Page 163 of Her Wicked Plan

Eliza snaps another piece into place before saying, “I heard she visited.”

My eyes leave the red I’m struggling with, and I find that she isn’t even looking at me. “Was the news printed and plastered on every wall around the asylum?”

“No. People are saying you yelled at her and then ran off.”

I hum in response. Word travels fast in this place. I’m not sure why I’m surprised the others heard about it.

“Was it really that bad?” she questions.

Sighing, I pick up another red shape and attempt to place it into the other. “It wasn’t at first. Then she spewed off fake apologies, hoping to gain one from me.”

“What did you have to apologize for?” Her voice turns timid.

Staring up at her through my lashes, I cock my head to the side. “You haven’t heard?”

“Rumors.”

I’m intrigued. “What kind of rumors?”

“Well, there's the one where you killed a man randomly on the street with a metal pipe you found for looking at you the wrong way. Or there was the rumor that you purposefully caused a car accident, targeting a woman who breathed in your direction.” Her eyes search for mine for a hint of truth. “Or that you stalked someone, kidnapped them, and kept them in your basement.”

My eyes go wide. “Wow. Whoever is coming up with these is creative.”

“So they're not true?”

“No.” I let out a laugh. “The stalking part is true, but I didn’t kidnap him and hold him hostage in my basement.” She is silent, waiting for me to continue. I guess I’m about to really open up to Eliza. “I killed my sister's boyfriend.”

“Yikes,” she responds, eyes going almost as wide as mine when I heard the rumors.

“He deserved it. He was mean to her and put his hands on her. Left bruises all over her body,” I explain. “Eventually, he was going to wind up killing her, so I got to him before he could get to her.”

“You saved her,” she states.

“Yes! No one believes me.” I exhale a breath of frustration. “The court, my sister. No one believed I did it for her.”

Although killing him was out of the goodness of my heart, if my parents weren’t as wealthy as they were, I would have ended up in this place earlier than I had with killing the others.

One man was a sleaze, and good riddance. However, the surrounding people didn’t see him the way I did. They didn’t feel his hands on me when I told him no. They didn’t walk in on him taking advantage of a girl at a party I didn’t want to attend.

I lured him out of the room, away from the girl, using my fake charm.

He was dumb and drunk enough to follow me into the woods. I took charge, which he seemed to be okay with at the moment. I shoved him against a tree, and when I bent to the side, him thinking I was going to get on my knees for him; I slid my favorite knife from my boot and slit his throat.

It happened in the blink of an eye. He was too infatuated with the situation to realize what was going on, and when he finally realized, it was too late.

It was after I swiped the blade across his neck that those eyes went wide with panic. I stepped back while his hand pressed to his throat to stop the bleeding.

Nothing was going to make it stop.

I punctured the jugular.

Satisfaction rolled through my body at the sight of him gasping for air. Fighting for his pathetic life.

It was the first time I ever took a life. Before, I would only hurt someone enough to gain that fulfillment I lacked. Looking back, I knew I stopped myself because I didn’t know what that felt like—having someone's life in your hands and taking it in a matter of a second.

He wasn’t the last person I killed before I ended my future brother-in-law.

That man from the party was the only one I got caught with.