Chapter 237
Chapter 237:
“Wear the navy blue,” Azalea advised, pointing a trembling finger at a sheath dress on the rack. “Jeannine hates bright colors. She calls them ‘vulgar.’ If you wear red, she’ll spend the entire night staring at you like you’re a neon sign in a cathedral p>
Eliza lifted the navy dress off its hanger. The fabric was heavy, expensive silk. “Jeannine… you call her by her first name p>
“She doesn’t like ‘Grandma,’” Azalea said, rolling her eyes, though the fear never left her face. “Makes her feel old. She prefers to pretend she simply materialized as a fully formed, elegant statue at age forty.” She picked at a loose thread on the velvet ottoman. “She cares about image. And bloodlines. Especially bloodlines p>
Eliza paused, holding the dress against her body and studying Azalea’s reflection in the mirror. The girl looked small, huddled on the ottoman.
“Is that why she hates you?” Eliza asked softly. “Because of the ‘traitor’ comment p>
Azalea sighed and dropped her hand from her mouth. “You know the basics, El, but let me tell you what really happened p>
“He told me,” Eliza said, turning around. “He married your mom to give you a name. To protect you p>
“Yeah,” Azalea nodded. “But did he tell you why? My real dad was a soldier. He served with Dallas. He died saving him in Syria p>
Eliza felt a pang of quiet sympathy. “That makes you a hero’s daughter p>
𝗜𝗻𝘁enѕe 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗮𝗇сe 𝘰ո
“Not to them.” Azalea laughed — a humorless, brittle sound. “To Ferd and Jeannine, I’m just a stray dog Dallas brought home. A reminder of the time he went ‘rogue’ and joined the military instead of sitting in a boardroom. They think my dad was low class. A grunt.” She paused. “Jeannine tried to stop Aunt Augustina from marrying her husband because he was ‘new money.’ Imagine what she thinks of me. A girl with no pedigree p>
“And me,” Eliza realized, the full weight of it settling on her shoulders. “A bankrupt Solomon. With a murderer for an uncle p>
“Exactly.” Azalea pointed a finger at Eliza, then at herself. “To them, you are a stain. I am a charity case. We are the blemishes on the perfect Koch portrait p>
“But Dallas doesn’t care,” Eliza said firmly. She stepped into the navy dress and zipped it up. It fit like a glove — stiff, formal, and cold. It felt like armor.
“Dallas hates them,” Azalea warned. “That’s why he protects us. But they have claws, Eliza. Ferd controls the family trust — or thinks he does. And Jeannine cuts with words p>
Eliza walked to the ottoman and held out her fist. “Then we stick together. The Stray and the Stain p>
Azalea looked up. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She bumped her fist against Eliza’s. “The Outcast Alliance p>
Forty minutes later, the black SUV wound its way up a long gravel driveway lined with ancient oak trees. The Koch Estate loomed ahead — not a house, but a gothic fortress of grey stone and dark windows, perched on a hill overlooking the Hudson River. It looked cold, imposing, and utterly devoid of warmth.
The car stopped before the massive double doors.