“Good grief, Harry, what on earth is she wearing?” Margaret Harrington’s voice dripped with poisonous sweetness she didn’t bother to hide. “That dress looks straight out of a charity shop. Saw one just like it last weekend at a car boot sale. Can’t have cost more than twenty quid.”
I quietly straightened the collar of my simple blue dress – modest, affordable. Like everything I owned. It was part of the strict agreement I’d made with my grandfather.
Harry, my husband, coughed awkwardly and looked away.
“Mum, that’s enough. The dress is fine.”
“Fine?” his sister Emily shrieked, fanning the flames. “Harry, your wife dresses like she shops at Poundland. Then again, what can you expect from an orphan from the countryside?”
She gave me a scornful once-over, her eyes lingering on my slender wrists. Poorly concealed triumph glittered in her gaze.
“You could at least wear some jewellery. Oh waityou dont own any, do you?”
I met her gaze calmly, coolly, as if studying a lab specimen.
In my mind, I noted: *Subject No. 2 – Emily. Aggression: high. Motivation: envy, power through humiliation.*
It was like observing a pack of wolves. Predictable.
Margaret sighed theatrically and flopped onto the sofa beside me, her hand heavy on my shoulder. She reeked of cheap perfume and fried food.
“Lily, were not being cruel. We just want what’s best for you. Its just our Harry is a man of status, a manager, well-respected. And you well, you understand.”
She paused, waiting for tears, excuses, a trembling voice. None came. I simply observed.
Where was the Harry I fell in love with? The confident, witty, free-spirited man? Now he sat like a shadowa puppet in his mother and sisters hands.
“Ive had a brilliant idea!” Margaret beamed. “You still have your mothers earrings, dont you? The ones with the tiny gems? You never wear them. Lets sell them.”
Harry choked on air.
“Mum, seriously? Theyre sentimental!”
“Oh, sentimental my foot,” Margaret scoffed. “Sentimental about being poor? At least theyd be useful. With the money, well buy Lily some decent clothes. And a new barbecue for the garden. Everyone wins.”
Emily chimed in:
“Exactly! Those earrings look ridiculous on her anyway.”
They didnt realise they werent humiliating me. They were exposing themselvestheir pettiness, greed, and utter lack of grace.
I studied their smug faces, their self-satisfied smirks. Every word, every gesturetextbook behaviour. Perfect for my research.
The experiment was going exactly to plan.
“Alright,” I said softly.
Silence. Even Harry stared at me, stunned.
“What do you mean, alright?” Margaret demanded.
“Ill sell them,” I said with a small smile. “If its what the family needs.”
Margaret and Emily exchanged glances. Doubt flickered briefly before vanishing beneath their triumph. Once again, they mistook strategy for surrender.
To me, they werent familythey were chess pieces. And theyd just walked right into my trap.
The next day, Margaret dragged me to a pawnshop. Emily tagged along, treating it like a spectacle. Harry drove in silence, grim-faced. He tried to protest, but his mother snapped:
“Dont interfere! Cant you see she dresses like a beggar?”
The pawnshop was cramped, the air thick with the smell of tarnished metal. The assessora weary-eyed mantook the velvet box I handed him.
He studied the earrings under a loupe for ages. Margaret tapped her nails impatiently on the counter.
“Well? Theyre gold, yes? The stones sparkle. Youll give us eighty quid?”
The man snorted.
“Gold, sure, 9-carat. But the stones are cubic zirconia. Cheap work. Fifty quid. And thats generous.”
Margarets face fell. Emily scoffed:
“Fifty? That wont even buy boots!”
I played my part perfectly. Leaned in and said meekly:
“Maybe we shouldnt? Theyre sentimental And fifty is so little. Perhaps another shop?”
A calculated movea fake compromise doomed to fail.
“Quiet, Lily!” Margaret snapped. “What do you know? The man says fifty, so fifty it is!”
Emily added:
“Exactly! Or youll drag us all over London and get even less. You ruin everything with your stubbornness.”
Harry tried again:
“Mum, maybe a proper jeweller”
“Shut it!” Emily cut him off. “Under her thumb now, are you? *We* decide whats best!”
They took the money. Right there on the pavement, they split it. Thirty to Margaret: “For the barbecue and plants.” Twenty to Emily: “For a manicure.”
“And my new clothes?” I asked softly, still in character.
Emily laughed in my face:
“Oh, Lily, dont be daft. That wont even cover Primark.”
They left, smug, abandoning me with Harry. He looked broken. He hadnt defended meor my mothers memory. Another mark against him.
“Sorry,” he muttered at the ground.
“Its fine,” I said gently, taking his arm. “I understand. Theyre your family.”
But the real blow came that evening.
Returning home, I saw my laptop was gone. An ordinary-looking machine, but triple-encrypted. My gateway to reports, analyticseverything.
My heart froze. My face stayed calm.
“Harry, wheres my laptop?”
Emily waltzed in, grinning.
“Oh, that ancient thing? I took it. Mine broke, and Ive got deadlines. What do you need it for? You dont work. Watch telly on your phone.”
I turned slowly. Inside, a switch flipped. *Finally.*
The trap was sprung. The last piece fell into place.
That laptop wasnt just a deviceit was my lifeline. Encrypted, unhackable. Inside: every detail of my experiment. But that wasnt the point.
Theft. Blatant. Shameless. As if I were nothing.
I looked at Harry. His final test.
“Harry, get my laptop back,” I said softlya command disguised as a request.
He hesitated, eyes darting between Emily and me.
“Em, just give it back. Its hers.”
“Oh, come off it!” Emily scoffed, flopping onto the sofa. “Youre taking her side now? I *need* it! Well buy her a new one when you get your bonus.”
“Lily, you heard her,” Harry said helplessly. “She needs it for work. Be reasonable.”
Something inside me shattered.
This was it. He hadnt just stayed silenthed *sided* with them. Justified them.
The Harry I lovedconfident, honestwas gone. Only this shadow remained.
Enough.
Experiment over. Data conclusive.
I pulled out an old flip phone. Dialled “Curator.” That number existed for one purposefinal phase activation.
“James, good evening,” I said coolly, my voice foreign even to me. “Observation complete. Proceed. All three subjects. Initiate Protocol Reckoning. Start with the sister.”
I hung up. Set the phone down. Met Emilys mockingyet suddenly nervousgaze.
“You have ten minutes to return my laptop. Exactly as it was.”
Emily giggled:
“Ooh, scary! Who even *are* you?”
“Im not threatening,” I said icily. “Im informing. In nine minutes, your urgent project will vanish from your companys servers. Five minutes later, your boss will have proof you leaked trade secrets. Thats corporate espionage. A criminal offence.”
Her face drained of colour.
“Youre lying!”
“Nine minutes,” I said, checking the phone. “Clocks ticking.”
Emilys phone rang. Screen: “MR. THOMPSON.” Her boss.
She grabbed it, hands shaking.
“Sir? What? No, that wasntIts a mistake!”
She stared at me, terrified. I nodded at the wardrobe. She scrambled, hurled the laptop onto the bed.
“Here! Take it! Call it off!”
“Too late,” I said calmly. “Process started.”
Harry finally found his voice:
“Lily, what have you *done*? Shes my sister!”
I turned slowly. No more masks.
“You still dont get it? You thought I was some poor country girl you could walk over? That I was furniture, not a person?”
I walked to the window. Below, a black Range Rover idledsubtle, but telling.
“My surname isnt Smith. Its Windsor. My grandfatherthe man you thought was just a
