"Maybe."
She considered it. "When we were children, yes."
"And now?"
A shadow crossed her expression. "Now is more complicated." Nathaniel waited. Eventually, she sighed. "After my mother died, Victoria spent several years living here." Her gaze drifted toward the window. "We were nearly inseparable."
"What changed?"
Genevieve laughed softly. "I wish I knew." The answer sounded honest. "One year we were sharing secrets." Her smile faded. "The next year, everything felt different."
"Different how?"
Genevieve looked down at the documents. "Competitive." The word seemed difficult for her to say. "People compared us constantly: who was prettier, who was more charming, who would marry first." She shook her head. "The comparisons never stopped."
Nathaniel felt a growing sense of understanding. "And Victoria resented it?"
"Maybe." Genevieve looked uncertain. "Or maybe I imagined it."
Nathaniel doubted that strongly.
The following day confirmed his suspicions. Carter Estate hosted a small charity planning meeting attended by local families. Genevieve spent hours organizing donations and transportation logistics; nearly every decision came from her. Yet, when the meeting concluded, the guests directed their praise elsewhere—specifically toward Victoria.
"Wonderful organization," one woman remarked.
Victoria smiled modestly. "Everyone contributed."
Another guest nodded. "Still, your leadership was obvious."
Nathaniel immediately looked toward Genevieve. She said nothing—absolutely nothing. She simply continued collecting paperwork. The injustice annoyed him.
Then something unexpected happened: an elderly woman approached Genevieve privately. Nathaniel happened to be close enough to overhear.
"You know they are praising the wrong person."
Genevieve smiled politely. "It does not matter."
The woman patted her hand gently. "It should."
For a brief moment, emotion flashed across Genevieve's face: sadness, weariness, acceptance. Then it vanished. "Thank you," she said quietly.
Later that evening, Nathaniel encountered Victoria alone on the terrace. Sunset painted the sky with gold and crimson. She stood overlooking the gardens—elegant, composed, perfect.
"Alex Reed," she said as he approached. "You seem to spend a remarkable amount of time around my cousin."