I died beneath the fireworks over Victoria Harbor.
While streamers of light burst across the sky, Otis Vance had his arms around my stepsister Carissa Henson, celebrating in his Summit Peak villa. He'd just secured the final piece of the Walker Realty puzzle.
And I had been injected with an air embolism by his private physician.
"Mrs. Vance had a severe heart condition. The sudden death was natural."
That was the story Otis gave the press.
Every newspaper in Harbor Bay mourned the passing of Mrs. Vance.
They said he was inconsolable, hadn't slept in three days, even canceled the company's annual gala.
The whole city praised Otis Vance for his devotion.
What no one knew was that my heart condition had worsened because Otis himself had been swapping out the ingredients in my daily medication.
"Carissa is carrying my child. She can't stay hidden in the shadows forever."
"You're sitting in the seat that belongs to her. She can't even go to a public hospital for her prenatal checkups."
"Marina Henson, you've always loved her more than anyone. Think of it as helping her one last time."
His voice, when he said those words, was as gentle as if he were coaxing me to swallow a piece of candy.
After I died, Otis collapsed in tears at my funeral.
The media coverage was relentless: "Billionaire Otis Vance devastated by the loss of his wife, breaks down repeatedly at the service."
His devoted-husband image earned him Walker Realty's final trust, and the billion-dollar deal closed without a hitch.
Three months later, he married Carissa Henson.
Six months after that, he climbed into the top five on Harbor Bay's wealth rankings.
Otis and Carissa lived in decadent bliss, not a care in the world.
And all I could do was watch them, eyes burning with a hatred that tasted like blood.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three years in the past.
Crystal chandeliers scattered prismatic light across the grand ballroom of The Peninsula Hotel. Otis Vance's mother, Valerie Lyons, was smiling at a roomful of guests as she made her announcement.
"Our Otis and the eldest Miss Henson will be married next month."
My father, Dudley Henson, raised his glass in agreement. My stepmother, Layla Fox, smiled with practiced grace.
And my dear sister Carissa was clinging to Otis's arm, a flicker of barely concealed triumph in her eyes.
I looked at all of it, and I laughed.
——
"Marina, what are you standing around for? Get over here and make a toast."
My father's voice carried from across the room, edged with displeasure.
I pulled my gaze away from Otis and picked up the champagne flute in front of me.
"Coming, Dad."
I walked over with a smile. As I passed Carissa, my steps faltered for just a fraction of a second.
She was wearing a pale yellow couture gown.
The same one I'd admired at the atelier last month but hadn't had the nerve to buy.
I'd thought it was too extravagant at the time. Over four thousand dollars, enough to cover a regular family's expenses for months.
But the sales associate told me afterward that Carissa had gone in the very next day and bought it on Otis's black card.
"You look so beautiful today, Marina."
Carissa beamed at me, all sweetness, that tiny beauty mark near the corner of her eye making her look impossibly delicate.
In my previous life, I'd thought her smile made her look like a harmless little rabbit.
Now I knew better. That was no rabbit. It was a viper wearing an innocent skin.
"You look lovely yourself, Carissa."
I smiled back at her.
Behind it, nothing but cold, silent contempt.
Valerie Lyons walked over with her wine glass, looked me up and down, and gave a satisfied nod.
"Marina carries herself more like a proper matriarch every day. Our Otis is a lucky man to have you."
In my previous life, those words would have left me flushed and grateful, ready to drop to my knees and thank her for the honor.
Now all I heard was the irony.
Valerie Lyons had never been a kind woman.
After Otis's father died, she was the one who held the Vance empire together while her son was still a boy. Her ruthlessness was legendary across the Financial District.
