Expensive jewelry kept vanishing from the dressing room.
We had a housekeeper, but Bernice acted as though the woman didn't exist. She took pleasure in ordering me around instead.
If I refused, she'd throw a screaming fit:
"I have depression! You hear me? If anyone upsets me, I'll kill myself!"
"And when I do, it's on you—you and Professor Baxter both. That's blood on your hands. Is that how a teacher treats her students?"
Her gaze drifted past me and settled on Curt's face.
Not pleading. Triumphant.
A thief's eyes—someone who'd already claimed my home and was sizing up my husband.
After that, the "accidents" started.
She swapped the potted plants in the guest room for fresh-cut flowers.
The allergic reaction nearly killed her. She ended up in the hospital, missed her thesis defense entirely—then told everyone I'd done it on purpose to sabotage her graduation.
Walking down the stairs, she would suddenly collapse.
And she'd let everyone blame me for pushing her, for being cruel and vicious.
To help her finish her degree, I invited her to assist in the lab so she could earn extra credits.
She turned around and upended an entire bottle of sulfuric acid over me.