The moment we stepped inside, I walked straight to the bar. The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of the chandelier reflecting off the polished marble floors. The air between us was thick, charged, but I was in no mood to entertain whatever conversation Liam thought we needed to have.
I reached for the bottle of Château Margaux, the deep red liquid swirling as I poured it into a glass. Behind me, I heard the soft rustling of fabric—Liam loosening his tie, shrugging off his jacket. He tossed them aside carelessly before stepping forward, picking up a glass, and extending it toward me.
I arched a brow, my grip steady as I filled his glass halfway. He brought it to his lips, watching me over the rim as he took a slow sip. I ignored him.
"I didn't like what happened tonight." His voice was smooth, controlled, but there was a weight behind it.
I leaned against the counter, swirling the wine in my glass, pretending to consider his words. "Then maybe you shouldn't have watched so closely."
His jaw ticked. "That's not what I meant."
"Then say what you mean."
Liam exhaled through his nose, taking a slow step toward me. "I don't like the way he looked at you."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Which 'he' are we talking about? Because there were quite a few."
His eyes darkened. "You know damn well who."
I tilted my head, my expression unreadable. "And what exactly do you want me to do about that? Blindfold every man in the room?"
Liam clenched his jaw, gripping the glass tighter. "I'm talking about Kane."
I walked away, my heels clicking against the floor before I reached the couch and slipped them off. The relief was instant, but the conversation was grating. "Then talk about him, Liam. What's the problem?"
"You were entertaining him."
I took a slow sip of my wine, letting the silence stretch. "Is that what you think?"
"I don't think, Valeria. I know."
I smiled, amused. "And what exactly do you think you know?"
"That he's interested in you."
I tilted my head back against the couch, watching him from beneath my lashes. "That must be difficult for you."
His phone buzzed against the counter.
He ignored it.
Then another vibration. And another. This time, he glanced at the screen, his face barely shifting, but I caught the faint tension in his grip.
A message popped up.
I tilted my head, my tone light, amused. "Something urgent?"
"Business."
I laughed. Quiet, effortless. "Business?"
He rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his wine in one swift motion before setting the glass aside.
I leaned back into the couch, tapping a finger against the rim of my own. "I didn't realize business required that many missed calls."
He shot me a look, but I just smiled, innocent and unreadable.
With a quiet sigh, he pushed off the counter, walking back to where he'd tossed his jacket. He shrugged it back on, adjusting the sleeves with practiced ease before snatching his keys from the table.
"We're not done with this conversation."
I met his gaze, lifting my glass in mock toast. "oh but I'm."
His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression made him hesitate. A flicker of realization. Or maybe just the unfamiliarity of dealing with this version of me.
I watched as he turned, stepping toward the door, his silence heavier than the conversation itself. He lingered for a fraction of a second before pulling it open, disappearing into the night.
The lock clicked shut behind him.
I took another sip, savoring the taste of victory on my tongue.
As soon as I heard the distant hum of Liam's car fade into the night, I let out a slow breath and reached for my phone. The screen illuminated my face in the dimly lit room as I scrolled through my recent calls. My fingers tapped against the glass, and the line rang twice before a voice answered.
"Do you have them?" I asked, my voice steady, unfazed.
A pause. Then, "Yes. Just came in. Do you want me to send them now?"
"Immediately."
I set my empty glass down, the faint clink against the marble counter the only sound in the vast silence of the penthouse. Taking the wine bottle, I refilled my glass to the brim, the deep crimson liquid swirling as I walked toward the stairs, my heels dangling from my fingers.
The phone buzzed in my other hand, a notification lighting up my screen. I swiped it open, my steps unfaltering as I reached my bedroom. Sliding the door shut behind me, I padded across the plush carpet and placed my wine on the nightstand before grabbing my laptop.
The soft chime of an incoming file transfer echoed through the room. Settling onto the bed, I propped the laptop on my thighs, the screen illuminating my face as I clicked on the folder.
One by one, the images loaded. I traced the rim of my glass with one finger, my lips curling in amusement.
Business trip, huh?
I took another slow sip of wine, letting the images burn themselves into my mind.
Then, without a second thought, I set the glass down and rose to my feet. My body ached—not from exhaustion, but from restraint. From holding back the fire simmering beneath my skin. The shower was calling.
I took another slow sip of wine, letting the images burn themselves into my mind.
Then, without another glance at the screen, I shut the laptop and stood. The air in the room was cool against my skin as I walked toward the bathroom, my body humming with a restless energy I couldn't quite shake.
The steam curled around me as I stepped into the shower, tilting my head back as the water poured over me, washing away the night, the tension, the weight of Liam's voice still lingering in my ears. I closed my eyes, inhaling the soft scent of jasmine and vanilla as I ran my hands over my body, my skin slick with warmth and the faintest trace of exhaustion.
But my mind didn't rest.
It never did.
When I stepped out, I moved with unhurried ease, wrapping myself in a silk robe, the fabric cool against my freshly damp skin. I padded back into the bedroom, sinking onto the velvet stool in front of my vanity.
A single flick of my wrist, and my reflection stared back at me—sharp eyes, high cheekbones, lips still painted a deep, rich red.
I reached for a bottle of cream, smoothing it over my legs, my arms, slow, deliberate. Expensive things deserved to be taken care of. And I was nothing if not expensive.
The faintest hum echoed in my head, the ghost of a memory stirring beneath the quiet.
A woman's voice, soft, lilting.
I could almost feel the gentle pull of a brush through my hair, the scent of lavender lingering in the air.
You're so bright, my love. The world will adore you. One day, you'll marry a prince, a charming man who will love you as fiercely as the sun loves the sky.
A soft smile touched my lips, but it didn't last.
Because I did marry a prince.
And he burned me alive.
The warmth in my chest turned hollow, and I exhaled slowly, pushing the memory aside as I stood, walking to my bed. The silk sheets felt cool as I slipped beneath them, my limbs sinking into the familiar comfort.
Tomorrow.
The word hung in the air, a silent promise of actions yet to unfold. Liam's dramatic exit last night barely registered. Honestly, the relief was palpable, the only thing his absence accomplished was leaving the entire king-sized bed to me. I stretched languidly, the silk sheets cool against my skin – a far more comforting sensation than his forced apologies ever were.
The thought of facing the day, however, felt… tedious. Until I remembered the images on my laptop. A slow, predatory smile stretched across my lips. Today wouldn't be tedious at all.
By mid-day, I found myself on Avenue Montaigne, the hushed reverence of the high-end boutiques a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. Liam's indiscretions – blatant, careless – deserved to be met with equal ruthlessness. But first… a little retail therapy never hurt anyone.
Especially when his platinum card was burning a hole in my designer wallet.
I drifted through Chanel, the scent of leather and expensive perfume a familiar comfort. A classic black flap bag caught my eye, and without a second thought, I instructed the impeccably dressed sales associate to ring it up. Then it was on to Dior, where a flash of crimson caught my eye – a dangerously elegant dress. Into the bag. A pair of stilettos so sharp they could double as weapons? Absolutely. And a few other… essentials. Indulging felt good, a small act of rebellion against the years I'd spent playing the docile wife.
As a ridiculously oversized shopping bag was being placed in the trunk of the Aston Martin, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. My fingers froze for a split second. Unknown numbers had a history with me. The last one had led me to the cold, hard truth in that godforsaken penthouse. A shiver traced its way down my spine, a ghost of the fear I'd felt then. But that Valeria was dead. I shook it off, a dismissive flick of my wrist. Curiosity, that persistent little bitch, won. I unlocked the screen.
"The city looks beautiful from up here. Almost as captivating as you did last night. A shame our conversation was cut short. Perhaps we can continue it on our own terms, Mrs. Devereaux? Intrigued to know what truly lies beneath that formidable exterior.
Your SA."
slow smile spread across my face, a genuine, unguarded curve of amusement and… something else. Curiosity? Intrigue? This was unexpected. "SA"? Bold. Arrogant. Exactly the kind of playful challenge that piqued my interest. My mind flickered through the men I'd encountered recently, dismissing most of them with a flick of my mental wrist. It definitely wasn't Liam – he lacked that particular brand of confident charm. But one face lingered – sharp, intelligent eyes, a smirk that hinted at hidden depths. I was curious. Very curious.
Shoving my phone back into my purse, the smile lingered. A diversion, he called it. Well, Mr. Secret Admirer, little did he know, I had a few diversions of my own planned. And one of them involved a certain "best friend" and a set of rather compromising photographs.
Isla's townhouse was tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined street. I pulled up, the sleek black Aston Martin looking slightly out of place amidst the more understated vehicles. A small, satisfied smirk touched my lips. Let them stare.
I walked up the short path and knocked on the door, a practiced, friendly tap. It took a moment, and then the door swung open, revealing Isla. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she plastered on a bright smile.
"Valeria! What a surprise!" She stepped back, gesturing for me to come in. We exchanged a brief hug, her embrace feeling… slightly off. Not unfriendly, exactly, but not quite the usual enthusiastic squeeze.
"Just thought I'd pop by," I said casually, stepping into the familiar, artfully cluttered living room. "Had a free afternoon." Liar. Every moment of my day was meticulously planned.
"Well, this is lovely!" Isla exclaimed, a touch too enthusiastically. "Come in, sit down. I was just about to make some tea."
"Tea sounds perfect," I replied, settling onto the plush sofa. I scanned the room, taking in the details. A new painting on the wall? Different throw pillows? And… her hair. Isla's signature raven black hair was noticeably lighter, a rich brunette. It suited her, actually, but it was a significant change.
"Your hair!" I exclaimed, making sure my tone was genuinely complimentary. "It looks gorgeous, when did you get it done?"
She touched a hand to her hair, a small, almost hesitant smile gracing her lips. "Oh, thanks! Just a few days ago. I felt like a change."
"It really suits you," I repeated, holding her gaze for a fraction longer than necessary. Something felt… different. Subtle. Almost imperceptible. A slight shift in her posture, a fleeting hesitation in her eyes. But I take it as a surprise to my unexpected visit. I have a "gift" to deliver after all. I was eager to see her reaction.
We chatted for a while, the conversation light and easy, the kind of comfortable banter that years of friendship breeds. We talked about work (hers, mostly – I kept my recent boardroom takeover to myself), a mutual friend's disastrous dating life, and a funny article Isla had read that morning. I even complimented her new throw pillows, making sure to sound genuinely interested. All the while, the envelope containing the photos felt like a weight in my handbag.
Eventually, as Isla poured us both cups of tea and brought out a plate of her famous (and sinfully delicious) cookies, I decided it was time...
"Actually," I said, reaching for my handbag, "I brought you something." I pulled out the sealed envelope, a bright, cheerful "Happy Birthday" sticker adorning the front. Isla's birthday was next week, and this was my carefully orchestrated pre-celebration.
Her eyes lit up. "Oh, Val, you shouldn't have!"
"Nonsense," I said, handing her the envelope with a wide, warm smile. "Consider it an early birthday treat." My heart pounded a little, anticipation and a sliver of something darker swirling within me. I watched, my smile fixed, waiting for her to tear it open.
Her fingers reached for the seal, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes met. Then, just as she was about to break the seal, her phone rang, a cheerful melody cutting through the comfortable silence.
Isla's hand froze. She glanced at the screen, a look of mild annoyance crossing her face. "Oh, hold on a sec," she said, her voice apologetic. "I've been expecting this call."
She stood up, still holding the unopened envelope in her hand. "Would you mind if I take this in this upstairs? It might be a bit… private."
"Of course," I said, my smile unwavering, though a tiny seed of impatience began to sprout within me. "Take your time."
Isla nodded, clutching the envelope, and disappeared down the hallway towards the bedroom. I watched her go, then leaned back against the sofa, taking a sip from my tea. The anticipation was almost unbearable. Any minute now, I expected to hear a gasp, a cry, maybe even a door slamming.
But the minutes ticked by and the only sound was the gentle hum of the air conditioning. My phone vibrated in my purse – a reminder of the important business deal I had to finalize downtown. Time was ticking.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes, I glanced at my watch. I really needed to leave. Isla was taking an awfully long time. Perhaps the call would take a longer time.
With a sigh, I stood up, grabbing my handbag. Wow, I will really miss the expression on her face on seeing the content of the envelope. I'd expected a dramatic confrontation not a prolonged phone call.
I walked to the hallway, pausing outside the closed bedroom door. I could hear the faint murmur of Isla's voice but couldn't make out any words.
"Isla?" I called softly. "I'm so sorry but I have to run I have a meeting downtown. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
There was a brief pause, then Isla's muffled voice replied, "Okay, Val! Sorry! I'll call you later!"
"No worries!" I called back, forcing a bright tone. "Happy early birthday!"
I didn't wait for a response. I simply walked to the front door let myself out and headed back to the car. honestly, I was cut up between my very important business meeting and isla's react. Business was more important Liam's idiocy and Isla's impending shock could wait.
The rest of the day passed in a jiffy amist negotiations and power plays. By the time I returned to the penthouse the city lights twinkled like fallen stars. Still no word from Isla. Later that evening, the penthouse felt cavernous and quiet. Liam still hadn't graced me with his presence but I couldn't have care less if he'd decided to take up permanent residence on whatever silk sheets he'd been defiling. I poured myself a generous glass of wine and settled onto the sofa, phone in hand. Still no message from Isla. Not even a "thanks for the early birthday gift." It was strange, even for her usually laid-back attitude.
The next day crawled by with the usual demands of Devereaux Empire. Board meetings, endless paperwork, the constant hum of ambition and greed that permeated every corner of the building. All day, I kept checking my phone nothing. It was starting to get under my skin. Had she not opened the envelope? Had she somehow missed the… rather obvious content?
By late afternoon, my patience had officially worn thin. I dialed Isla's number, forcing a casual tone as she answered on the third ring her voice bright and cheerful, as if nothing was amiss.
"Valeria! Hey! What's up?"
"Hey," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. "Just checking in. How are you?"
"I'm great! Just swamped at work, you know how it is."
Swamped at work? Hadn't she found a moment to open the "early birthday gift" I'd so thoughtfully brought over? "Oh, that reminds me," I said, injecting a playful tone into my voice. "Did you… um… like the little something I dropped off the other day?" I kept it vague, wanting to gauge her reaction.
There was a beat of silence on the other end. "The other day? You mean… when?" Her voice held a hint of confusion.
"Yeah, when I popped by," I prompted, a sliver of annoyance starting to prickle beneath my carefully constructed nonchalance. "Yesterday afternoon?" I emphasized the "yesterday," drawing it out slightly, waiting for the penny to drop.
"Ohhh!" Isla exclaimed, followed by a light, airy laugh. "Oh my god, Valeria, you won't believe this!"
My eyebrows furrowed. What wouldn't I believe?
"You must have meet Mila." she said, still chuckling. "Valeria Valeria Valeria…I can't believe you still can't make the difference out of us" with a burstirous laugh.
Mila. Her twin sister. I blinked, a wave of disorientation washing over me. an identical twin who lived abroad. How could I have Mistakened that. The last time I'd seen her was at my wedding.
"Mila's here?" I asked, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.
"Yeah, she flew in two days ago! It was a total surprise when I got home from work. She was supposed to stay longer, you know, for our birthday next week. But she had some urgent client thing come up and had to leave this morning." Isla's voice was casual, chatty, like she was recounting a funny anecdote.
"Oh, she didn't even mention you came by! Can you believe it? Mila is so spacey sometimes."
My mind raced, trying to place things together. Brunette hair a slightly different vibe. The almost imperceptible air.
Why did she pretend to be Isla?!
"So… Mila was the one who… got the 'gift' then?" I asked, the word feeling heavy.
"Gift?" Isla repeated, a hint of confusion back in her voice. "What gift? Mila didn't mention anything about a gift."
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken questions and dawning realization. Isla's casual tone, her genuine surprise… it felt real, too real to be an act.
"So," I said slowly, the pieces clicking into place with a sickening finality, "Mila didn't give you any… envelope?"
"Nope! Not a thing," Isla confirmed cheerfully. "Why? What was it?"
I swallowed, the carefully constructed scenario in my head shattering into a million pieces. "Oh," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "just an early birthday thing. No big deal."
"Well, now I'm curious!" Isla exclaimed. "You'll have to tell me all about it when we actually celebrate. So, what have you been up to? Anything exciting?"
I forced a smile that she couldn't see. "Nothing much," I lied smoothly. "Just the usual."
This was bad.