Chapter 278

"Ha! We're here to see Rosalind, while you're stuck with that nobody Harrison. How sad," Arabella taunted Beatrice.

Eleanor nearly choked on her own disbelief at the ridiculous comment.

Beatrice flashed a dazzling smile.

"Oh absolutely, I'm so jealous you get to spend time with Rosalind," she purred with exaggerated sweetness.

Arabella snorted. "Isabella, let's not waste another second on this loser. Rosalind's waiting inside."

Isabella had no intention of lingering either. "Right. Let her stew in envy. Come on."

They strutted past Beatrice, their noses practically touching the ceiling.

Eleanor couldn't suppress a laugh. "They still don't have a clue who you really are."

Beatrice arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow, her grin turning wicked. "Don't worry. I'll make sure this becomes unforgettable."

As Isabella and Arabella entered the grand parlor, Isabella felt like she'd stepped into a fairy tale. She was finally inside the Whitmore estate.

Her ambitions were within reach.

A uniformed maid approached them. "Young misses, please make yourselves comfortable. Ms. Whitmore is finishing her preparations upstairs."

"Of course, thank you," Isabella replied smoothly, settling onto the plush sofa beside Arabella. She'd rehearsed this moment countless times. Every compliment, every carefully crafted remark was ready to charm Rosalind into becoming her most powerful ally.

"Ms. Whitmore is descending now," the maid announced.

Isabella and Arabella sprang to their feet, their eager faces turning toward the grand staircase.

Then their expressions shattered.

Beatrice, now draped in an exquisite designer gown, descended the stairs with regal grace, her piercing gaze locking onto their horrified faces.

Their complexions turned ashen. "Beatrice? What are you—"

She glided toward them, lips curling in amusement as she winked. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

Isabella's voice trembled. "We're here to see Rosalind. Why would you—"

The realization hit them like a thunderbolt.

They'd come to meet Rosalind. Yet here stood Beatrice... which could only mean one impossible thing.

Arabella's hands flew to her mouth. "No... you're Rosalind?"

Their widened eyes reflected utter shock. The girl they'd mocked as a nobody was actually the Whitmore heiress.

Impossible!

Isabella refused to accept it. "This is some sick joke! You're just some—"

"Enough!"

Eleanor's sharp command sliced through the air like a whip.

Suddenly, a squad of armed guards flooded the room, surrounding the stunned girls with military precision.

Beatrice casually circled them and settled onto the velvet chaise lounge like a queen holding court.

Eleanor's glare could have frozen lava. "You insolent brats! How dare you disrespect Ms. Beatrice! One more word and you'll be thrown out like the trash you are!"

The terrified girls watched as a maid presented Beatrice with a porcelain teacup. She took a delicate sip before fixing them with a predatory smile.

"You came to see Rosalind, didn't you? Well... surprise. You're looking at her."