Page 8 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

‘Put your phone away, girl,’ she says. ‘He is not worth your tears.’

I smile back, even though she’s wrong. Charlie is absolutely worth my tears. He’s the best person in the world. And he’s my world. Was. He was my world. My soul mate. My twin flame. The man I wanted to grow old with.

The man I still want to grow old with.

And as soon as I’ve dealt with Aidan Ward, I need to get back to London to convince him to give me, us, another chance.

But for now I need to put him out of my mind. I can’t be distracted from my mission. I take a deep breath and give the assistant one of my very best smiles, one of the ones that gained me over a million followers on Insta back in my influencer days. I try on the clothes she’s picked out for me with an enthusiasm I’m faking at first but that soon becomes genuine. She’s done a great job and I leave with most of them, before popping into some other shops for a few more casual pieces and shoes.

In one little boutique I see a gorgeous pale pink silk scarf. It’s the colour of the inside of a seashell and as soft as dreams. I pick it up and hold it against my face in front of a mirror. It would look beautiful on me. Which means it would also look beautiful on Antoinette. I take it to the cashier and ask her to gift-wrap it.

I’m going to be the best sister ever.

5

Bungalow three, Chateau Marmont, Los Angeles

When I get back to the Chateau with all my bags – I might have gone a little bit mad with the shopping – Antoinette is sitting on the sofa in the living area, engrossed in something on her iPad. She looks up and smiles when she sees me and my purchases.

‘Ooh, show me everything,’ she says and I pull various dresses out while she oohs and ahhs at them. ‘Looks like you’ve had a good afternoon?’

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘there’s nothing like a bit of retail therapy. Look, I got you something.’ I hand the carefully wrapped package to her and watch as she pulls the scarf out.

‘Kitty,’ she whispers. ‘It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much.’

I can feel myself beaming.

‘You’re welcome,’ I say. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘Just bed rotting,’ she says. ‘And then sofa rotting. But I did set up a new Reddit account to find some leads on Aidan. There are a tonne of subs about LA and stuff.’

I’m impressed that she hasn’t just been rotting and has been doing something proactive to find our target. Who knows, with both of us here maybe it won’t take long to find Aidan Ward at all. Maybe I could be back in London in a week or so, winning Charlie back.

‘Oh that’s great,’ I say. ‘Did you find anything useful?’

‘Not about Aidan,’ she says and disappointment lurches in my gut. ‘But I found something else you might be interested in.’

‘What?’ I ask, sitting next to her, my curiosity piqued.

‘This.’ She slides her iPad over to me. ‘There’s a serial killer. Right here in Hollywood.’

‘Well … yeah,’ I say.

‘Not you. A different one. And he’s targeting PrivatePool creators.’

‘What’s PrivatePool?’ I ask, squinting at the screen.

‘It’s like OnlyFans,’ Antoinette says, ‘but it’s Hollywood specific. Women over here basically realised they can make much more money creating adult content than waitressing or whatever.’

‘That sounds horrible,’ I say.

‘Why?’ Antoinette asks. ‘I think it’s great that they’re taking control of their sexuality. And making money from it.’

I stare at her. ‘Are you joking? OnlyFans is like dragging feminism backwards by its hair.’

‘Kitty! Selling underwear pics to sleazy men is a lot more feminist than serving them their food and getting groped for minimum wage and tips.’

‘It’s not!’ I say. ‘It’s really not. It’s encouraging women to monetise their oppression.’