Chapter 4

Victoria wasted no time.

She began her seduction of Harry under the guise of "holistic health" advice for me.

She' d bring him "special energy-boosting smoothies" in his study, lingering, her hand brushing his.

She' d discuss my "delicate emotional state" with him in hushed, concerned tones, always positioning herself as the caring, knowledgeable sister.

I watched, a silent observer, a puppet master pulling invisible strings.

While Victoria focused on Harry, I fanned the flames of rivalry among his new harem.

A casually dropped comment to Chloe about how much Harry admired Izzy's "boldness."

An "anonymous" tip to Izzy about a beautiful new necklace Harry had bought, letting her assume it was for her, when it was actually for Chloe.

Small gifts, strategic whispers, fueling their insecurities and ambitions.

Chloe became more possessive, Izzy more demanding.

Victoria, of course, saw them as gnats, easily swatted away once she had Harry secured. She underestimated my game.

One afternoon, Victoria staged her little drama.

She was "preparing a special calming herbal tea" for me in the kitchen.

Suddenly, there was a shriek, a clatter of a cup.

Harry rushed in, followed by me, feigning concern.

Victoria was cradling her hand, tears welling in her eyes. Hot tea was spilled on the counter, a few drops on her skin.

"Oh, my hand!" she cried, looking at Harry with wide, innocent eyes. "The kettle was so hot. I was just trying to help Evie."

Harry immediately turned on me, his face dark. "Evelyn! You should be more careful! Victoria is trying to help you, and you let this happen?"

He didn't even ask what happened. He just blamed me.

In my first life, I would have been devastated, flustered, apologizing.

This time, I met his gaze, my expression carefully neutral, a hint of hurt.

"I was in the drawing-room, Harry," I said softly. "I just came in when I heard Victoria cry out."

But Harry was already doting on Victoria, examining her "scalded" hand, which looked barely pink.

"We need to get some burn cream on this immediately," he fussed, leading her away like a fragile doll.

Victoria shot me a triumphant smirk over Harry's shoulder.

She thought she was winning, making me look careless and ungrateful.

Good. Let her think that.

Later, Harry insisted Victoria see his personal doctor for her "terrible burn."

The doctor, no doubt well-paid for his discretion, prescribed a soothing balm and advised her to "rest the hand."

Victoria reveled in the attention, playing the martyr.

I, meanwhile, made sure Chloe saw Harry' s excessive concern for Victoria.

"He's so worried about your stepsister," Chloe said, a jealous edge to her voice.

"Victoria has always been... delicate," I replied, a subtle emphasis on the word.

To Izzy, I lamented how Victoria' s "accident" had completely distracted Harry from her brilliant social media proposals.

"He's completely wrapped around Victoria's little finger right now," I sighed.

The rivalries intensified. Chloe grew resentful, Izzy impatient. Victoria, smug and secure in Harry's attention, became more dismissive of them.

The air in the Bishop estate crackled with unspoken tensions, all according to my design.

Mrs. Davis watched everything with her usual stoic expression, but I saw the disapproval in her eyes when she looked at Harry fawning over Victoria, or at Chloe' s increasingly brazen behavior.

Her loyalty was to the household, to order. And order was rapidly disintegrating.

One evening, Harry was out at a political dinner.

Victoria, Chloe, and Izzy were all in the house. The tension was thick.

Izzy, feeling neglected by Harry, decided to film a "day in the life" segment for her followers, hoping to "accidentally" capture something that would get her attention.

Chloe, meanwhile, tried to assert her status by ordering the kitchen staff around, mimicking Victoria's imperious tone.

Victoria, irritated by both of them, was holding court in the living room, talking loudly on the phone to one of her society friends about her "charitable efforts" in looking after poor, fragile Evie.

It was a perfect storm of vanity and ambition.

I merely observed, a ghost in my own home, letting their own natures do the work.

Their petty squabbles were an amusing sideshow, a prelude to the main event I was orchestrating.

Victoria' s little tea incident was just an appetizer. The main course of her humiliation was yet to come.