A few days before Amelia Frost paid her visit to Alice, the plan had already taken root.
It had come to her in pieces—small moments of irritation, the quiet pang of jealousy every time she saw Julies Evans standing beside Alice, as though he belonged there.
She knew it wasn't right to feel this way. He was only a servant—a baron's son who, by all rights, should never have had the chance to stand in the same light as Alice, let alone share in it.
And yet, he was there. Always.
She could picture it even now: Alice speaking to him in that calm, unhurried tone; the faint, rare smile she would give when he said something clever. It made Amelia's chest tighten in a way she didn't like.
The worst part was the way Alice allowed it—no, welcomed it.
The thought gnawed at her until it became unbearable.
That was when the idea struck her.
Brilliant. Simple. Effective.
