"So you say." He dips his head in her direction, and I don't miss the way his eyes linger on her for a moment longer than what would be considered appropriate.

"How is the thrilling life of the judicial system treating you?" she asks. "Sentence any poor souls to their death over lunch today?"

"Only the ones who deserve it," he answers. "How is the life of a spoiled princess treating you? Have you left any vanity in the department stores for the other socialites?"

Storm clouds roll into her eyes, and her red lips part, speechless, for the first time in perhaps forever. She smooths a dark strand of hair from her face, attempting to gather her wits when I decide to save her from this strange interaction between them.

"What do you want, Mercedes?"

"I have returned your wife," she spits the words out venomously. "Not a hair on her head displaced, of course. And I am here to give you a full report."

Judge smiles at her obvious irritation and rises to his feet, collecting his folder from the desk. "Then I suppose I better be on my way."

After my sister’s full report, she takes her leave from my study with instructions to find something productive to do with her time. I can't help noticing that she seemed flustered and irritated throughout her rendition of the day’s events, and I'm not certain if it's because of Ivy or Judge's biting but accurate assessment of her.

Regardless, I push those thoughts aside and finish my work for the day before I go in search of Antonia. I find her dusting the shelves in the library and nearly startle the life from her once again when she turns to see me standing there.

"Oh!" She gasps. "I didn't hear you, Mas... I mean, Santiago. Sir."

She seems out of sorts today and a little tired. I often wonder how long I will be able to keep her on staff. Though she has been given many opportunities to leave, should she like, the woman seems determined to remain at the manor until her dying breath. I am too proud to admit that I am grateful for that because the house wouldn't be the same without her.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks.

I hesitate, uncertain how I might phrase my proposition. She waits patiently, her eyes kindly remaining on my face without any sign of revulsion.

"How is Mrs. De La Rosa this afternoon?" I ask.

"Fine." She answers with a hint of confusion. "Last I saw, she was reading. I did suggest a nap since she seemed a little tired. But other than that—"

"I would like you to inform her that she is to have dinner with me this evening.”

A small hint of a smile brightens her face. "Oh, yes of course. Would you like something special? I can change the menu if you'd like."