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Eugenia
One week had turned into two. The Richmond family fortune wasn’t infinite. I knew I was going to have to start living more practically soon. That, or sink my claws into another rich older man.
But not yet.
“Would you like another drink, Mrs. Richmond?” the tuxedoed waiter asked me.
“Thank you, but no,” I said, sweeping my gloved hand away so he could take my empty glass. “I think I’m done for the night. But I might sit here for a few more minutes if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. I’ll be back if you change your mind about that drink.”
I leaned back in my seat and took a moment to appreciate the view and everything that had gone to plan that allowed me to enjoy it. Of course, there was plenty that hadn’t gone to plan. But I’d only need to wear the gloves for another few weeks—until the burns on my hands healed enough to pass for old scars. Entranced by the drama, the beauty of it all, I’d overstayed my welcome in the burning house. But it’d been worth it.
As expected, it took precious days for the fire department to determine it was Anna and not me who died in that glorious fire. My retribution. The moment I’d been waiting years for. By then, I’d already drained the trust account for good and left the country using Anna’s passport.
I’d had a story prepared. I always do. I’d left the house with my daughter’s passport and boarding pass instead of my own—silly me! But the airport had been a zoo. The TSA agent had barely looked at my identification before waving me through security. Just another grandmother going on a holiday.
They might eventually catch on that I’d left the country posing as Anna. They’d find that I’d flown to Italy—the heart of southern Europe. From there, I could have traveled anywhere. But I doubted they’d look. And if they did, I doubted they’d look for me in the same country I’d originally escaped to. Because who does that? I did. And now here I was, enjoying the good life on Capri.
When I was a little girl, I had dreams, of course. Every little girl has dreams. Modest dreams. Dreams of home and family. It was never my aspiration to live the life of the rich and famous, but when home and family are taken away from you, you must improvise.
And they had most definitely been taken away from me. Twice.
I thought I could get them back, thought I could be a normal person with a loving husband if I did everything he wanted. Since I’d left home at fourteen years old, I’d trusted Sterling Richmond, trusted that one day we’d be married. Trusted that one day Richmond House would be mine. And in return, I’d had to make sacrifices—sacrifices I’d made willingly. I’d sacrificed myself. Sacrificed my daughter to Sterling’s proclivities. It’s difficult to believe, but Linus wasn’t even my first murder. No, my first murder was at Sterling’s behest. His wife had become…unbearable to live with, he’d said. So, I’d all-too-happily poisoned her food, secure in the knowledge that everything would soon be mine.
Unfortunately, “soon” didn’t mean much to Sterling Richmond. Years passed. In the end, I’d had to take things into my own hands. He’d become erratic, going through money like water, buying ugly, used boats with no chance of resale but refusing to keep up the house.
That wasn’t why I’d had to eliminate him, though. After all, I still held the purse strings. I’d always done what I wanted with Sterling’s money, and he never seemed to notice. Or he didn’t care. Maybe he figured it was a way to keep me off his back about our “engagement.”
No, in the end, it was his proclivities that sealed his fate. He’d been receiving more and more packages in the mail in recent months, stuffed with photos and videos I’d rather not be associated with. It was one thing if he was in love—first with me, then Blair, then Anna. We were family. It only made us closer. But now that the girls were grown, he’d been branching out. Arranging for imagery and planning meetups outside the safety of the house.
He’d always been careful in the past, but it’d become evident that if I didn’t do something, Sterling would eventually be arrested on charges of child pornography—or worse. Only the lack of Internet access at Richmond House had saved him so far, but he’d become careless. He would have died anyway—I’d just sped up the process. On the day he died, I’d forged the documents necessary to take control of Sterling’s money. But there was nothing I could do about the house. Anna had wanted to publicly name Sterling her father so that she could inherit—but I couldn’t allow it. The Richmond name was still protected, and I wouldn’t let one hint of scandal bring it to its knees. Not after all this time. No, there was nothing to be done for Richmond House. We needed to start over. There was just one loose end I needed to tie up.
I’d called our darling Greer myself but lost my nerve and hung up. I loved Greer like a granddaughter. Truly I did. It was a difficult decision, but she’d had to go, too, in the end. Imagine my surprise when she informed me she’d be coming to stay just days after my thwarted call. I’d initially been wary when I’d learned it was Oren who’d sent for her, but it would have been fine. Would have been fine if Linus hadn’t discovered the lights were working and blown out all the candelabras before I had to burn Richmond House to the ground the firstnight Greer slept in Anna’s room.
Would have been fine if Linus had killed her on their little date to the fish shop like I’d asked him to. Would have been fine if she hadn’t hooked back up with Jace Blackwell like the whore that she was and attracted the sympathy of that policeman hell-bent on prying into our family secrets.
It might even have been fine if she’d died in the cemetery. But she hadn’t. And in the end, when we’d been so close to having everything we’d ever dreamed of—at least riches the likes of which were hard to come by—Anna had turned weak. She had weakness in her blood, not strength. She was making the same mistakes I did, right before my eyes, drawn to a house she could never be mistress of and a man who didn’t love her. In the end, she’d tried to go back in and save him. And I’d put a stop to that. I’d put her out of her misery, knocking her out and placing her in Sterling’s secret space under the floorboards where I hoped she’d remain undiscovered for a time. Time. That’s what I’d needed. Especially since Sterling’s letters to me were nowhere to be found. Greer had taken them—how, I’d never know. Now I could only hope all my efforts hadn’t been in vain, that the letters had burned along with every other part of my past life.
When I’d committed to the plan, I knew that everything had to go. Wouldn’t it look suspicious if I’d carried out the paintings Sterling had done of me? Or maybe if all my beautiful clothes had somehow escaped the fire?
It was sad but had been necessary. Most everything could be purchased again with Sterling’s money, especially now that I was the only one using it. This wasn’t the life I was promised, but I worked hard every day to convince myself it was even better. I didn’t have Sterling or Anna. I answered to no one. For the first time since I was fourteen years old, my life was my own again. So why did I still feel so drawn to the place my nightmare began? I wasn’t going to go back. Not now. But maybe someday.
“Excuse me.” An older gentleman with a handsome face stood to the side of the high top where I’d been perched for the past hour. “I noticed you from across the bar.”
“Did you?” My hand fluttered to my throat. I was no longer a young woman, but I kept myself up.
“Are you here alone? May I join you?”
“Please do. I’m as alone as I’ll ever be.”
