This is long overdue. Aiden’s been trying to reach me since the wedding, and I know it’s not because he misses me. Avoiding his question is only delaying the inevitable.
“She’s your aunt.”
“My aunt? Since when do I have an aunt?”
“You always did. Aurora is Alicia’s half-sister. She was born after an affair between your grandmother and a commoner from the North. That’s why no one likes to talk about her existence.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because neither Alicia nor Aurora wanted you to.”
“As if that explains everything. Why is she back now?”
That’s what I would like to find out, and I will. She’ll also tell me all about the shitstorm that went down after Maxim Griffin’s arrest.
‘I saw the devil today, darling. I think he’s coming after me.’
At first, I thought Alicia said that as a result of her hallucinations. She often woke up in the middle of the night and roamed the house, scribbling words everywhere. However, more recently, I’m starting to think that maybe there was something different going on. Maybe she did see the devil.
The look on Aurora’s face whenever I mention Maxim’s name is too similar to Alicia’s horrified expression to write it off as a coincidence. Not that I ever believe in those.
A knock sounds on the door. I check my watch. Ten minutes early. Impressive.
“I have company,” I tell Aiden and hang up before he says anything. After slipping the phone back in my pocket, I say, “Come in.”
But instead of being faced with the stormy blue eyes that look ready for trouble, my driver appears at my doorstep. His white-gloved hands lie inert at his sides and his bald head shines under the light.
“Sir.”
“What is it, Moses? Why are you here?”
“The lady sent me back.”
My fingers strangle the glass until I nearly break it. I was so sure she’d accept. She should have. All the facts point in that direction, yet she went straight against that possibility.
Well played, Aurora.
She’s taken me by surprise for the second time since her reappearance.
There will not be a third.
11
Aurora
The fact that I’m cornered doesn’t mean I'll bow down or drop to my knees.
It also doesn’t mean that I will needlessly provoke a much stronger opponent than me. My survival instinct has taught me to pick my battles and learn my worth.
Just because I collapsed once doesn’t mean I will allow myself to be broken again.
So tonight, I sent away Jonathan’s driver. I also didn’t give him a reason. I have no doubt his tyrant boss will not be pleased. I just hope he doesn’t take it out on him or something.
It’s not a vain provocation. It’s my way to tell Jonathan with no words that he doesn’t get to order me around.
I might be willing to do this, but it will be on my terms and my terms alone.
I step out of my flat and lock the door. The cold air from the corridor creeps into my bones, despite the beige coat that I’m wearing over my black knee-length dress. The one I reserve for funerals.
My face is makeup-free and I spent no effort in being presentable.
Screw Jonathan. I’ll never get done up for him.
Not only did that tyrant push me into a hole, but he’s also burying me alive.
Layla still insists on starting anew; however, my decision has been made. I’ll play Jonathan’s game, but unlike what he plans, I won’t be the one coming out of this in pieces.
He broke my sister beyond repair and if he thinks he can do the same to me, he has a surprise waiting.
I’m the wrong sister to come after.
Where Alicia was soft and caring, I’m hard and unfeeling.
Since I was a kid, I’ve learnt to build stone around my heart because that thing will only lead me to doom. It will only push me into a path filled with wires and vacant eyes and…duct tape.
So much fucking duct tape.
I shake my head as I take the lift down.
I promised myself not to think about that time again. I’m not Clarissa anymore.
Clarissa is buried with those vacant eyes.
“Ms Harper,” our building's concierge calls my name.
He’s a short bald man with bushy brows and a beer belly. His cockney accent is noticeable when he speaks. He also always watches the Premier League games on the hall’s TV with Shelby, the old man who resides next door to me.
When Layla and I first started out, I used to rent a room in a dangerous town in Eastern London. As soon as I could afford to, I moved into this building. The security is brilliant and most of the tenants are businessmen, lawyers, and doctors. The location is safer as well.
“Good evening, Paul. Shelby.”
The concierge nods and stands up, his attention temporarily away from the game. Shelby doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, deeply focused on the TV screen. Not that he ever returns my greetings. Since we moved in almost at the same time, I always try to be friendly, but it’s rarely reciprocated.
Paul reaches behind the counter and retrieves a packet. “This came for you.”
“Thank you, Paul.” I take the small wooden box. I wonder what it could be. It’s not large enough to be the new notebooks I ordered online.
As soon as I’m in my car, I check the box. Weird. My name and address is on there, but the sender’s isn’t.
I shake it and hear a faint sound coming from inside. When I open it, I find a flash drive.
That’s all.
A flash drive.
Along with a note printed in a computer-generated font.
PLAY ME.
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I plug it into my car and hit Play.
At first, there’s no sound and I’m about to chalk this up to a prank or something. Then I hear someone breathing and I freeze as a soft voice follows.
Alicia.
Oh my God.
It’s Alicia!
“Hey, Claire. If you get this, it means I’m no longer with you. I debated about whether to leave you this, but I decided that I need to warn you. I need to protect you like I wasn’t able to when I was alive. Claire, baby sis, someone is trying to kill me and I probably will die. I —"
The recording is cut off.
I hit Play and Forward, but it cuts off at the same point every time. I press the player again and again, my fingers shaking.
Damn it. A whole body shudder grips me, and tingles erupt all over my skin at the words I heard straight out of my sister’s mouth.
Someone was trying to kill Alicia.
I knew it. I knew that her death was suspicious.
Now, I have to bring my sister justice.
Just like I did with those vacant eyes.
The moment I’m in front of the King mansion, the metal gate automatically opens like in some horror film.
I drive inside, watching my surroundings as if something or someone will jump me.
The silence of the night is deafening as I slowly go down the road that’s faintly lit by tall street lamps.
A fountain sits in the middle of the garden with imposing grandiose. There’s a statue of an angel pouring water from a jar as the virgin Mary holds him at a tilted angle.
I hit the brakes, staring with wild eyes of the statues. Both the woman and the angel are crying, their expressions wrenched.