Chapter 31 Ida’s Rage 1
Wednesday morning arrived with an unnatural stillness. The kind of silence that happens right before the sky breaks open.
I woke up in the Master Suite, alone again. Tristan had left early to finalize the security upgrades with Silas. I reached for my phone, scrolling through the news. The headlines were still focused on the Scandal, but the tone had shifted. My defense of the crew had played well. The public liked a fighter.
But Ida? Ida was silent.
It made my skin crawl.
I dressed quickly in work clothes. I went downstairs.
The foyer was buzzing with Silas’s team. They were installing reinforced steel shutters on the windows of the ground floor. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress preparing for a siege.
"Ms. Hayes," Silas nodded as I passed. "Surrounding is secure. No sign of the target."
"Keep watching," I said.
I walked into the kitchen. Tristan was there, pouring coffee. He looked exhausted but resolute.
"Morning," he said, handing me a cup.
"Morning. Any news from Vane?"
"She’s still in the city. Her flight to Zurich is tonight at 10:00 PM."
"She’s cutting it close," I said, taking a sip. "The party starts at 7:00."
"She’ll be here," Tristan said. "She won't leave without saying goodbye. Or trying to kill us."
Suddenly, a massive crash echoed from the front of the house.
It sounded like a car hitting a wall.
We both froze.
"The gate?" I asked.
"No," Tristan said, setting his cup down. "That was inside."
We ran.
We burst into the foyer.
The front doors were wide open. Sunlight streamed in, blindingly bright.
And standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by shattered glass and broken wood, was Ida.
She wasn't alone.
Behind her stood two men. Large. rough-looking. They were holding sledgehammers.
And they were swinging.
One of the men smashed a sledgehammer into the antique mirror hanging above the console table. Glass exploded outward, showering the floor in glittering shards.
"Stop!" Tristan roared.
Ida turned.
She looked... wild. Her hair was unkempt, flying around her face. Her clothes were disheveled. Her eyes were manic, burning with a feverish light.
"Tristan!" she cried, spreading her arms wide. "I’m helping!"
"Helping?" Tristan shouted, stepping over the debris. "You’re destroying the house!"
"It’s not right!" Ida screamed, pointing at the walls. "It’s all wrong! The colors! The light! She ruined it! She ruined everything!"
She pointed at me. Her finger was shaking.
"She’s trying to erase us, Tristan! She’s trying to paint over our memories! But I won't let her! I’m fixing it! I’m stripping it back down to the bone!"
She gestured to the men. "Break it! Break it all!"
The men raised their hammers.
"Silas!" I yelled.
Silas and his team emerged from the shadows of the hallway. They had guns. But they didn't raise them. These were hired thugs, not assassins. Shooting them would be a PR nightmare.
"Put the hammers down," Silas ordered, his voice calm and dangerous.
The thugs hesitated. They looked at Ida. Then at the guns.
They dropped the hammers. They turned and ran out the front door, jumping into a waiting van that sped away.
Ida was alone.
She stood in the center of the wreckage, breathing hard. She looked at the shattered mirror. She looked at the dents in the wall.
Then she looked at Tristan.
"They were weak," she spat. "Just like you."
Tristan walked toward her. He stopped five feet away.
"Why are you here, Ida?" he asked softly. "The party isn't until tonight."
"I couldn't wait," she whispered. Her eyes filled with sudden tears. "I missed you. I missed my home."
She looked around the foyer. Her gaze landed on the yellow paint visible through the open door of the dining room.
"Yellow," she hissed. "You painted it yellow. Like that... that room."
The nursery. She knew.
"It’s a memorial," Tristan said.
"It’s an insult!" Ida shrieked. She lunged at him, grabbing his lapels. "She lost that baby because she was weak! Her body rejected it! It was nature, Tristan! Nature trying to save you!"
Tristan grabbed her wrists. He held her away from him.
"You poisoned her," he said.
The words hung in the air.
Ida went still. Her eyes widened.
"What?" she whispered.
"I know," Tristan said. "Minerva told me. About the tea. About the cleaner in Mom’s soup. I know everything, Ida."
Ida stared at him. She looked for a lie in his eyes. She found none.
She didn't deny it. She didn't cry.
She smiled.
It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated relief.
"Finally," she breathed. "Finally, you see me."
She stepped back, pulling her wrists free.
"I did it for you," she said. "All of it. Mom was weak. She was dying anyway. I just... sped it up. So you wouldn't have to watch her suffer. And the baby? A baby would have taken you away from me. You would have been a father. You would have forgotten your sister."
"I would never have forgotten you," Tristan said, his voice breaking. "But I can never forgive you."
Ida laughed. A high, thin sound.
"Forgive?" she asked. "I don't want your forgiveness, Tristan. I want your devotion. And if I can't have that..."
She reached into her purse.
"Silas!" I screamed.
Ida pulled out the gun.
But she didn't point it at Tristan. And she didn't point it at me.
She pointed it at the chandelier.
The massive, crystal chandelier that hung above the foyer. The one that weighed a thousand pounds.
She fired.
The bullet hit the chain.
The chain snapped.
"Move!" Tristan shouted.
He tackled me. He threw me to the ground, covering my body with his.
The chandelier fell.
It crashed into the floor with the sound of a bomb going off. Crystal shattered. Metal twisted. Dust billowed up, choking us.
Silence.
I coughed, waving the dust away. Tristan lifted his head.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I’m fine."
We looked up.
Ida was gone.
She had used the chaos to slip out the front door.
Silas ran to the door. "She’s in a car! Heading for the gate!"
"Let her go," Tristan said, standing up and pulling me with him.
"Let her go?" I asked, wiping dust from my face. "Tristan, she just tried to crush us."
"She’s coming back tonight," he said. "She has to. She has a ticket to Zurich. She thinks she made her point. She thinks she scared us."
He looked at the shattered chandelier. He looked at the broken mirror.
"She didn't scare us," he said. "She just cleared the stage."
He turned to Silas.
"Clean this up," he ordered. "I want this foyer spotless by 6:00 PM. And Silas?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Unlock the gun safe. Tonight... we might need more than words."