?Chapter 1267:


    Rosie copsed onto the sofa, consumed by hopelessness.


    Sobbing, she eximed, “People are all horrible! They are ganging up on me, bullying me!”


    Rachael, carrying groceries from another property, tried tofort her, saying, “Miss Harper, have you considered reaching out to Mr. Nicolson to see if he would buy yourpanies?”


    Rosie shook her head. “I already asked. He’s not interested in expanding in Vand.”


    Rachael sighed. “Then selling at a loss might be the only option.”


    Rosie’s tear-streaked face twisted with anguish. “Why do they hate me so much? Brenna stole what was mine. Why can’t I make her pay? Who does she think she is? Why does everyone protect her?”


    “I’m so sorry, Miss Harper, I promised your parents I would look after you, but I can’t fix this,” Rachael said, guilt weighing on her. She then took the groceries to the kitchen. It waste, and she needed to cook something for Rosie and clean the dusty, neglected house.


    For several days, Rosie stayed indoors, her spirits sinking lower.


    Rachael moved her belongings from the other house and offeredfort whenever she could, but Rosie’s spirits remained low.


    On a weekend, Rachael received a package containing a bottle of liquid. After getting ready, she left the house and arrived at the Harper family mansion just before eleven in the morning. Even on weekends, the estate buzzed with activity, luxury carsing and going. Rachael waited at the gate for over half an hour, nearly until noon, but Brenna still hadn’t appeared.


    Brenna stirred awake naturally and checked her phone; it was already 11:40 AM. She stretched slowly, climbed out of bed, and went through her morning ritual of freshening up and slipping intofortable clothes. In the cozy dining room downstairs, only Giselle was present.


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    “Mrs. Harper, Miss Harper will be having lunch at home today. We’ve prepared several of her favorite dishes,” the chef announced.


    Giselle nodded approvingly. “How soon will lunch be ready? Brenna will be down any moment.”


    “Lunch will be served right at noon,” the chef replied respectfully.


    Brenna stepped into the dining room, inhaling deeply. “Something smells amazing! What’s on the menu today?”


    Giselle motioned for her to take a seat. “It’s been a while since you’ve eaten at home. It’s nice to have you here. We’ve made all your favorites.”


    Just then, Darrell, the security guard, approached with a grave expression. “Mrs. Harper, Miss Harper, we’ve detained a suspicious person near the gate. They’ve been lingering there for a long time, and we found sulfuric acid in her bag.” Giselle’s eyes sharpened with concern. “Who is it?”


    “It’s Rachael, the former maid. She had the acid with her, but she’s denying everything,” Darrell answered.


    “Bring her here,” Giselle said icily. “We treated her well when she worked here—generous pay, bonuses, even letting her take things we no longer needed. And now, she’s here with acid for revenge? I want answers.”


    Darrell nodded and left, returning shortly with Rachael.


    Giselle and Brenna moved to the living room as two guards brought Rachael in, her wrists secured behind her back.


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