I crouch down to get my phone, but she’s faster than me. She kicks it and it slides under the sideboard.
“You think you’re so fucking smart, Taylor.”
“My name’s not Taylor.”
“You’re so much better than me. Sure, call the cops. And why don’t you tell them you’re going to inherit my millions if something happens to me?” I wince. “But you already know that. You two had a plan, didn’t you? You were going to kill me and run away with my money. And you, specifically, were going to be the biggest winner of all if Olivier had gone through with it. Do you want to tell the police that, or should I?”
“You killed him,” I say. She still hasn’t denied it. Only one person died, and she’s responsible for that. It’s not a crime for me to have been in Paris. It’s not even a crime for me to have been sleeping with Olivier.
Cassie sighs. “Nothing’s going to bring him back now.”
Tears pool at the corner of my eyes and start streaming down my cheeks.
Cassie’s face softens as she speaks again. “I’ll share my money with you, fifty-fifty. We’ll do up the inn, make it all nice and pretty. I’ll handle the paperwork so it belongs to us both. Wouldn’t you like that, to have your own home, at last?”
I don’t respond.
“It’s more money than you’ll ever see in your life. And Olivier was right, this house has so much potential. If we do it well”—I cough, and she corrects herself—“I’ll help. But, fine, ifyoudo it well, and I know you will, because you do everything so fucking perfectly, it could be a huge hit. We’ll make so much more. You won’t have to work these shitty jobs anymore. You’ll be free.”
“I’ll never be free as long as I’m with you.”
She takes a deep breath, waits a moment. Then: “You were right about your dad. He’s French. Or he was at least.”
I shake my head. I’m numb. She’s a born liar. “I don’t believe a word you say.”
“Denis, his name is. Mom told me when she was dying. I think she was having regrets. Maybe she felt like she should have helped you find out more about your family. She said he might still be in Paris. That’s all I know. I swear.”
“If your mom knew about my dad, she would have told me. She was loving and kind.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “That’s what you tell yourself. If she was so kind, why didn’t she tell you your mother came by to see you after she was released from prison? She wanted to be in your life again but Mom shooed her away. She was terrified of losing you and being stuck with me. So she told your mother to leave. You could have seen her again before she died. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that’s why Mom adopted you. She felt guilty that she kept you away from your family for her own benefit.”
To say that this new information stuns me is an understatement. My mom came for me. My dad might still be out there somewhere. And yes, Cassie could be lying. She’s so desperate right now, she’d say anything. But somehow she sounds more genuine than she ever has before.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I’m trying to get you to see that we’re stuck together now. We are sisters, after all.”
She crosses her arms against her chest, daring me to contradict her. But I can’t. As much as it kills me to admit it, she’s right. I can’t prove that she killed Olivier. I could share everything I know and it might still not be enough. Cassie could spin this. She could spin anything. And what would happen to Olivier? I don’t want his memory to go down as the man who tried to kill his wife. That wouldn’t solve anything.
As for me… Well, I could lose everything, again. If I give away Cassie and the police don’t convict her, I’ll have nothing. No house, no money, no Olivier. And, like always, she’ll have won.
“Do we have an agreement?” Cassie says, staring me down. “I hope you understand that I can’t let you walk out of this room until we do. And I’m going to keep a close eye on you from now on. I can’t take the risk of you running off to the police with your crazy little theory. So what’s it going to be, Taylor? Do you want to be poor and miserable for the rest of your life, or do you want to be like me?”
A few months later
Bubbles simmer quietly on the water’s soapy surface. Underneath, her pale skin is creamy, her hair undulating like tentacles. Daylight seeps through the bathroom’s window, making the brand-new tiles shine.
It was her choice, the minimalistic style, white with a few touches ofblack. It reminded her of this beautiful hotel suite in Paris, so chic. The guests have been raving about it; it’s all over the reviews.
Recently renovated and simply beautiful. We loved staying at the Qu’inn while visiting the Hudson Valley. The two sisters who own it did a wonderful job. Definitely recommend!
After a moment, her bluish lips rise, regaining some of their originalcolor as her face breaks through. She takes in a lazy breath, as if she hadn’t just been deprived of air.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, when everyone is out, and she turned on the music loud on her phone’s speakers, something pop and upbeat. She bobs her head sideways, miming the lyrics, even though she doesn’t know them.
The last few months have been stressful, to say the least. She never imagined it would be this much work, that it would take all of her strength and energy. At last she can relax, feel at peace with herself. Her dance moves are a little too abrupt in this confined space, and suddenly she slides down, her head once again dipping below the water. Her pruned hands grip the tub’s sharp rim and she pulls, but something holds her back.
Someone.
