If Lindsay had said all this last night, Cheryl would’ve been sentenced on the spot.
But things had changed; Lindsay’s anger had faded, and right now, she just needed someone to be on her side. Cheryl was the perfect candidate.
“He probably thinks I’m being petty! Alexia could’ve just thanked me in person, but no—she had to show up at Quigley Manor and make a scene. It’s obviously just for Yves to see, isn’t it?”
Cheryl nodded in emphatic agreement. “Exactly! Who would’ve thought Alexia could be that calculating? She looks all sweet and innocent—guess I let the ‘Charles' little sister’ filter cloud my judgment. I bet Yves is the same.”
“He’s not. He’s just dazzled by her youth and looks.” Lindsay’s tone was sharp, tinged with jealousy—though she might not even realize it herself.
“Honestly, I think you’re so much prettier than she is. I mean that,” Cheryl said, her face sincere.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not as young as she is.”
“Oh, come on! You’re only twenty-three! That’s the best age, isn’t it? Eighteen is way too young—Yves would never go for that.”
“You’re not him. How would you know?”
“Because I’ve known him for over a decade, that’s how. I can say with one hundred percent certainty: Alexia is not his type. He’s only nice to her because of Charles. If it weren’t for Charles, Alexia wouldn’t matter at all.” Cheryl’s words were blunt, but they rang true.
Their kindness to Alexia was all because she was Charles' little sister. Without that connection, she’d have faded into the background long ago.


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