Chapter 588:

“Shut up!” Matriarch Sullivan snapped. She looked at the boy with pure loathing.

She pulled out her phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. She saw the news.

Elias Thorne Breaks Auction Records for Girlfriend.

The rage that filled her was cold and sharp. She had nothing left. No money. No reputation. No family loyalty.

She needed a way out. But more than money, she craved retribution. She wanted to see Aurora Vance suffer as she was suffering.

Her eyes drifted to an email notification. It was a forwarded invite from a former socialite friend, sent days ago, mocking her.

The Inaugural Lakeside Charity Picnic. Hosted by the Revived Vance Foundation. Tomorrow at Noon.

It was an open-air event. Public. Wealthy people. Aurora Vance and Elias Thorne would be there.

Matriarch Sullivan looked at the invite, then she looked at Sawyer.

A dark, twisted idea began to form in her mind.

If a tragedy were to happen… a preventable accident on Vance property… involving a neglected child…

Child Dies at Vance Event due to Negligence.

It would destroy Aurora’s “Saint” image forever. She would be branded a killer of children.

“Sawyer,” Matriarch Sullivan said, her voice changing. It became sweet, sickly sweet, like rotting fruit.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stale peppermint. “Come here, darling. How would you like to go to a party tomorrow? There will be a big lake. And a game.”

Sawyer’s eyes lit up. “A game?”

Your favorite tales are on gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s․çоnn

“Yes,” she smiled, her teeth yellow in the dim light. “A game called ‘Who Can Swim the Farthest.'”

I received the notification for the picnic later that night.

“Security will be tight,” I told Elias as we unpacked the auction crates. “But it’s an open-air event. Hard to control.”

“We’ll manage,” Elias said, placing the Monet painting on the easel. “We have the perimeter secured. Nothing gets in without us knowing.”

If only we knew how desperate a cornered rat could be.

The day of the Inaugural Vance Charity Picnic was impossibly perfect. The sky was a saturated blue, the grass of the park was emerald green, and the air smelled of expensive perfume and barbecue.

I walked through the crowd, wearing a simple white sundress that probably cost more than the Sullivans’ current house. First, my dog, trotted beside me, wearing a bow tie.

Elias was a shadow at my side, holding a parasol to shield me from the sun.

“You realize you’re taking this ‘service’ thing too far,” I murmured.

“I’m rehabilitating my image,” Elias deadpanned. “Look at the cameras.”

Sure enough, telephoto lenses were trained on us from the perimeter.

Duke William Windsor appeared, looking flustered. He grabbed Elias’s arm. “Elias, I need a consult. The gazebo. Is the lighting right? I’m going to do it at sunset.”

Elias glanced at the gazebo by the lake. “It’s fine, William. Just don’t trip.”

.

.

.