Chapter 3
William saw me standing by the dining table and walked over, giving my arm a gentle pull.
"Sit down and eat," he said.
"Who's the seat at the head of the table for?" I asked.
William picked up the oatmeal and slid it in front of me.
William said, "Just eat. Don't worry about the rest."
"William," I said.
I shoved the oatmeal back toward him and stood up, facing him head-on.
"Who's been living in this house for the past three years?" I asked.
William pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
I demanded, "Who did you call at the hospital that day, telling someone not to show up? Who wrote that sticky note in the car? Whose shoes are those by the door?
"Whose floral dresses are in the closet? Whose lipsticks are on the dressing table? And who's been sleeping in the master bedroom?"
I spat out every word.
"And who is the 'Mrs. Bennett' Amelia keeps talking about?" I pressed.
William set down his fork.
The silence lingered for at least ten seconds.
Then he said, "Her name is Fiona Bennett."
Fiona Bennett.
I'd never even heard that name before.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"After you fell into a coma, both the company and the house needed a Mrs. Bennett to step in. I found her to help you handle some things," William said.
I wondered what she handled for me.
"What kind of things require her to live in my master bedroom, wear my clothes, and sit in my seat?" I shot back.
"It's not what you think," William said.
"Then what is it? Tell me," I pressed.
William stood up and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair.
"I'm off to work. Take care of yourself, and try not to stress about it," he said.
As the door clicked shut, I saw him pull out his phone, hurry over to his car, and quickly send a message.
The glow from his phone screen reflected off the car window.
I couldn't make out the contact's name, but the profile picture was a pink rabbit.
Less than an hour after William left, the doorbell rang.
Amelia went to answer it, and standing outside was a woman in her fifties, with perfectly styled curls, a emerald necklace, a beige suit, and low-heeled pumps.
It was Darcy Bennett, my mother-in-law.
As soon as she walked in, she headed straight upstairs.
Amelia hurried after her.
"Mrs. Bennett, she's still upstairs," Amelia said.
Darcy stopped in her tracks.
"Who?" she asked.
"The one who just woke up," Amelia replied.
Darcy's expression turned indifferent.
"Oh, she's in the guest room?" Darcy asked, her tone flat.
"Yes," Amelia replied.
"Have her come downstairs," Darcy said.
When I came down the stairs, Darcy was already sitting on the main sofa in the living room, legs crossed, holding a cup of green tea Amelia had just made.
She looked me up and down.
She didn't bother to stand.
"Look at you. You've gotten so thin," she said.
"After being in a coma for three years, it's hard not to lose weight," I replied.
"Sit," she said, pointing to the single chair next to her.
Not the sofa.
It was the single chair beside her, noticeably shorter than the sofa.
I remained standing, facing her.
"Mom, William won't tell me what's been going on in this house for the past three years. Can you tell me?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" Darcy asked.
"Who is Fiona?" I pressed.
Her hand stayed steady on the teacup, but her gaze flickered for a split second.
"William never told you about her?" Darcy asked.
"He said she was someone who helped me out with some stuff," I replied.
Darcy said, taking a sip of her coffee, "That's all there is to it.
"You were out for three years. Someone had to hold down the fort. I picked Fiona because I know her well, and she's reliable. I trust her to handle things."
"So reliable she moved into my master bedroom, used all my things, and even had the housekeeper calling her 'Mrs. Bennett'?" I shot back.
Darcy set down her cup.
She said, "Violet, you just woke up, but it seems your temper hasn't changed one bit."
"Who does my temper bother?" I shot back.
Darcy replied, her tone icy, "Everyone. You really think this place just magically kept running for three years?
"Every company event, every client dinner, every family visit, none of it could go on without a Mrs. Bennett holding it all together.
"You were out cold, and Fiona stepped up and handled everything for you. And now, the first thing you do after waking up isn't to thank her, but to interrogate her? Seriously?"
"Was she carrying the burden for me, or was she just taking over my life?" I shot back.
Darcy stood up and grabbed her handbag.
"Just focus on your recovery. When you're well again, Fiona will leave on her own," she said.
"When is she moving out?" I pressed.
"When the timing's right," Darcy replied.
"What does 'the right time' even mean?" I shot back.
She walked to the door and called back, "Whenever William decides."
The door closed behind her.
I wondered when the right time was.
I knew that it was eventually William's call.
Not a single person ever bothered to ask what I thought.
That afternoon, while Amelia was out grocery shopping, I snuck up to the third floor by myself.
The third floor was where William's study and the storage room were.
The storage room door wasn't locked.