Contract With A Monster: The Heiress's Revenge

Eve Harmon stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, but the woman looking back didn't feel like her. The silk of her dress was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat rising in her chest.

Downstairs, the bass of the party music thumped against the floorboards. It was a rhythmic, dull ache, like a headache that wouldn't break. It was her birthday. She was supposed to be smiling. Instead, her stomach felt like it was full of broken glass.

She smoothed the fabric over her hips, her fingers trembling slightly. Just breathe. Just get through the night without a scene.

Bang.

The door to her bedroom didn't just open; it exploded inward. The lock gave a sharp, metallic screech as the wood splintered.

Eve flinched, her body locking up. It was a learned response. Freeze first, assess second.

Serena stumbled into the room. She was holding a half-empty bottle of champagne by the neck, her knuckles white. Her mascara was smeared beneath her eyes, turning her into a weeping gargoyle.

"You think you're so special," Serena slurred. The words were wet and heavy. "Just because Daddy let you wear the vintage diamonds."

"Serena, please," Eve said. Her voice was steady, practiced. She didn't move. "You're drunk. Go back to your room before Father sees you."

"He doesn't see me!" Serena screamed. "He only sees you! The perfect Eve. The marketable Eve."

Serena's arm whipped forward.

The champagne bottle flew across the room. It smashed against the floor inches from Eve's feet. Green glass exploded. Shards sprayed outward like shrapnel.

Eve gasped as a sharp sting sliced across her calf. Warm blood immediately began to trickle down her leg, ruining the expensive silk.

"Oops," Serena giggled, but there was no humor in her eyes. Only a dark, swirling madness.

She reached behind her back. When her hand came forward again, it wasn't holding a drink. It was the silver letter opener from Richard's desk. The blade was dull, but the point was sharp enough to puncture.

Eve's pupils dilated. The air in the room seemed to vanish. This wasn't a tantrum. This was a hunt.

"Serena, put it down," Eve warned, stepping back. Her heel crunched on the broken glass.

"No." Serena lunged.

Eve didn't think. She grabbed the heavy ceramic lamp from her bedside table and swung it. It connected with Serena's shoulder with a sickening thud.

Serena howled, stumbling back, dropping the letter opener for a split second.

It was enough.

Eve kicked off her heels and bolted. She ignored the pain in her cut leg. She sprinted through the doorway, past her screaming sister, and into the hallway.

She couldn't go downstairs. If she ran into the party bleeding and barefoot, Richard would never forgive the embarrassment. The scandal would be worse than the injury.

She turned left, toward the guest wing. It was dark here, away from the noise.

"I'm going to kill you!" Serena shrieked from behind her. The heavy thud