Chapter 186

Chapter 186

Gloria kept her head down, gently swirling the baby bottle in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Henry looking thoughtful, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stood there without moving. Droplets of condensation slid down the bowl he was holding, slipping through his fingers and hitting the marble countertop with a soft, quiet sound.

Henry found himself thinking back to the moment Bianca had told him she was pregnant.

"What's wrong?"

Gloria noticed he'd been lost in thought for too long. She looked up, her gaze landing squarely on his face, carrying just the right amount of curiosity and concern.

"Nothing."

Henry snapped back at the sound of her voice. His throat moved as he swallowed, and he pulled his mouth into a smile — one that stayed on the surface and never reached his eyes.

"This formula actually smells pretty good."

"Want a taste?"

Gloria smiled, the corners of her eyes curving slightly. She held the bottle out toward him, her voice perfectly warm and easy.

She tilted her head, and a few loose strands of hair slipped from behind her ear, swaying gently against her cheek. She looked soft and composed, every bit the picture of grace.

Henry looked at her expression. The thoughts that had been churning through his mind a moment ago were barely pushed back down. He tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not a baby."

Gloria handed the bottle to the nanny and turned to head upstairs. She paused when she passed him, glancing over at him.

"If something's bothering you, just tell me. Don't keep it to yourself."

Henry blinked, then shook his head. "Really, it's nothing. Go feed the baby. I've got some work to handle in the study."

Gloria didn't push it. She nodded and walked away.

Henry stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her figure disappear around the bend of the staircase. The smile on his face faded bit by bit, leaving behind a deep exhaustion and something cold that he couldn't quite name.

He turned and walked into the study, shut the door, settled into the chair behind his desk, and sat in silence for a long time.

His mind kept circling back — to the nanny's offhand remark, to the panic Bianca couldn't hide when she faced Gloria, to Marlowe being used without even knowing it.

Gloria went back to the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

She leaned against it, closed her eyes, drew in a long slow breath, then let it out.

When she opened her eyes again, the softness she'd so carefully held in place downstairs was completely gone. What remained was a clarity that was calm to the point of being cold.

She walked to the window and pulled one side of the curtain open.

Outside, dusk had fully settled. The last thin strip of color was fading at the horizon, and the whole city sat wrapped in a murky blue-gray.

The glass reflected her face back at her — still eyes, a flat mouth, nothing readable.

She picked up her phone. Her fingertip hovered over the screen for a second, then pressed down.

It rang three times before someone picked up.

The first thing she heard was the rush of water — hot and steamy, the kind you could almost feel through the phone, warm and damp and close.

Then Leopold's voice came through, lazy and low, roughened by the heat of the water, winding its way into her ear.

"Well. You actually called me first. That's rare."

Gloria paused. The tips of her ears grew warm before she could stop it.

She instinctively pulled the phone half an inch from her ear, as if the voice were too close — close enough to cross some unspoken line, close enough to feel out of place.

"Are you in the shower? I can call back."

"Don't bother."

Leopold seemed to laugh, and then the water cut off.

Through the phone came the soft sound of a towel moving against skin, the faint wet slap of bare feet on tile, then his unhurried footsteps — one after another, moving from the steamy bathroom into what sounded like a dry, quiet bedroom.

"You already called. Go ahead. What is it."

Gloria pressed her lips together, pushed the discomfort aside, and let her voice settle back into something clean and businesslike.

"I need your help with something. In a couple of days, I'm going to find a way to get Marlowe digging into Bianca's background."

Leopold seemed to pause mid-motion — he stopped whatever he was doing and didn't say anything, just waited for her to go on.

"All your people need to do is quietly let slip Bianca's history with Joseph. Nothing too obvious. Just give Marlowe a thread. Let her pull it herself."

Leopold was quiet for two seconds, then let out a low laugh — not loud, but knowing, with a certain amusement behind it.

"You really do have Marlowe figured out. If she finds it herself, she'll believe it far more than if anyone just told her."

Gloria's gaze moved past the window and out into the city night.

Thousands of lights were coming on one by one, scattered and glittering, but her eyes were darker than the night itself, flickering with something dim and unreadable.

"Suspicion is like a seed. Once it's planted, it takes root on its own. You can't stop it. All I have to do is water it a little, at the right moment."

She paused. A faint edge crept into her voice.

"Bianca thinks pulling Marlowe in will put me on the defensive. But if they're going to be allies, they can share the pressure."

"I want to see what happens to that alliance the moment Marlowe starts wondering where Bianca's child actually came from."

Leopold listened. A few seconds passed, and then he laughed again — quiet, amused, with something in it that felt almost like admiration.

"Fine. I'll set it up. I've already got material on Joseph. I'll pick out what's useful and make sure she finds it."

"Thank you."

"Just a thank you?"

Leopold's voice dropped slightly, the end of the sentence lifting just enough to carry a hint of a smile.

Gloria lowered her eyes and didn't take the bait. She held the phone and said nothing for a moment.

Leopold pulled back immediately. His tone returned to its usual careless ease — clean, direct, nothing extra.

"Alright, I'm done. Hanging up."

The call screen went dark.

Gloria stood at the window holding her phone. Outside, the sky had gone completely black.

If Bianca wanted an unbreakable alliance so badly, then she'd give her one.

The one thing Marlowe could never stand was being played for a fool.

Let Marlowe find it herself. Let her confirm it herself. The fire that would start would do far more damage than anything Gloria could say.

The light on her phone screen died. The room went quiet. Nothing left but the sound of her own breathing.

Gloria turned, set the phone on the nightstand, and walked to the vanity. She sat down slowly.

The mirror showed a face with every performance stripped away — nothing in her expression but a still, settled coldness, like a lake frozen over in deep winter. Smooth on the surface. No bottom in sight.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and slowly, she let the corner of her mouth curl up.

Go ahead. Make a mess of it.

She was looking forward to watching.