“What incense? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Althea flat-out denied it, and then turned the accusation back on Lindsay. “You’re just picking on me because my husband isn’t here. First you bully my son, and now you come after me.
Lindsay, I’m warning you—don’t push your luck. I’ve treated you more than fairly all these years.”
Treated her fairly?
Lindsay gave a cold laugh. “You’ve got some nerve, Althea. I won’t stoop to your level, but you’re not getting away with this. You owe Yves an explanation today—about the incense.”
“An explanation for what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Althea tried to shift the focus to Lester’s dismissal. “You and your cronies forced my son out of the company. I’m worried sick about him—so excuse me if I don’t have the energy to sit here and argue.”
With that, Althea spun on her heel and marched toward the door, her heart thudding faster with every step.
She had barely reached the foyer when two security guards blocked her path. Panic flickered across her face. Even the guards were in on this—clearly, Lindsay had planned everything in advance.
“Lee, bring the housekeeper from the fourth floor to the main hall,” Lindsay instructed the butler.
She’d anticipated Althea would try to make a break for it. Before dinner even began, Lindsay had stationed the guards at the entrance, ready to stop her.
The butler hurried off and soon returned with the housekeeper in tow.
“What exactly did Mrs. Althea Quigley ask you to do in Yves' bedroom every day?” Lindsay asked, fixing her gaze on the housekeeper.
The woman answered honestly, “Mrs. Quigley told me to light incense in Mr. Yves' room at least three times a day. If it burned out, I was to light a new stick right away.”


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