Chapter 59

Harrison remained silent.

One maid scoffed, "Harrison, don't flatter yourself thinking you're suddenly a Whitmore heiress. Let's be clear—there are only two heiresses in this family: Penelope and Isabella."

Another maid joined in with a mocking laugh. "Exactly! Ms. Penelope is Dr. Sinclair's protégé, and Ms. Isabella is about to become Mrs. Falcon. What are you? Nothing but a country girl! Now hurry up and take this soup to Mrs. Victoria!"

The maids glared at her with contempt, but Harrison didn't react. She simply took the tray and walked toward the bedroom.

As she crossed the grand hall, Nathaniel noticed her while conversing with businessmen. His brow furrowed slightly.

Wasn't Harrison supposed to be a Whitmore daughter? Why was she being treated like a servant? Was this how her own family treated her?

Nathaniel's expression darkened. She had been so bold with him before, yet now she endured this humiliation in silence. Her courage only surfaced when bullying him.

Harrison entered the empty room and set the soup on the bedside table.

Then she caught it—a faint, almost imperceptible scent. Her instincts flared.

Her vision blurred. Before she could react, her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the bed.

The door creaked open. Someone slipped inside.

Roland Whitmore, Victoria's nephew—a spoiled, lecherous man who lived off his family's wealth—approached with a predatory grin.

"Aunt Victoria never mentioned how stunning this peasant girl was," he murmured, raking his gaze over her unconscious form. "Today's my lucky day."

His fingers reached for the buttons of her blouse.

"Don't blame me. You're the one standing in Isabella's way, clinging to the title of Mrs. Falcon. Once Aunt Victoria 'catches' us, your reputation will be ashes."

Guests murmured outside. "What's happening?"

Victoria exchanged a knowing smirk with Isabella. The show was about to begin.

Isabella linked arms with her mother, grinning. "Mom, is this your plan?"

Victoria chuckled. "Mr. Falcon will divorce her soon. You'll be Mrs. Falcon before the season ends."

Isabella pouted playfully. "You're amazing, Mother."

Victoria turned to Theodore. "Darling, you're staying with me tonight."

Theodore pulled her close. "As long as you handle this perfectly, I'm yours."

Victoria exhaled, then raised her voice. "What's that noise? It's coming from the guest room!"

The crowd followed eagerly. Frederick and Cassandra were among them, all rushing toward the scene.

A maid stood outside—one of Victoria's accomplices. "Mrs. Victoria," she feigned panic, "I just saw Harrison go in there."

"Harrison?" someone gasped. "That country girl? Is she... having an affair?"

Whispers erupted.

Margaret slammed her cane. "That uncultured brat! Ruining my birthday with her vulgarity!"

Victoria and Isabella exchanged triumphant glances. If Harrison was caught in scandal before Willowbrook's elite, her reputation would never recover.

With false concern, Victoria declared, "I can't believe Harrison would do this. I must see for myself."

She pushed the door open—revealing the exact scene she'd orchestrated.

On the bed, Roland loomed over a motionless figure, violently tearing at her clothes...