The Revenge of the Forsaken Heiress

The silk of my anniversary dress felt like ice against my skin as I climbed the marble staircase, champagne flute trembling in my hand. Ten years. A decade of what I'd believed was perfect love, perfect marriage, perfect life.

The house was eerily quiet for our anniversary celebration. Julian had insisted we celebrate privately tonight, just the two of us, before the big party tomorrow. How romantic, I'd thought. How foolish.

Our bedroom door stood slightly ajar, warm golden light spilling into the hallway. I could hear voices—Julian's deep laugh, and something else. Something that made my blood freeze.

A woman's giggle. Familiar. Intimate.

"God, I can't believe she still doesn't suspect anything," the voice said, breathless with laughter. My champagne flute slipped from nerveless fingers, shattering against the marble floor.

Veronica. My best friend since childhood. My maid of honor. The woman I'd trusted with every secret, every fear, every joy.

"Five years of slow poison, and she thinks she's just getting older," Julian's voice carried clearly through the crack in the door. "The vitamins were genius, Vee. She takes them so religiously."

My legs gave out. I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until I was crouched on the floor like a broken doll. Five years. The vitamins he brought me every morning with my coffee, kissing my forehead so tenderly. The vitamins I'd thanked him for, touched by his concern for my health.

"Her liver function is almost gone," Veronica's voice was clinical now, devoid of the warmth she'd always shown me. "The doctor thinks it's genetic. Poor little Anastasia, so weak, so fragile."

"Fifty billion dollars," Julian said, and I could hear the hunger in his voice. "Once she's gone, it all comes to me as her spouse. Marcus was right—this was the perfect long game."

Marcus. My uncle. The man who'd bounced me on his knee as a child, who'd walked me down the aisle when my father's back gave out that morning.

I forced myself to peer through the crack in the door. Julian was naked, his body—the body I'd worshipped, loved, trusted—moving over Veronica's pale form. Her red hair was spread across my pillow, my Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around their writhing bodies.

"How much longer?" Veronica gasped between Julian's kisses.

"Weeks, maybe days. Her last blood work showed complete organ failure. The beauty is, it'll look completely natural. Just a tragic genetic condition that finally claimed her."

They were laughing. Actually laughing as they discussed my death like a business transaction.

I stumbled backward, my vision blurring. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before me. I had to get out. Had to run. Had to—

My legs buckled completely. The poison. Five years of it coursing through my veins, destroying me from the inside while I smiled and thanked my loving husband for taking such good care of me.

I crawled toward the staircase, my wedding ring—the symbol of our eternal love—scraping against the marble floor. Each breath was agony.