Florence
My stepmom entered my room just a few minutes before we were supposed to leave. She gave me a scrutinizing look, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, then glanced at the two small suitcases that held all my belongings.
— Listen, don’t let me and your father down! — she said sharply. — You need to make a good impression on him. — She eyed me critically again. — I should’ve asked Justine to buy you some fancy lingerie.
— Why would I need that? — I asked, confused.
— Men love with their eyes and their hands, and they love beautiful things, — she replied, staring into my eyes. — You need to please him, make sure he’s satisfied. That’s how you’ll fulfill your family duty. Don’t forget, I took you in, even though you’re nothing to me. I could’ve convinced your father to send you away somewhere. Believe me, I had the power to do it, but I didn’t.
I felt a surge of indignation. After all, I was my father’s legitimate daughter, while Justine was born out of wedlock, back when they were just lovers. When my mom got sick and passed away, of course, my stepmom quickly married my dad, but now she twisted everything as if I were some stray puppy that could be “sent away”...
— Fine, — I replied, looking away, but in my mind, I resolved to do the exact opposite. I’d make sure Gordon rejected me. Then I could be with Oliver. I’d be so happy with him… And they could marry Justine off to Gordon for all I cared.
— I’m glad we had this little chat! — she flashed a fake smile. — I won’t keep you any longer. A taxi will take you since my driver is taking Justine to the salon, and your father is at work with his. I told Justine she’d be back in time, but I lied. I don’t want her getting upset over your departure. She’s grown attached to you, my sweet girl…
***
The taxi pulled up in front of a massive house that looked more like a castle. It seemed Gordon really did have a fortune to build himself such a fortress. I grabbed my suitcases and approached the gate. For a fleeting moment, I thought about running away, but just then, the gate swung open.
— Welcome, you’ve finally arrived. The master has been expecting you. You’re the new fiancée, right? — asked a man in his forties, dressed in a security uniform.
— Yes, that’s me. Hello, — my voice came out thin and pitiful.
— Allow me, — he said, taking my suitcases. — Let me show you in.
— Thank you, — I nodded and followed behind him.
We entered the house, passing through a spacious foyer before being led into a large living room with a fireplace, a sofa, and armchairs. Everything here felt somber, decorated in dark and crimson tones. For some reason, I couldn’t help but think of that room Justine had mentioned, hidden somewhere in this house.
The guard left, and a moment later, a tall, dark-haired man entered the room. He might have been handsome if not for the unpleasant, cold, and arrogant expression on his face. His last name suited him perfectly.
— Good afternoon, — I said, feeling an urge to sink through the floor under the piercing gaze of his dark eyes.
— Afternoon, — he replied, sizing me up with a judgmental look. — You don’t look quite like your photos. What, a fan of Photoshop?
— I’m not sure what you mean, — I stammered, caught off guard. — If someone sent you photos, it must’ve been my parents…
— Your hair looks longer, — he continued. — And darker. And your eyes aren’t quite the same. What’s your name again? Justine, right? No, definitely Justine…
Gordon
—...I’m thrilled everything worked out. No need for thanks, we’re friends, aren’t we? — I said. All this flattery no longer stuck in my throat. I’d grown used to lying, living in this web of deceit where I had to help those I wanted to destroy.
Gorham kept thanking me over and over, and I barely restrained myself from snapping at him to get lost. He’d annoyed me so much that I had to head to the shooting range to blow off some steam. Good thing I had printed photos of all twelve of my main enemies.
Gorham’s portrait replaced the target, and I felt a rush of anticipation. I put on my headphones, grabbed the pistol, and took my position. Fifty meters was nothing. Shot. Another. Eye. Eye. Bullet right between the eyes. Neck. Heart. Leg. Leg.
Normally, you’d start with the legs or the heart, but I couldn’t resist the satisfaction of shooting out the eyes of this smug thief and psycho.
A psycho who thinks I’m practically his best friend.
Yeah, they say keep your friends close and your enemies closer for a reason.
Just as I was about to reload, Fluff brushed against my leg.
— Meow! — he announced loudly.
Fluff was a stray I’d picked up off the street, but he was so massive that all my visitors assumed he was some expensive Maine Coon breed. They also thought his name wasn’t “Fluff” but something like “Thunder.” That name would’ve suited my cat better.
But damn Fluff only responded to “Fluffy,” refused to come to “Thunder,” and I jokingly said he’d be “Fluffy the Fool” instead. And that was that…
Just then, the guard called to say the girl had arrived. Early. I thought they’d bring her closer to evening. Do these young ladies really sleep in until noon?
I stashed the gun and looked at the cat:
— Around the girl, you’re “Thunder,” got it?
The cat gave me a disdainful look, meowed, and turned away.
I pressed a button, and the target rolled closer. I’d cleanly shot out the idiot’s eyes. The other shots hit their marks too. One day, I’d do this for real with all of them, and I’d celebrate my victory… But for now, I desperately needed an heir. It was the last piece of the puzzle to set the stage for my grand revenge.
***
When I walked into the room, I immediately saw the girl. She was awfully thin. Probably anorexic. That’s why she didn’t look like her photos. Well, the eyes were similar, but her hair seemed longer—had she grown it out? But her body… She was skin and bones, like she didn’t eat at all.
We exchanged a few words, and I finally said:
— Your hair looks longer. And darker. And your eyes are different somehow. What’s your name again? Justine, right? — I tried to recall. I’d had a few fiancées already, and they all had these quirky names. Some silly trend to give kids the most outlandish names possible. — No, definitely Justine…
She stared at me like a rabbit caught in a snake’s gaze.
— But my name is Florence… — she mumbled quietly, her face turning red.
— Florence who? — I frowned. — Give me your last name.
— Calloway… You can just call me Flo…
— Let me take a closer look, — I stepped forward and reached to tuck her hair behind her ear to compare her face to the photo I’d seen, but she flinched away as if I were beneath her, unworthy of touching someone like her.
— But you’re still a Calloway, — I said thoughtfully. — What are your parents’ names?
— Roman and Eugenia, — she said, lowering her head. — But my mom passed away. My dad remarried, and my stepmom’s name is Martha.
— And Justine? Who is she to you? She was supposed to be the one coming here, — I pressed. — Roman is her father.
— She’s my sister… on my dad’s side, — the girl glanced at me quickly. — So, does that mean this is some kind of mistake? You’re not going to marry me?
— Honestly, I don’t care if it’s Justine or Florence, — I replied, musing. — What matters is your last name. You’re a Calloway, so you’ll do.
I saw the flicker of hope on her face turn to disappointment.
— You choose your fiancées based on their last name? — she asked.
— Got a problem with that? — I shot back.
— With what? — Florence looked confused. That name irritated me, just like her apparent cluelessness.
— Forget it… Go to your room and unpack, — I said, my mood souring by the second. A dim-witted, stuck-up girl was definitely not what I needed. But what choice did I have? I’d have to put up with what I got… Though I could already tell she was going to get on my nerves.