5
Firelight casts dancing shadows across Regina’s face, shrouding her beauty in dark truth. With a click of a button she smiles when yet again The Fairest app notifies her that she is indeed the most beautiful in the city.
Of course she is. Neve is dead.
She smiles wickedly to herself, satisfied in her decision to end Neve’s life. She glances around her dead husband’s office and sighs in satisfaction as she gazes upon the gold box above the mantel that was delivered to her the day after Neve’s death.
The one that contains her stepdaughter’s heart.
Placing her phone on the desk, she makes a move to stand, then pauses when the room echoes with yet another notification.
She reaches for the phone only to find herself face to face with the ugly truth. Or, more accurately, the beautiful truth.
Neve has usurped her as the most beautiful.
“That’s not possible,” she grates through her teeth, her eyes angrily threatening to bulge out of her reddening face.
Oh, but it is possible. Because the photo of Neve is not one prior to her death, but dated this morning. A candid taken by an anonymous passerby, of Neve sitting amongst a field of flowers.
Neve Blanca lives! The caption reads.
Rage floods through Regina as she stalks about the room. The Hunter has failed her.
Ripping the box from its place on the mantel she tosses it into the raging fire. Sparks erupt, flitting over her feet, but the only burn Regina feels is the burn of jealousy and anger filling her own black heart.
It’s then, while glaring unblinking into the fire, with flames reflecting in her eyes, that Regina forms her next plan.
And this time, she promises herself, she will not fail.
6
Neve
Chase is making the final arrangements for what is going to be a surprise of epic proportions. Not for me of course, but for Regina.
These past two weeks in Chase’s house have delivered on every dark dream and desire I’d never imagined could be possible. He’s my reality now. My life.
And soon, both the world and Regina will know it.
The air outside is as welcoming as the thought of what’s to come. My entire body is buzzing with both the delight of finding Chase and the glow feeling alive for the first time ever. I’m strolling along the property line of New Amsterdam, venturing beyond the large hedge where I usually stop, when I suddenly find myself a little lost. The hedges are taller and more maze-like this far from the house. I shudder as a wave of fear skims across my skin like sandpaper.
I’m safe here, I remind myself, glancing up at one of the seven security cameras surrounding the property, keeping an eye on me at all times.
Chase is always watching me.
I smile at the thought and realize that I haven’t strayed as far as I thought since the camera is still in view. I turn to head back and almost topple over a small woman carrying a large insulated tote bag.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, calming my rapid breathing with a hand over my heart. I pick up the bag and hand it back to her.
“No worries,” the old woman says with a gap-toothed smile. “No need to apologize. I’m the one in your way, miss. I’ve walked this path thousands of times in my life, but as I get older I find myself more often a little turned around. Where am I?”
“I may not be your age, but I do know the feeling.” I smile and feel pity for the old woman. “You are on the Huntington Estate. New Amsterdam.”
“Ah yes, I know where I am now,” she says, spinning in a circle. “Could you tell me which way is out?”
I point to the path where she just came. “That should take you where you need to go.”
“Thank you,” she offers. She opens her tote bag. “I was on my way to the farmers market to sell my freshly pressed juice. Here,” she hands me a small mason jar.
“No. I couldn’t.” I say, shaking my head at her kindness.
She presses it into my hand and wraps the other around it. “Nonsense, child. For helping out an old lady.”
Not wanting to offend her, I nod and take the gift. She smiles and releases me. “Freshly made just this morning,” she says, and I realize that she’s waiting for me to try it.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” I say, unscrewing the lid and lifting the jar to my lips. “Wait,” I hesitate. “Does this have apples in it? I’m deathly allergic.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Mango and pineapple. Had them shipped in from my sister’s place down in Key West. It’s my special recipe.”
“Neve!” A voice calls from the distance.
Chase.
“I should go,” I say, looking over my shoulder toward the direction of Chase’s voice.
“Shame. I was hoping you could give an old lady a compliment on all my hard work,” she says, looking down at her orthopedic shoes.
“Neve!” Chase calls again, sounding frantic. Needing to get to him to see what’s wrong, I take a healthy gulp from the jar.
“And?” She asks, leaning in closer.
The juice is sweet, but it’s also got a familiar bite to it. “It’s good, just a little more…bitter than I thought it would be.”
My head swims, and suddenly the trees around me are spinning. I can’t breathe. I clutch my throat. It’s closing up. I gasp and gasp, but my windpipe feels as if it’s being crushed from the inside.
“That would be the apples, my dear. They can taste pretty bitter this late in the season.” She turns around and glances at me over her shoulder to where I’ve dropped to my knees as my lungs fight for air. “Sorry, kid. The payment was too much to turn down. Especially for an old woman like me on a fixed income. No worries, though. It should only hurt for a minute, then it’ll be all over.”
Her high-pitched cackle surrounds me as I fall to the ground with a hard thud. The last thing I see is my stepmother’s watch gleaming from the old woman’s wrist.
The payment for my death.
7
Chase
Stalking has its advantages, and yesterday when I found Neve clutching a mason jar that smelled of apple juice, I’m glad that all of my stalking had revealed to me her apple allergy.
I carried her back to the house and injected her with an EpiPen I purchased the moment I knew Neve was here to stay.
I waited for what seemed like years, but in reality was probably only seconds, for her to gasp for breath, and only a few seconds more than that for the color in her face to turn from a ghostly blue back to her normal pretty pale white.
The thought of almost losing her makes me sick to my stomach. The memory of the fear and rage in my gut is enough to make me want to burn down Regina’s house with her inside, but this revenge is not just my own. Therefore, it needs to be handled with a little more finesse in order to result in a lot more satisfaction.
Regina arrives precisely on time and alone. My butler, Jimmy, escorts her into the dining room, which is set up for an elaborate feast. The place is dripping with candles as if I’m expecting royalty and not Neve’s evil stepmother.
Regina flashes her brilliant smile when she spots me, instantly appraising my choice of tuxedo. Approval and lust flash in her eyes as she extends her arms out to embrace me long before she collides into my chest.