Chapter 35
It wasn’t just the knock to the head; Ellie was pretty sure she’d never experienced a more surreal — or awkward — introduction in her entire life.
Alison Hartmann was an unmistakable woman, all steel grey eyes and icy beauty, but even without all that, Ellie was willing to bet that most Melburnians would recognise her face.
There’d been a time where the whole city — maybe even the whole of Australia — had been a bit obsessed with her.
The beautiful society wife in the midst of one of the biggest legal and criminal scandals in Melbourne’s history.
The will-she won’t-she, what-did-she-know-and-when-did-she-know-it of it all.
That notoriety was of course incredibly enhanced by Universe Below, thanks in part to people like Ellie.
Perhaps that was why she allowed the unexpected visitor to derail her urgent plans to leave, relinquishing to Harry’s fussing and Hugo’s calm hand on her shoulder, until she was pressed back to her seat on the couch.
She gripped her half-drunk cup of tea for warmth and tried —and failed — not to stare.
After a brief once-over, Alison seemed thrilled to more-or-less ignore her.
Ellie had met her share of hefty egos and Important People across her career, so it wasn’t like she was new to the feeling of being put in her place.
Still, she’d never felt anything quite like the sensation of Alison Hartmann’s perfectly pointed icy indifference.
It was like being quite suddenly invisible, while sticking out like a sore thumb.
“Earl Grey or Lady Grey?” Harry offered the new visitor, his perfectly shaped silver eyebrows raised. Apparently, he knew well enough not to offer her anything quite as frou frou as the rest of his collection. “Don’t tell me! Of course you’d pick the lady.”
Alison didn’t even blink at whatever Harry’s teasing was meant to insinuate — that Alison was the very pinnacle of ladylike with her round vowels and upright bearing, probably — and simply nodded, taking her own seat on the armchair furthest possible from Ellie. Or maybe Ellie was reading into that.
Being in Alison’s presence cowed her. Ellie was already feeling weary, not to mention hyperaware of the potential danger her presence might bring to this house full of kind people who’d taken her in.
Alison’s arrival sucked out every molecule of oxygen from the room.
It said, without Alison even needing to say a word, for what?
For what, Ellie? For a job? For a pay-check?
For a TV show? A silly, sensationalist, inspired-by-true-events crime show?
A show that hurt real people and profited from their pain?
Ellie had always been aware of what they were doing, but the sheer righteous silence from the real flesh and blood woman who’d just walked in the door filled her with abject shame for the first time since she’d signed on the dotted line.
“How are you doing, Ellie?” Prisha said.
“I’m fine—” Ellie started at the same time as Alison spoke up.
“Wonderful—” she said, in her confident patrician tone.
“Sorry,” Prisha said, looking wryly amused. “I was talking to Ali. Ali and Ellie, god, that’s going to be confusing.”
“Quite,” Alison said shortly. She still didn’t look at Ellie, thank god, since Ellie could already feel her cheeks heat up at her error when she’d been trying to go unnoticed.
“I’m doing great, thanks Prish,” Alison went on, blandly.
Ellie couldn’t entirely turn off the part of her that was fascinated at meeting Alison Hartmann, imagining the host of questions Sophie would have for her on her return to Melbourne.
Perhaps that was why she was so acutely aware of Alison’s deep discomfort right now.
This elegant older woman was almost rigid with it. And yet, here she was. Why?
There was a long period of silence in the living room, nothing but the sound of Harry banging teacups around as he created the perfect beverage for Alison.
Hugo kept meeting Ellie’s eyes, his gaze deeply assessing.
If she wasn’t so exhausted, she would squirm under such scrutiny.
Ellie wondered if it was as basic as worrying for her health, or if he’d invited Alison here as some kind of lesson about crossing professional lines: an intervention of sorts.
Prisha and Alison were having an intense conversation purely with their eyes, Alison’s mouth pressing into a tight line as Prisha raised her eyebrows to the roof.
Harry huffed to himself across the room at the kitchen bench, seeming to decide the only way to fix this problem was to put together more and better snacks.
There seemed to be undercurrents to the undercurrents in this room, all of it revolving around the fact and threat of Estella Grant and all the ways she’d made their lives collide.
Ellie felt so confused and guilty about this inescapable truth that she was starting to wish whoever had beaten her up had left her on just about anyone’s doorstep other than the one they’d chosen.
She’d made some mistakes in her life, that was now blindingly clear, but this was about the most uncomfortable reckoning she could possibly deserve.
Still, all of this squirming seemed like an utmost waste of time. Who knew what Estella was doing out there right now while they all sat uncomfortably in this beautiful room, avoiding each other’s gazes and sipping boutique tea?
“I need to go,” she reminded them all, her voice quiet but firm. “Estella could be doing anything out there.” Four sets of eyes swung her way.
“I don’t mean to state the obvious,” Harry said lightly. “But what exactly do you think you could do about that?”
Ellie flushed. “If she’s trying to avenge me, I don’t need avenging. I’ll tell her that.”
“Estella Grant,” Hugo said levelly. “The head of a criminal enterprise. Under investigation for her suspected role in a laundry list of serious crimes, including multiple murders.”
“Your point?” Ellie said, even as she knew how stupid and naive she sounded. To her surprise it was Alison who finally addressed her.
“The point is that Estella Grant can’t be stopped,” she told Ellie, her tone quite calm and certain.
She was so poised, her back perfectly straight, her long legs crossed at the knee, entirely formal even in a pair of designer jeans.
Ellie could see the lawyer in her as she spoke; she seemed unquestionable.
“You might as well run outside and request a cyclone stop uprooting all the trees. She takes what she wants, and her moral compass isn’t something you can direct. It’s who she is.”
“You seem to know her extremely well,” Ellie said pointedly.
It was unfair of her, perhaps, to needle Alison on this, but how objective could Alison Hartmann be about the woman who’d ruined her marriage.
A tiny voice popped up in her brain to remind her, add that one to the list of Estella’s crimes.
It felt different, though, looking the jilted wife in the eye. Alison just viewed her coolly.
“You’re out of your depth,” she said, like Ellie was an actual child. Ellie bristled.
“I’m sorry for what you went through, I really am. I know Estella took from you. I know Universe Below took from you—”
“That’s a conversation for another day.” Alison overrode her easily. “I have no interest in talking about that piece of excrement and what it did to my life.”
“Then why are you here?” Ellie’s head was thudding, the painkillers now well and truly worn off. “To tell me I deserved what I got?”
Alison drew in a sharp breath, and Ellie waited for the judgement to rain down like she’d all but goaded Alison to do.
“No,” Alison said instead, her voice very soft.
“No, I don’t think you deserved to get beaten by unknown assailants and left at the feet of a mob boss.
” Her slate grey eyes held Ellie in her gaze as she processed the stark words.
“I’m here because part of me wonders if you would be here, if not for my choices. ”
“What?” Ellie couldn’t follow. God, she was tired. Alison leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her fingers interlacing.
“No, it doesn’t make much sense, I know that. But if my ex-husband hadn’t… if I had been more assertive… if I had played my role better, would there have even been a story at all? If my marriage had been less of a clusterfuck, would they have had anything to make a show about in the first place?”
“You think this is somehow your fault?” Ellie rubbed her brow, a vice seeming to squeeze around the outside of her skull. “Did you take a hit to the head too?”
All the air seemed to rush back into the room as Harry snorted out a laugh and something cracked in the tension around them. Alison rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I know it’s not entirely accurate, but the feeling is there all the same.
It’s the Simon fucking Hartmann effect. He turned everything around him to rubble.
He couldn’t keep it in his pants and all these years later there’s just ripple after ripple effect until I’m sitting here looking at another bruised woman. ”
“That’s because I didn’t keep it in my pants,” Ellie blurted.
She scrunched her eyes closed, because the blow to the head really seemed to have loosened her tongue.
But honestly, this was ridiculous. “It was me. I crossed all the boundaries. I wanted to play Estella, and I wanted to get to know her. I’m the one who slept with her and got caught up in the crossfire. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
There was a long moment of ringing silence and when Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes closed a moment longer, she was faced with four different versions of appalled on all their faces.
Ugh, no one spoke and Ellie wanted to crawl back into bed and possibly never come out again.
Across the room an elaborate vintage clock was ticking.
It sounded like a drumbeat above the screaming silence.
“To be fair,” Prisha said after a long moment, chewing contemplatively on her lower lip. “Estella is incredibly hot.”
“Oh, for god’s sake, Prisha!” Alison pinched the bridge of her nose like her head too was starting to ache. “The woman is a career criminal—”
“Who saved your life,” Prisha interrupted, and Ellie’s ears pricked up. She wanted to hear this story so badly she couldn’t breathe. “Estella risked a hell of a lot to save you, Ali. It’s purely because of Estella that both you and Hope are even alive right now. So let’s not leave that part out.”
“That doesn’t mean we should be encouraging this young woman to chase after her,” Alison protested and honestly Ellie was really starting to tire of all this. Besides, she wanted to hear this version of Estella with a desperation that was alarming.
“She saved you?” she interrupted. “How?”
“That’s a story for another time,” Alison said quite infuriatingly.
“Of course, we wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if it wasn’t for the Grants, and that’s what’s important here.
I can tell you, hand on heart, that the Grants bring nothing but pain and suffering, danger and violence—”
“And people are complex,” Ellie argued. She didn’t know why she was digging in. It made no goddamn sense. After all, it was Ellie who was trying to argue she needed to stop Estella from committing even more violence.
“Estella Grant might be complex,” Alison said fiercely. “But she’s calculating and dangerous. She’ll take what she wants and she’s incapable of being safe for anyone. She’s a multiple murderer, Ellie, be for real.”
“Wow,” said a voice from the front doorway. Estella stood there, blazing blue sky lighting her up from behind, blonde hair glowing like a fallen angel, red lipped, blue-eyes, a human question mark. “Tell me what you really think, darling.”