Chapter Fourteen Her

Chapter Fourteen Her

Present Day

After a night without sleep the bong of the doorbell was not a welcome wake-up call. The gate should be locked, so anyone getting to the front door would need

special access of some type. Probably Wyatt. Possibly Elias. Both options reminded me I needed to change the gate code as

well as every other security code in the house.

With a groan I lifted my head off the kitchen island. Not the best place to take a nap but the location had the benefit of

being near the coffeemaker. This was going to be a three-cup day.

I shuffled to the front door as I brought up the security app on my cellphone. The face peering into the outside camera made

me stop.

Kathryn. At my house.

Pretending not to be home was an option. That came in second to installing a trapdoor right by the entrance to eliminate unwanted

guests. One push of the button and— whoosh —they’d be gone.

Back in reality, I opened the door. Kathryn stood there, dressed like she was on her way to one of her fancy literary luncheons. She pulled off a cream-colored pantsuit and matching blouse. The kind of outfit most people would have stained with a pen mark ten seconds after they put it on.

Not a mark on it and, as usual, not a blond hair out of place. She wore it in a bob just above her shoulders. Straight, smooth,

and expensive. The style matched her jewelry. A thin gold chain with diamonds and a bracelet with more diamonds. The woman

reeked of wealth.

She also wasn’t invited. “How did you get past the gate?”

Kathryn tucked her clutch bag under her right arm and sighed, as if she was the one barely tolerating this visit. “I know

my way around the property. This used to be my house.”

“We both know you never lived here. If I remember correctly it was being painted pre-move-in when Richmond asked for a divorce.”

I kept my hand on the door, blocking any chance of her wandering inside.

“Thanks to you.” Kathryn’s mouth twisted in a frown as she looked me up and down. The expression of distaste ruined her otherwise

impressively smooth skin and pretty face. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Lounge pants, a frayed T-shirt, and pink bunny slippers. My favorite outfit. “My Tuesday ballgown is in the washing machine.”

Kathryn made a huffing sound and waved her hand in the air. “Let me in.”

Oh, come on. Did people really jump at her barking commands? “Uh, no.”

“We need to talk. This is the kind of information that should remain private.”

Intriguing. Knowing I’d regret it, I conceded and stepped back so she could slither inside. “Go directly to the kitchen. I don’t need you skulking around.”

“I assure you I do not skulk .” Her heels clicked on the marble entry as she walked straight through to the kitchen as ordered. She scanned the room, taking

in every inch, before standing next to the breakfast bar. Perfect posture on full display.

I couldn’t figure her out, and I’d tried. I watched her for weeks before I moved in on Richmond. She greeted everyone with

a smile. Remembered names and little details about them. An impressive skill, actually. When the spotlight shifted off her,

her expression changed. Hardened, void of emotion.

My initial reaction was she’d been playing the role of Mrs. Dougherty for so long, tolerating his cheating and dismissal,

that she’d lost herself. Then I watched her with him during a flower show gala she chaired. An event I didn’t even know existed.

They presented as a couple more in sync than in love. Fake, driven, and unconcerned about the victims they left in their wake.

That day she’d fought with two patrons who dared to question her, resorting to a do you know who I am argument to get her way. Kathryn wasn’t one to fade into the background. She thrived off Richmond’s reputation. Used it,

threw it around, and demanded respect just because of her name. His perfect wife. Ruthless on the inside with an attractive

exterior.

The close-in gala view killed most of the sympathy I might have had for her. “What do you want, Kathryn?”

“It’s time for you to leave.”

Honestly, this bitch could not stop. Entitlement thrummed off her. “My house, this town, or the state?”

“All of the above.” She made the comment without a hint of self-awareness, standing there like she owned the place.

I borrowed a terse answer from Elias’s playbook. “No.”

“We both know you forced my husband into marriage—”

“ My husband.” That was the only time saying the phrase didn’t make me cringe.

“He gave in to you and look what happened.” Kathryn lifted her hands in the air as if she’d spilled some big secret. “I warned

him.”

I refused to make this ridiculous conversation easy on her. She stormed into my house before noon making demands. She deserved

what she got.

“He’s dead. Likely by your hand,” she said.

Another cup of coffee. That was the answer.

“You have the benefit of his last name.” She set her leather clutch on top of the breakfast bar but wisely didn’t sit. “There

is nothing more for you in this town.”

I poured a cup, not bothering to offer her one. She wasn’t staying. “But everyone is so nice and welcoming here.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated.”

“That’s a shame because sarcasm makes up a large portion of my personality.”

Kathryn kept right on talking. “Your experience at the café yesterday was only a peek into the resounding dismissal you can

expect without Richmond to protect you.”

“Funny how you know about my trip.”

“Despite your prestigious last name, which you should surrender, no restaurant will take your reservation. No store will accommodate

you. I’m not sure where you’re getting your groceries, but I’ll stop that, too.”

That was quite the list of threats. “Are you done talking yet?”

“You should take this seriously. I can and will make your life difficult. No allies. No friends.” She made a tsk-tsk sound. “If you think your days are dreary now, just wait. One word from me and no one will accept you or your stolen money.”

Stolen. Interesting word choice.

“Addison, hear me when I promise that you’re finished in this town.” She smiled. “Now I’m done.”