Chapter 7
Chapter 7
ROSE’S POINT OF VIEW
My phone buzzed while I was getting my nails done. Normally, I’d ignore it, Tuesday afternoons are my me–time, after all. But something made me look. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just that delicious feeling I’d had all morning, like something wonderful was about to happen.
The headline made me smear the perfect French manicure Julie had just finished on my right hand.
“LOCAL WOMAN FEARED DEAD AFTER CAR FOUND IN RIVER”
My hands shook as I clicked the link, not caring about the ruined nail polish. There it was, in clean black and white: Camille Elizabeth Lewis, age 25, presumed dead after her car was discovered in the Morton River early Tuesday morning, No body recovered. Search ongoing
“Oh my God,” I whispered, but inside, fireworks were going off. Champagne corks were popping. Every cell in my body wanted to jump up and dance.
“Everything okay, Miss Lewis?” Julie asked, concerned about my trembling hands.
I forced my face into the appropriate expression of shock and grief. “My sister… there’s been an accident. I… I need 10 go
The drive home was torture, having to keep my face properly devastated while my heart soared like a bird finally freed from its cage. I barely made it through my front door before the laughter bubbled up, wild and a little hysterical.
She’d actually done it. My pathetic, clingy little sister had finally done something right. She’d disappeared exactly like I’d arranged, right down to the car in the river. Those gays I hired through three different cutouts had followed my instructions perfectly.
I poured myself a glass of the Cristal I’d been saving for a special occasion. This definitely qualified. Taking my phone and the champagne, I curled up in my favorite window seat, the one with the perfect view of the garden Camille used to love so much
The articles were everywhere now. Local news, social media, even some regional outlets picking up the story. I scrolled through them like love letters, each one sweeter than the last. The photos they’d chosen were perfect, Camille always photographed terribly, looking washed–out and uncertain next to my carefully curated glamour. Even in death, she was my shadow.
“To you, little sister,” I whispered, raising my glass to the empty room. “Thanks for finally getting out of my way.
My phone rang, Stefan, right on cue. I took a deep breath, arranged my voice into something appropriately broken. “Baby?” I let my voice crack. “Did you… did you see?”
“Rose, I’m so sorry.” He sounded genuinely upset, the fool’I’m on my way over. You shouldn’t be alone right
Perfert. Absolutely perfect. “I just can’t believe she’s gone,I said, adding a little sob for effect. “My baby sister..” “We’ll get through this together,” he promised.
ended the call and stulled at my reflection in the window Yes, we would get through this together, just as soon as an appropriate mourning period had passed. Six months maybe. Elght at the most Than
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me for comfort, and I’d finally have everything I’d spent four years carefully arranging.
The house would need to be dark when he arrived. Grief–stricken. I went around drawing curtains, ating the perfect stage set for my performance. The grieving sister, devastated by loss, turning to her sister’s widow for support… it was almost poetic.
My phone buzzed again, Mommy this time. I let it ring twice before answering.
“Rose?” Her voice was thick with tears. “Please tell me it’s not true.”
“Mommy…” I forced a sob. “They found her car… in the river…”
“No, no, no…” The raw pain in her voice sent a thrill through me. This was what I’d wanted all these years, to be the only daughter, the only focus of their attention. No more splitting their love with my pale imitation of a sister. “The police think…” I paused for effect. “They think she might have done it on purpose. She’s been so strange lately, so distant…”
The seeds I’d planted over the past months were blooming beautifully. The subtle hints about Camille’s depression, the careful suggestions that she wasn’t coping well with life. Everyone would believe it. They’d shake their heads and say what a tragedy it was, and how they should have seen the signs.
“I should have helped her more,” Mom wailed. “Should have been there…”
“We all should have,” I soothed, while inside I was dancing “But you know Camille, she never wanted to burden anyone.”
After I got off the phone, I kicked off my heels and spun around my living room, champagne sloshing over the rim of my glass. Free! Finally, gloriously free! No more perfect little Camille with her sad eyes and quiet judgment. No more competing for attention, for love, for anything
I caught sight of a photo on the mantel, me and Camille at her wedding, her maid of honor dress carefully chosen to make her look frumpy next to my designer gown. I picked it up, studying her face. She’d never understood how the world really worked. How you had to take what you wanted, how kindness was just weakness in disguise.
“You should thank me,” I told her image. “I’ve given you the perfect exit. Everyone will remember you as the tragic, beautiful soul who couldn’t bear the world’s cruelty Better than letting them see what a failure you really
Were.”
The doorbell rang, Stefan, right on time. I set down the photo and checked my makeup in the hall mirror. The waterproof mascara was artfully smudged, my eyes red from the champagne. Perfect.
“Remember,” I whispered to my reflection, “you’re devastated. Broken. Lost without your beloved sister.”
I opened the door to find Stefan looking wrecked, his blue eyes red–rimmed. Such a sensitive soul. It was one of the things that had drawn me to him, that and his family’s money, of course.
“Oh, Stefan!” I threw myself into his arms, letting him hold me while I shook with what he would think were sobs.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “We’ll get through this together.”
Over his shoulder, I smiled. Yes, we would. Just not the way he imagined.
I let him lead me to the couchi, arrange me carefully among the cushions. He went to get me water, sweet, predictable Stefan, while I checked my phone again. #RIPCamille was trending locally. The news coverage was expanding People were sharing memories, posting old photos.
Perfect. Simply perfect.
“I just keep thinking,” I said when Stefan returned, “about all the things left unsaid. All the time we’ll never
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Chapter 7
have…”
He sat beside me, pulling me close, and I nestled into him like I belonged there. In a way, I did. Everything was falling into place exactly as I’d planned
Camille was gone, Stefan was here, and soon, so soon, I’d have everything I’d ever wanted. The fortune, the status, the perfect life, all mine, with no pale shadow of a sister to dim my spotlight.
“To new beginnings,” I whispered into Stefan’s shirt, too soft for him to hear.
Outside, it started to rain, nature’s own tribute to my triumph. I closed my eyes and smiled, letting Stefan mistake my expression for grief.
Goodbye, little sister. Thanks for finally doing something right.
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