Chapter 7

“Huh?” Albert perked up, his rag pausing mid-swipe across the window. “What’s that mean?”

“If I’m reading her right, Daisy’s the type who craves control,” Ethan said, his voice low but sharp. “When things slip her grasp, she gets antsy. So she grabs the reins whenever she can.”

He swept the broom across the floor, movements steady, methodical. “Her little stunt earlier, stirring up that gender spat? Just a test. She wanted to see how we’d react, gauge how much sway she could snatch, and spot who might back her.”

“No way.” Albert’s hand stilled, his brow creasing. “That girl’s scheming that deep?”

“Uncle Albert, you’re older than me, been around the block longer,” Ethan said, shooting him a sidelong glance. “No need to play dumb.”

Albert chuckled, a dry, sheepish sound. “Alright, alright. What’s the second part?”

“She’s hunting for someone to puppet.” Ethan dunked the mop into the bucket, water sloshing. “Puts on her tough act to see which women are soft targets, ripe for her to steer.”

He worked fast, like he’d cleaned a hundred rooms before, not a bead of sweat on him despite the pace. “Two out of three pushed back. Grace, though? Shy, no street smarts. Perfect pick for a roommate.”

“You mean she’s looking for a lackey?”

“More like a scapegoat.” Ethan dragged the mop across the floor, the wet streaks gleaming under the light. “This Castle’s a death trap. She wants someone she can shove into harm’s way when push comes to shove.”