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♪ Tell me where you wanted to goI bet you wanted me to follow ♪{BANKS—Weaker Girl}EXPLICIT WARNING—for the song

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♪ Tell me where you wanted to go
I bet you wanted me to follow ♪
{BANKS—Weaker Girl}
EXPLICIT WARNING—for the song

She had to do something. Had to confront those who had harmed her and those around her, and get more answers. She feared what Nestor would do if she came too close to him, but if she clarified that she knew all his antics... she had to bring him to justice, had to make him pay for the cruelties he performed for her father.

To her advantage, she did have a few allies on her side.

Once Jacob returned from his errands, Harriet summoned him and Nestor to her office. Jacob arrived first, and she waved at him to join her behind the desk.

"I have asked you here for protection," she whispered, hearing Nestor's thumping footsteps in the hallway. "And I request that you go along with whatever I say, understood?"

"Whatever you say?" Jacob's fresh, citrus-hinted cologne slithered into her nostrils and she tried not to sniff it up as he perched on the edge of the desk, facing her. His boot came inches from her arm, and she couldn't help but look up his calf, his thigh, his waist, her gaze trailing up to his confused expression.

"Do not be shocked at what I say, and... be aware that I am improvising." She sat up straight as a knock came from the door. "Come in, Nestor."

As he entered, Nestor smiled—then sighted Jacob, who whirled around at his arrival. "My Lady," Nestor bowed, and his smile faltered a bit as he acknowledged Jacob, "Sir Fletcher. What is the matter?"

"Have a seat, my... friend," said Harriet, her tongue trying to twist in her mouth, to make her say how she really felt.

Traitor. Abuser. Foe.

At his approach, Harriet noticed there were dark bags under Nestor's eyes. Gray and brown stubble smeared across his wide jaw, and he hadn't properly buttoned his coat—a few buttons were in the wrong holes. His black shirt beneath was ruffled, stained with dust or dirt. "How are you adjusting, Harriet?"

She bit her lip before blurting out that he had no right to call her that. He had no right to speak to her at all. "I heard of a... commotion, earlier, in the basement. What happened?"

As she'd hoped, the mention of the event triggered Nestor, causing him to flinch. His cheeks blotched with crimson and he gritted his teeth in a fake grin. "The vault... was broken into."

Jacob, who'd gotten up and glued himself to the side of Harriet's chair, stirred. Harriet's eyebrows elevated. "The vault? What vault? I did not know we had a vault."

Nestor's nostrils twitched. "Ah, well... it was an area of the basement that your father forbade you to visit. He ensured you would believe it to be a myth."

"Why?" Harriet didn't miss a beat. She had no clue where her confidence came from—perhaps from Jacob's presence, or because she knew so much more than Nestor seemed aware.

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