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Too Late, Mr. Winters: I'm No Victim Novel Cover

Too Late, Mr. Winters: I'm No Victim

I lived in Ellery Winters’ penthouse for two years, playing the role of the quiet, unremarkable girl who fixed his financial messes in the dark. I thought we had a partnership, until I walked in to find my belongings packed in a black garbage bag near the door. Ellery stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a silhouette of ice, refusing to even look at me. On the marble table sat a "Termination of Relations" agreement and a one-million-dollar check. "Sign it," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He was discarding me to marry my sister, Claudine, as part of a strategic merger with the Fitzgeralds—the very family that had abandoned me to the foster system years ago. My mother, Victoria, didn't want a daughter; she wanted a tool to secure the Winters’ fortune. Silas, his assistant, looked at me with pity, expecting the "trailer park girl" to break down and beg for the hush money. They all thought I was a nobody, a line item to be deleted from the balance sheet of their lives so they could move on to their high-society wedding. I felt a cold, sharp rage bubbling up, the kind that only someone who has lived in the shadows can truly feel. I didn't beg, and I didn't scream. I just looked at the man I had protected for two years and realized he had no idea who I actually was. Why did they think I was helpless? Why did Ellery believe he could buy my silence when I knew every dirty secret buried in his Cayman accounts? I ripped the million-dollar check into confetti and dropped it in the trash. As I stepped back into the decaying Fitzgerald mansion as an "Honorary Ward," I wasn't coming home for a reunion—I was coming to dismantle both of their empires from the inside.
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Chapter 8

The dining room was dimly lit by candles. The long table was set with crystal that cost more than Arla's entire childhood home.

Victoria and Claudine were already seated, dressed in loud, sequined gowns.

Arla hadn't come down yet.

Rose tapped her glass with a spoon. Ting. Ting.

"Tonight," Rose announced, "I am introducing a new member of the household."

The double doors opened.

Arla walked in.

She was wearing the same jeans and turtleneck from her arrival. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She looked like a stray cat that had wandered into a palace.

The room went silent.

Ellery, seated at the head of the table in his wheelchair, watched her. His fork, held in a hand that was supposed to be weak, gripped so hard his knuckles turned white.

Arla walked to Rose and placed a hand on the old woman's shoulder.

"Arla is now my Honorary Ward," Rose said. "Her voice is my voice."

Victoria dropped her wine glass. Red liquid stained the white tablecloth like blood.

"What?" Claudine shrieked. "She's the help!"

"Here," Rose said coldly, "she is family. You are the guest."

Arla turned her head. She looked at Ellery. She smiled, a small, pitying smile.

"Looks like we'll be spending a lot more time together," she said, her tone syrupy. "Don't you worry, I'll take good care of you."

Ellery's eye twitched.

The staff brought the soup. They served Arla first.

Claudine kicked the table leg. "This is ridiculous."

Arla picked up her soup spoon, held it like a shovel, and began to eat with loud, obnoxious slurps. She ignored the horrified looks from Victoria and Claudine, her eyes fixed on Ellery. She was playing her part to perfection.

Victoria scoffed. "She didn't even finish high school."

"That's what you think," Arla murmured into her spoon, loud enough for only herself to hear.

Dinner ended in tense silence. As everyone stood up, Silas began to wheel Ellery away. Ellery's hand moved, just slightly, and brushed against Arla's chair as he passed. He left a small, folded piece of paper on the seat.

She palmed it without looking. When she read it under the table, it contained two words.

Library. Now.

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