Alice took a breath, refusing to be baited. “It’s a big change, but I’ve found that being real matters more than any zip code.” Tiffany narrowed her eyes, surprised by the pushback. Before she could snap back, Nick intervened. “Tiffany, I’m sure there are other people here who want to hear your opinions. We’re busy.”
Tiffany threw Alice a venomous look and walked away. Alice remained composed, though her heart was racing. Nick looked at her with genuine pride. “Well handled,” he said. “I’m not going to let her get to me,” Alice said firmly. “I know who I am.” Nick didn’t say anything, but something shifted inside him. Alice was no longer just a role he’d cast—she was becoming someone he actually wanted to be around.
Alice’s morning started in the garden, the one place she felt at home. But the peace was broken when the housekeeper brought out a plain envelope. “This came for you, Mrs. Sullivan.” There was no return address. Inside, Alice found a typed note that made her blood run cold. “You’ll never belong here. Stop the act before you get hurt,” it read. The words were full of spite.
She tried to stay calm, deciding not to tell Nick. She didn’t want to seem weak or give him a reason to doubt her. She tucked the note in a drawer. But the harassment didn’t stop. More notes followed, each one nastier than the last, calling her a gold-digger and a temporary distraction. It was clear someone wanted her gone.
Tiffany, meanwhile, was everywhere. She showed up at every social event Nick and Alice attended, never missing a chance to twist the knife. One afternoon, she even showed up at Nick’s office unannounced. “We need to talk about some old business,” she said, making herself at home in his guest chair. “I’m busy, Tiffany,” Nick said without looking up. “Make it quick.” She just smiled.
“You know Alice isn’t right for you. She’s a liability, a stain on your reputation. You can still fix this.” Nick finally looked up, his eyes like flint. “What exactly am I ‘fixing’? Your betrayal?” Tiffany leaned in, her voice dropping. “You’re still thinking about us. This marriage is just a way to hurt me, and we both know it.”
“You’re delusional,” he said flatly. “Get out of my office.” Tiffany left, but the look on her face was a warning. Late that night, Nick went into Alice’s room to look for some papers and found the notes in her drawer. Reading them, he felt a surge of protective fury. He knew this style—it was the work of someone who liked to strike from the shadows. Alice didn’t deserve this.
At breakfast the next morning, Nick laid the notes on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me about these?” he asked. Alice turned red, looking down at her plate. “It’s my problem. I didn’t want to bother you,” she said. He reached out and put his hand over hers. “Anything that happens in this house is my business. You’re my wife, and I won’t let anyone threaten you.” “Our marriage is a contract, remember?” she said, her voice trembling.
Nick paused, searching for the right words. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, but he did. “I won’t let anyone disrespect you, contract or not,” he said firmly. Alice looked at him, seeing a protector instead of a boss. A few days later, at another event, Tiffany tried to take another shot at Alice’s past.
“It’s amazing how quickly gardeners learn to wear silk,” she said loud enough for the room to hear. “But I suppose you can’t ever really wash off the smell of dirt.” Nick, standing right there, pulled Alice close and said in a voice that carried through the room:
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