asked.
Kate's lips curled. "Ask her yourself. It's not fit conversation for the dinner table."
An idea formed in my mind – part compassion, part strategy.
"I need a personal maid to accompany me to my new home," I said thoughtfully. "Perhaps Clara Meadows would suit. I'll take her with me tomorrow."
The Baron looked up, surprised but visibly relieved. "That would solve our immediate problem."
"Father!" Clara protested. "I fired her! You can't just give her to Isabella like a hand-me-down dress!"
"I can and I will," he replied firmly. "Perhaps this will teach you to consult me before making decisions that affect this household. Jasper, inform Clara Meadows she's been reassigned to Isabella, effective immediately."
"Yes, my lord." Jasper bowed slightly and retreated.
Clara's face contorted with fury. "You're taking her side? After everything she just said about stealing her money?"
"Enough!" The Baron slammed his hand on the table. "My decision is final."
Clara stared at us all, her chest heaving with rage. Without warning, she pushed her chair back violently, the legs screeching against the floor.
"I have nothing to say to any of you!" she shouted, storming toward the door.
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. After years of being the one to flee from uncomfortable situations, watching Clara make a dramatic exit felt oddly satisfying.
Lady Beatrix noticed my amusement. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her fork, eyes burning with resentment. The message was clear – this wasn't over.
"Clara, come back this instant!" she called, but the only response was the slamming of the dining room door.
Baron Reginald sighed heavily, suddenly looking every bit his age. "You've caused quite enough trouble for one evening, Isabella."
"I've caused trouble?" I raised an eyebrow. "By revealing the truth that you stole my inheritance?"
"I borrowed against it," he corrected stiffly. "And I always intended to replace it."
"With what money?" I asked. "The estate is failing. Everyone knows it."
Lady Beatrix's eyes darted between us. "How much is left?" she whispered to her husband.
He avoided her gaze. "We'll discuss this later."
"No," she insisted, her voice rising. "I want to know now. How much of her money is left?"
The Baron's silence was answer enough.
I watched their marriage crumble before my eyes, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and pity. These people had made my life miserable for years, yet there was something pathetic about seeing them exposed.
"Will the Duke pursue legal action?" my father finally asked, his voice small.
I considered the question. Alaric would certainly want to if he knew the full extent of my father's theft. He was protective that way. But did I want to drag this out in court?
"As I said, I'll keep quiet about the missing inheritance," I replied carefully. "But only if you honor our agreement. No more pretending you kept me out of love or duty."
He nodded reluctantly. "You have my word."
"Your word," I repeated with a bitter smile. "Worth as much as your promises to my mother, I imagine."
Lady Beatrix pushed her chair back suddenly, her movements jerky with anger. She glared at me, then at her husband.
"I have nothing to say to you," she spat, echoing Clara's earlier words, before stalking from the room.
As she left, I couldn't help but notice how small and defeated my father looked – a shadow of the man who had once terrified me. His empire of lies was collapsing, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Tomorrow, I would leave this house forever with my new maid Clara Meadows. I would start a new life as Duchess of Blackwood, with a husband who actually cared for me.
And I would leave behind the broken remnants of a family that had never truly been mine.