Seeing Silvia coming home, Vianne flashed her a fleeting, crooked smile before turning and disappearing into her bedroom.
Climbing to the second floor, Silvia realized Shipley was there too.
Shipley’s expression shifted, a flicker of discomfort passing over her face before she slid easily into her usual familiarity, slipping an arm around Silvia’s shoulders. “Where have you been all night? You had me worried sick, you know.”
Worried? Silvia pressed her lips together, unconvinced. She’d been staying at the inn just across from their house; if anyone had really wanted to find her, it wouldn’t have been difficult.
“Why are you moving my things?” Silvia asked.
She glanced at the pile of her belongings in the living room—some were even broken.
Shipley’s tone was lazy, his gaze indifferent. “Vianne said the tree outside the guest room window throws weird shadows at night. She’s been scared, so she asked to switch rooms.”
So that was all it took? Just a shadow, and suddenly it was fine to toss her things out without a word?
Because of a tree’s shadow.
Silvia’s gaze met Vianne’s smug smile, and she felt utterly weary.
She said nothing, just nodded, watching as Vianne closed the bedroom door right in front of her.
The room Silvia had lived in for three years—taken away in a heartbeat.
And Shipley, she realized, was probably just as ready to hand over to Vianne as well.
After all, Silvia had only ever been a substitute.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously, knuckles pale as she lowered her eyes and headed downstairs.
Shipley trailed after her.
Watching her face, he raised a brow, a hint of wicked amusement on his striking features. “Sweet Silvia, are you upset? If you give Vianne the room, you can share with me. How’s that sound?”
Silvia stared at him in silence.
He still wore that easy, detached smile, as if the offer he’d made was some sort of generous favor she should be grateful for.
Did he really think that letting her stay with him was some kind of gift she ought to cherish?
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