7 Chapter 7 – An Unexpected Kindness and a Devious Invitation
“Yes, yes. Arthur’s wife,” she insisted, her eyes bright with certainty. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me, dear. I’m not that far gone yet.”
Fiona nodded, her expression calculating. “And if he agrees to mentor me, Elara will be devastated. She’s been following his work for years, practically worships him. She laughed softly, “She’ll learn that everything she wants will always come to me first.”
My phone vibrated again. A WhatsApp message from another unknown number:
Little did Fiona know she had just invited Elara Dubois into her own trap.
Mrs. Sterling patted my hand. “That’s what family does, dear.”
Before I could respond, another message appeared:
“Hello?”
I was about to type a refusal when Mrs. Sterling suddenly reached out, her cool fingers touching my cheek.
Mrs. Dubois frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Elara.”
“Sit,” she commanded, and I obeyed, watching as she rummaged through my refrigerator.
I sat beside her, not having the heart to correct her delusion. “I made you some tea.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “It seems you do.”
Fiona quickly recovered. “I mean, she needs time to cool down. And you need rest,
Mother Beatrice.”
“This is not negotiable. She refuses to leave with anyone but you.”
Mrs. Dubois nodded. “Yes, his work on renewable energy is revolutionary. Why?”
I knelt beside her, gently helping her to her feet. “Mrs. Sterling, how did you find me? How did you get here?”
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My phone vibrated in my pocket. A quick glance showed an unknown number.
As Mrs. Dubois left the room, Fiona exchanged a triumphant smile with her mother.
I stared at the email again. Fiona was clearly setting a trap, but Mrs. Dubois’s involvement complicated things. If she truly needed to see “Dr. Wilson,” I couldn’t refuse.
This was impossible. No one knew about my connection to Arthur except Victor, and he’d never reveal my address.
I nearly dropped my phone. Fifty thousand dollars? Was he insane?
My phone pinged with another message: “One week. No excuses.”
I opened it immediately, concerned about her health.
“Arthur, darling!” she answered cheerfully. Her expression quickly soured. “No, I won’t come home with your driver. I’m staying with my granddaughter–in–law.”
The bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Dubois entered slowly, leaning on her walking cane. Despite her illness, Beatrice Hayes still carried herself with natural elegance.
She took one out, filled a pot with water, and placed it on the stove.
Mrs. Sterling noticed my distress. “Bad news, dear?”
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick.
But he’d already hung up. Typical.
“Such a pretty girl,” she murmured. “My Arthur chose well.”
“What happened here, dear? You’re swelling.”
Meanwhile, across town at the Dubois mansion, Fiona sat at her vanity, dabbing theatrical makeup on her unmarked cheek while her mother hovered nearby.
She looked around with curious eyes. “It’s smaller than I expected. Arthur’s being stingy, isn’t he?”
“Bottom shelf,” I replied, confused.
My head spun. First Arthur Sterling denying our marriage, and now his grandmother appearing at my doorstep, claiming me as family. The universe had a twisted sense of
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humor
“What’s this I hear about Elara?” she asked, her voice weak but concerned.
Fiona turned, revealing her “bruised” cheek. “She slapped me, Mother Beatrice, Unprovoked. She was raging about my engagement to Caleb, saying horrible things.” Back at my apartment, I was making dinner for Mrs. Sterling when my phone buzzed with an email notification. The sender made my heart skip a beat: Beatrice Hayes. “That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Dubois said, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll send him an invitation right away.”
I checked my phone again, staring at Arthur’s message. The $50,000 would solve many problems–enough to pay the next installment on my patent application for the energy converter and still have plenty left over.
“Mrs. Sterling, let me help you inside first.” I unlocked my door and guided her into my modest apartment.
I hit send, then rushed to my bedroom to prepare. Within my closet hung the carefully constructed disguise of Dr. Wilson–the horn–rimmed glasses, the silver–streaked wig, the precisely tailored suit.
“Wait-”
“Hold it there,” she instructed.
“Dear Dr. Wilson,” it began, “I apologize for the short notice, but I would be honored if you could visit my home this evening to discuss a potential collaboration with my foundation. Additionally, my daughter Fiona has expressed interest in your field of study. Your guidance would mean the world to both of us.”
“My mother used to do this for me,” she explained, turning on the burner. “A boiled egg, still warm, pressed against a bruise. Works better than ice.”
“Well,” Fiona said with practiced innocence, “I’ve managed to get his contact
information through a university connection. I was thinking… perhaps you could invite him here? As my graduation/approaches, I’ve been contemplating which field to specialize in. His guidance would be invaluable.”
“Mrs. Sterling, why did you come looking for me?”
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1 blinked in surprise. “And he brought you here? To my apartment?”
Genevieve rushed to her side. “Beatrice, you shouldn’t be up! The doctor said-”
Ten minutes later, she gently pressed the warm, peeled egg against my cheek.
As I filled the kettle, I answered the call.
“Dear Mrs. Hayes, I would be delighted to meet with you this evening. I can arrive within the hour. Sincerely, Dr. Wilson.”
“Of course,” she said understandingly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine here.”
I heard him exhale. “Don’t move. I’m sending a car.”
“Oh, you’ve always had a soft spot for her,” Genevieve said bitterly. “But you didn’t see her today. Like a wild animal, she was!”
With trembling fingers, I typed my reply:
“You poor thing,” Genevieve cooed. “That ungrateful wretch! After everything we’ve
done for her.”
“My grandmother needs specialized care. $50,000 has been transferred to your account for one week of looking after her. I’ll collect her when I return from my business trip. – A.S.”
“Tea would be lovely, dear.”
“The nice man at your office told me where you live.” Her brow furrowed. “Or was it your school? The details get fuzzy sometimes.”
“No eggs?” she asked.
Mrs. Sterling’s phone rang. She fumbled in her purse, pulling out an expensive smartphone.
hasn’t
She patted the couch beside her. “Because Arthur’s been keeping you from me, he? He’s always so protective.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “And call me Grandmother, dear. We’re family.”
“Please, sit down.” I led her to my couch. “Would you like some water or tea?”
“No!” both Fiona and Genevieve exclaimed simultaneously.
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But it wasn’t just about the money. This confused old woman had shown me more genuine care in ten minutes than I’d received from my own family in years.
I swallowed hard. “I… I need to go out tonight. For work.”
My hand flew to my face where my mother had slapped me earlier. I’d forgotten about it in all the chaos.
“Dr. Wilson won’t be able to resist a personal invitation from Beatrice Hayes,” Genevieve whispered. “And once he’s here, you’ll dazzle him with your intelligence.”
Fiona sniffled dramatically. “She’s always been jealous of me, Mother. But to physically attack me on my engagement day?”
Fiona suddenly brightened. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. You mentioned wanting to meet that brilliant scientist–Dr. Wilson–for your charity foundation?”
“Fine. One week,” she finally said, then hung up. She turned to me with a triumphant smile. “I’ve always known how to handle my grandson.”
I nearly dropped my phone. This couldn’t be happening.
Mrs. Dubois sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Is she with you?” Arthur Sterling’s voice was sharp, cutting straight to the point.
More muffled arguing.
I suppressed a laugh. If only she knew
Something broke inside me at this simple act of kindness. When was the last time someone had tended to my hurts? Mrs. Dubois had tried occasionally, but Genevieve always interfered.
“Your grandmother? Yes.”
I returned to find Mrs. Sterling examining a framed photo of me from college graduation.
My chest tightened at her kindness. No one had called me pretty in years–not since my mother decided I was a threat to Fiona.
I led her to my tiny kitchenette, touched by her concern.
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Mrs. Sterling clucked her tongue. “Nonsense. I know a slap mark when I see one.” She stood up with surprising agility. “Where’s your kitchen? We need a cold compress.”
Mrs. Sterling’s face hardened with surprising lucidity. “I’m not going to that empty house again. Either I stay with your wife, or I’ll check myself into that retirement home you’ve been threatening me with.”
“It’s nothing,” I lied.
Mrs. Dubois sank into a nearby chair, looking troubled. “Perhaps I should call her…”
I could hear Arthur’s muffled voice through the phone, firm and insistent.
“Your granddaughter–in–law?” I stared down at Mrs. Sterling, her frail hands clutching my wrist with surprising strength.
I typed back: “One week. I’ll take care of her.”
“I’ve had enough of bed rest,” Mrs. Dubois said firmly. “Tell me what happened with
Elara.”
She waved dismissively. “I took a taxi, of course. Asked the nice driver to take me to my grandson’s wife.”
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