Chapter 1 Face slapping

The champagne tasted like almonds.

That should have been my first clue. Almonds meant cyanide, or arsenic, or whatever poison Gavin had decided was the most poetic way to end ten years of marriage. But I didn't stop drinking. I downed the rest of the flute, letting the bubbles burn my throat, and stared out at the black expanse of the ocean.

"It’s a beautiful night, isn't it, Isla?"

Gavin’s voice came from behind me, smooth and rich, like the velvet lining of a coffin. I gripped the cold metal railing of the yacht. My fingers were numb. Not from the wind, but from the realization that had been creeping up my spine for the last hour.

"Why are we out here, Gavin?" I asked, my voice slurring slightly. My knees felt heavy, as if gravity had suddenly doubled. "The anniversary party is downstairs. The guests..."

"The guests are distracted," a female voice answered.

I turned. It took effort. My neck muscles suddenly felt like wet clay.

Chloe, my stepsister, stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing my diamond necklace—the one my mother had left me. It glittered against her throat, a mocking promise of the theft that was currently in progress.

"Happy anniversary, sister," Chloe smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. It was the baring of teeth.

"You signed the transfer papers this morning," Gavin said, stepping up beside Chloe. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. The sight made bile rise in my throat. "The Vane Corporation is legally mine now. Well, technically, it’s ours."

He kissed Chloe’s temple.

"You... you needed my signature," I whispered. The deck of the yacht tilted. Or maybe it was just my head spinning. "You said it was for tax purposes."

"I lied," Gavin said simply. He walked toward me. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, the perfect picture of the grieving widower he was about to become. "I’ve been lying for ten years, Isla. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pretend to love someone so... plain? You think you're all that, but you really aren't."

"I gave you everything," I choked out. "My inheritance. My connections. My life."

"And now, you’re giving us your death," Chloe said.

She moved faster than I thought possible. She lunged forward, her hands slamming into my chest.

I tried to grab the railing. I tried to scream. But the poison—or the drug—had turned my limbs to water. I stumbled back, my heels catching on the teak deck.

I went over the rail.

The air rushed past my ears, a violent whoosh of sound, followed instantly by the brutal, bone-shattering impact of the freezing ocean.

The cold was absolute. It seized my lungs, squeezing the air out in a stream of silver bubbles. I thrashed, trying to swim, but my dress was heavy, dragging me down like a lead weight.

I looked up. Through the distorting lens of the water, I could see the lights of the yacht drifting away. I could see the silhouettes of Gavin and Chloe standing at the rail, watching me sink.

They weren't calling for help. They were toasting.

My lungs burned. My vision began to tunnel, black spots dancing at the edges of my sight.

I hate you, I thought, the words screaming in my mind even as the water filled my mouth. I hate you. I hate you.

The rage was hotter than the cold water. It was a physical thing, a fire in my chest that refused to be extinguished. I didn't pray to God. I didn't ask for salvation. I prayed for vengeance.

Let me come back, I screamed silently into the void. Let me burn come back to them down. I'm not all that? I want to show them I am all that and far more than his sickly mind would ever comprehend.

The darkness swallowed me whole. The last thing I felt was the crushing pressure of the deep, and the burning, unfinished business of a woman scorned.