She picks up a white bishop and moves it to an open space. “You were never good at lying to me.”
My eyes fall to the board and I counter with a black knight in silent contemplation.
She’s right, of course. She’s always been right.
Ludmilla saw through me the first week she started working here, when I tried to convince her I didn’t need a housekeeper.
She saw through me when I claimed I was fine six years ago after late nights that ended with bloodied knuckles and a hollowed-out chest.
She’s seen through every lie I’ve ever tried to tell, and she’s not about to stop now.
A white pawn inches forward. “She asked me about Gia.”
Of all things Ludmilla could’ve said, this was the one I least expected.
Who the fuck could’ve told her about Gia? It couldn’t have been Luca. That piece of shit was too proud of what he’d done to gloat about her to his precious little sister. And if he had, she wouldn’t have such devotion to his memory.
The black bishop advances. “And what did she ask?”
“If you raped and murdered her.” Ludmilla’s voice cracks slightly.
“And what did you say?” My voice trembles slightly.
“I told her the truth.” She looks at me, and then adds. “Not the whole truth. But enough to absolve you of the crimes she thinks you committed.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “That truth wasn’t yours to tell.”
“No,” Ludmilla agrees. “But someone had to tell it. Someone had to make her see the man beneath the monster. Check.”
Already? I look at the board, and sure enough, my king is exposed to Ludmilla’s rook. And the only way to save him is to sacrifice my queen.
I move my king, and the white rook immediately darts across the board to snatch away my queen.
This is one of the worst games of chess I’ve ever played.
Nico, I think.That must’ve been what Nico said to Bella at the fundraiser gala.But if he told her that, then why didn’t Bella ask me at the gala? Or here?
The answer comes immediately. It’s because she doesn’t trust me.
She already sees me as a monster. Why wouldn’t she be so inclined to believe Nico? Why wouldn’t she believe that I’m a rapist as well as a murderer?
The thought of her trusting Nico feels worse than a knife twisting between my ribs. Jealousy wraps its iron fist around my throat and squeezes until I can’t think straight anymore.
I make another mistake in my game, and Ludmilla punishes me by sweeping my knight from the board.
The jealousy burns hotter, sharper, until it’s all I can feel. Next comes the irrational, consuming rage at the idea of Bella believing anything that comes out of Nico D’Ambrosio’s lying mouth.
But why the fuck do I care who she believes? I’m not doing this to make her believe the truth.
“Check,” Ludmilla says again.
This time, I lose my bishop. I’m near the point of no return, where the game is all but over.
But with a grim determination, I play on, until I’m reduced to just a handful of pawns and a single useless knight.
“You think you made a mistake once,” she says quietly. “And you think you’re making that mistake again with Bella.”
“What are you implying?”
