Chapter 1

When my husband Terry Kirk brought her sweet cousin Gabrielle Harrison home, the whole family acted like we were facing a crisis.

My mother-in-law, Sydney, waited nervously, and the maids and old maids shot me wary, cold looks—afraid that I, the notorious tigress, would blow up right then and there.

They totally got it wrong.

I took Gabrielle by the hand and led her inside, picked out the best jewelry for her, and let her stay in the nicest courtyard.

Sydney praised me for being such a good wife, Terry's eyes were red with emotion, and Gabrielle's pride was practically written all over her face.

For three months, I took her out shopping and to every banquet, making sure everyone heard about "my cousin." She'd play the innocent in front of me, telling me Terry had bought her yet another hairpin.

I'd just smile, help her put it on, and tell her she was so pretty and could pull off anything.

She thought I was just trying to please her.

What she didn't realize was that every time she snuck out to meet one of her flings, someone was quietly keeping track in a secret ledger.

There was the charming guy who ran the rouge shop, the broke painter who taught classes, and the wealthy heir who rented out boats...

She'd see the painter on the first and fifteenth, meet the shop owner on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and save Sundays for boating with the rich heir.

Her calendar was packed tighter than Ivor Vasquez's, our butler.

The day her secret blew up, Terry stood in the back garden, watching his precious cousin snuggle up to another man—his face turned green with jealousy and rage.

I stood there in the moonlight, feigning shock as I covered my mouth. "Seriously? Gabrielle, have you lost your mind?"

Later, when Gabrielle was on her knees, begging me to save her, I crouched down and whispered just for her ears.

"Gabrielle, being a tigress isn't scary, and playing the sweet little angel isn't scary either. What's truly terrifying is thinking everyone else is an idiot."

*****

When Terry showed up with someone in tow, I was out back feeding the fish.

Eugenia, the maid, came running, gasping for air. "Oh no, Ma'am! Mr. Kirk—he brought a girl home!"

I spilled half the fish food right then and there.

Not because I was panicked—just annoyed. That fish food cost a silver coin a bag, and it hurt to see it wasted.

"What girl?" I asked.

"It's Gabrielle Harrison, his cousin. Her family's fallen on hard times, so she's come to stay with us," Eugenia whispered. "Sydney already went to see her and wanted you there right away. She said... she said..."

"What did she say?" I pressed.

"She said we can't let that vixen set foot in the house, and you need to show your authority as the lady of the house," Eugenia whispered.

I handed the fish food to Eugenia, tidied up my outfit, and flashed a calm smile.

"Come on, let's check it out," I said.

The main hall was so tense, you'd think we were about to get busted by the cops.

Sydney sat at the head of the room, her infamous cane—rumored to have disciplined three generations of concubines—right within reach.

The old maids lined up on either side, shooting icy glares. Terry stood dead center, and next to him was a girl, tiny and fragile, quietly blotting her tears with a handkerchief.

As soon as I stepped inside, everyone's eyes snapped to me, and even their breathing seemed to hush—like the air itself was holding its breath.

Sydney was the first to speak. "Sophia, don't worry. I'm here for you today—"

"Oh, Sydney," I interrupted her, smiling as I walked over to the girl. "So this is our cousin, right? You must be tired after such a long trip."

Gabrielle looked up, her eyes red from crying, but those eyes were gorgeous—shimmering and watery, like she was about to burst into tears, making her look heartbreakingly innocent.

"Mrs. Kirk..." she whispered, her voice timid and soft as cotton.

"Oh, don't be so distant. Just call me by my name," I said, gently taking her hand. Then I shot Terry a teasing glance. "Honestly, Terry, you could've warned me Gabrielle was coming. I would've made sure her courtyard was ready and perfect."

Terry froze for a second, clearly caught off guard by how welcoming I was.

He started, hesitating, "Sophia, Gabrielle, she..."

"Gabrielle? That's such a pretty name," I said, smiling as I looked her up and down. "And you're adorable—just the kind of girl people can't help but want to take care of. Don't just stand there. Come sit."

I guided Gabrielle to a seat and asked the maids to serve coffee and refreshments.

Sydney awkwardly fiddled with her cane, unsure what to do with it. She cleared her throat. "Sophia, you... you're not upset?"

"Oh, Sydney, why would I be upset? I'm actually delighted," I said, lifting my cup. "Terry's always treated me with such devotion, so of course, his cousin is family to me as well. And with such a big house, a little extra company just makes things more cheerful."

Gabrielle stole a glance at Terry, then quickly dropped her head, her ears flushing red.

I couldn't help but scoff to myself.

Girl, you're really rushing your act, aren't you?

That night, I rolled up my sleeves and got Rosewood Garden ready myself—the best guest courtyard we had, with a little pond right outside the window.