Chapter 12: Territorial ims–2


    Before I could answer, Cassandra, sitting nearby, interjected sharply, “Ugh, the poorer someone is, the more they like heavy, spicy vors. Miss Winters, that smell is awful. Maybe take it


    outside?”


    The irony wasn’t lost on me–Ethan was just craving these very dishes moments ago, yet Cassandra now used them as a ss insult. I wondered if he would defend me or his own


    preferences.


    He did neither, sitting in ufortable silence as Cassandra continued her tirade against my


    “low–ss” food choices.


    licked my lips provocatively and deliberately stirred the pot. “Miss Evans, it seems you don’t really know Ethan. Why don’t you ask him if he likes spicy food?”


    Cassandra looked stunned and turned to Ethan, clearly expecting him to side with her refined pte. His brow twitched, unwilling to expose himself, and he simply picked up some in


    vegetables.


    “Forget her, let’s just eat,” he muttered, avoiding both our gazes.


    Ignoring their awkwardness, I happily finished my entire spicy feast, humming with satisfaction at each delicious bite. The tension at the table was palpable, but for once, I


    wasn’t the one feeling ufortable.


    After dinner, Cassandra strutted around the living room like she already owned the ce. She began nitpicking everything I had once lovingly arranged.


    “Ethan, these curtains are ugly,” she dered, running her fingers along the fabric I had carefully selected toplement the room’s color scheme.


    She moved to the antique vase I had found at a local market. “That vase shes horribly with


    the decor.”


    Her gaze then fell on the fresh flowers I had arranged that morning. She wrinkled her nose andined, “And those flowers–I’m allergic to pollen, can you toss them out?”


    Ethan, seeking <i>to </i>appease her, said perfunctorily, “Change whatever you don’t like.”


    His gaze flickered <i>to </i>me, almost as if testing my reaction. “Since you’re allergic, throw them


    away.”


    I sat quietly, keeping my expression neutral as I watched their little performance. This wasn’t


    < Chapter 12. Territorial ims…


    +25 Puntos


    truly my home anymore, so what did it matter if she wanted to redecorate? In a week’s time, I


    would be gone, and she could paint the walls neon pink for all I cared.


    Cassandra mistook my silence for defeat and smirked triumphantly, feeling she had won this


    silent battle. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she continued pointing out everything she


    wanted to change.


    Ethan called out to Martha, instructing her coldly, “Get rid of these flowers.”


    Martha hesitated, her loyalty to me evident in her reluctance. She whispered, “But sir, Miss


    Winters bought those.”


    His face darkened at her defiance. “So what? Do you forget who pays your sry?”


    The threat was clear–Martha’s position depended on her obedience to him, not her affection


    for me. I felt a pang of sympathy for the housekeeper caught in our power struggle.


    “It’s fine, Martha,” I interjected softly. “Just throw them out.”


    The loyal housekeeper reluctantly obeyed, though I could see her cursing inwardly at the


    “crazy master and crazydy.” I knew she particrly resented the gloomy days of nd


    vegetarian meals since Cassandra’s arrival.


    Cassandra, emboldened by her victory with the flowers, clung coquettishly to Ethan’s arm.


    “Ethan, tomorrowe shopping for curtains with me.”


    Ethan nced instinctively at me, perhaps expecting jealousy or protest. Instead, he found me


    utterly calm, devoid of any visible reaction. My indifference seemed to irritate him more than any angry outburst would have.


    Wasn’t I too obedient, too silent? Wasn’t a hint of jealousy normal? The very qualities he once appreciated in me–my patience, my understanding–now seemed to frustrate him.


    Cassandra shook his arm impatiently when he didn’t immediately respond. “Ethan, did you


    hear me?”


    He pulled back his gaze from me, suppressing whatever emotions were brewing beneath his


    surface. “Mm,” he answered with a low, muffled sound of agreement.


    The next day, while I was out running errands, Cassandra went on her shopping spree. When I


    returned to Moonlight Manor, the ce was in chaos.


    Workers moved throughout the house, removing curtains, recing decorative items, and rearranging furniture. Cassandra had ostentatiously purchased a mountain of home decor,manding the staff to rece everything I had once carefully selected.


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    < Chapter 12 Territonal ims


    +25 <b>Puntos </b>>


    My curtains, chosen for their subtle pattern that caught the morning light just so, were being tossed unceremoniously intorge trash bags. The artwork I had selected toplement the


    manor’s architecture was being reced with gaudy, oversized pieces that overwhelmed the


    space.


    Everything that had once made this ce feel like home to me was being ruthlessly


    discarded. When our eyes met across the chaotic living room, Cassandra’s gaze was smug


    and victorious.


    I simply swept my eyes over the busy workers and the piles of new furnishings before turning silently toward the stairs. Let her have her petty victory. Let her mark her territory like an


    animal iming a new den.


    In my room, I methodically began packing what I nned to take with me to Riverdale. I sorted through my belongings, deciding what to discard and what to keep, leaving out only the


    necessities for my remaining days here.


    I had hoped for a peaceful coexistence in these final days at Moonlight Manor, but Cassandra


    clearly intended to force me out by any means necessary.


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