Sienna's new bedroom smelled like bleach and desperation.
The floors were polished within an inch of their life, the curtains newly steamed, the bedsheets crisp and clinical. Every trace of the last occupant—whoever she was—had been scrubbed out like a scandal, probably by someone who feared the "cursed bride" might bring death just by breathing.
Sienna stood in the center of the pristine space, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over every corner.
So this was the welcome the Lancaster family prepared for her. Not flowers. Not warmth. Just sanitized walls and furniture stiff with discomfort.
As the sun dipped low, painting the walls with blood-orange light, a knock sounded at the door.
Before she could answer, it creaked open.
Joyce Lancaster, tall, poised, and smirking in silk, stepped inside like she owned the house—or wanted to. She held a porcelain tray with two teacups, steam rising in elegant spirals.
"Cousin Silas thought you might need something to warm you up," Joyce said sweetly, voice dripping honey over steel. "Country girls always catch a chill in proper houses."
Sienna's eyes flicked to the tea. The scent hit her nose a half second later: jasmine with a twist of something sharper.
Bitter almonds. Cyanide. Sloppy.
She offered a tight-lipped smile. "How thoughtful."
Then—without breaking eye contact—she picked up the cup, walked over to a delicate orchid on the windowsill, and poured it out.
The tea soaked the roots for only a moment before the green leaves began to curl and blacken at the edges, decaying before their eyes.
Joyce's mask of polite malice slipped.
"You—"
Sienna turned slowly, letting the silence stretch until it stung. Then she dipped one finger in the leftover tea, and with surgical precision, flicked a single droplet onto the toe of Joyce's satin slipper.
"Oops." Her voice was soft, but lethal."Wouldn't want to explain to Matriarch how her new daughter-in-law found poison in her wedding tea... would you?"
Joyce paled.
The tray trembled in her grip.But Sienna didn't flinch. Didn't raise her voice. Didn't move closer.
She didn't have to.
Predators don't chase. They wait.
"Now get out," she added, stepping aside with a mockingly gracious sweep of her arm. "Before someone less merciful than me decides to finish what you started."
Joyce backed out of the room like a snake pretending to be a lady.
Sienna closed the door behind her with a click, then leaned her forehead against the cool wood, letting herself exhale.
So. The Lancasters wanted her gone.
Too bad. She wasn't here to be welcomed.
She was here to take her place.
And maybe—just maybe—burn this house down from the inside out.