Lady Beatrix stormed toward me, her face contorted with rage. I stood my ground, watching her approach with an odd sense of calm. For years, this woman had been the source of so many nightmares, but now, with freedom within my grasp, I found myself wondering why I'd ever feared her at all.
"You jealous little witch!" she hissed, jabbing a finger at me. "How dare you humiliate Clara like that?"
I tilted my head, studying her flushed face. "Jealous? Of Clara?" I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped my lips. "What exactly would I be jealous of? Her cruelty? Her emptiness?"
Lady Beatrix's nostrils flared. "You've always been jealous of her beauty, her accomplishments, her place in society. Everyone has always preferred Clara."
"Everyone? Or just you and Father?" I stepped closer, feeling oddly powerful. "You've hated me from the moment you set foot in this house. Not because I was jealous of Clara, but because I outshined her in every way that actually matters."
