I smiled.
What a load of garbage.
In my past life, Carissa and I had been kidnapped together.
While I lay in a pool of my own blood, he'd gone to Carissa first, made sure she was okay, and only then came to hold me.
He thought I'd lost consciousness. What he didn't realize was that I'd seen every last second of it.
"Good to know."
I rose onto my toes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to run to the restroom."
The instant I turned, I caught a reflection in the balcony's glass door: Carissa, standing just behind it, wineglass clenched in her hand, knuckles white.
She was listening.
And I had put on that little show on purpose.
The closeness with Otis made my stomach turn on instinct, but if it could make the two of them just as sick, it was worth it.
I let my lips curl upward and walked toward the restroom in my four-inch heels, every step sure and steady.
This time around, I was the hunter.
In front of the restroom mirror, I studied the face staring back at me.
Twenty-four. The best years of my life, still ahead.
My features weren't the kind that stopped traffic, but they were clean, striking in their own way.
A sharpness around the brows and eyes that Carissa's delicate, doe-eyed look could never match.
In my past life, I'd convinced myself I wasn't pretty enough, wasn't soft enough, wasn't likable enough, so I bent over backward for everyone, gave until there was nothing left to give.
And where did that get me?
I was the first one to die.
I fished my phone out of my clutch and scrolled to a number I hadn't dialed in a long time.
"Hello? Colin Dickerson? It's Marina."
An older voice came through, startled and warm with recognition.
"Marina? Miss Henson? What made you think of old Colin after all this time?"
Colin had been my mother's personal driver and was now the best private investigator in all of Harbor Bay.
After my mother passed, Layla had pushed him out of the Henson household. These days he ran a small detective agency to make ends meet.
"Colin, I need you to look into a few people for me."
"Name them, Miss Henson."
"First, I need everything you can find on the relationship between Otis Vance and Carissa Henson. Every detail."
"Second, I want all of the Vance Group's overseas transaction records for the past five years."
"And last..."
I paused, lowering my voice.
"Look into my father's accounts."
Silence on the other end. A few long seconds.
"Miss Henson, are you saying you want to..."
"Colin. Just tell me whether you can do it."
"I can."
His voice hardened with sudden resolve. "Your mother was the kindest person I ever knew. Now that she's gone, these old bones of mine ought to do right by her daughter."
I hung up and turned back to the mirror to touch up my lipstick.
True red.
In my past life I'd worn dusty rose, soft and harmless.
Not anymore. I wanted to be sharp, wanted to be unmistakable, wanted every last person to see that Marina Henson was no one's pushover.
By the time I stepped out of the restroom, the banquet was winding down.
Guests were drifting toward the exits in twos and threes. My father, Dudley, was flushed from drinking, laughing loudly with a cluster of old associates.
Layla Fox walked over and looped her arm through mine with practiced warmth.
"Marina, you did wonderfully tonight. Mrs. Lyons was very pleased with you."
Her perfume, some new Cartier release, was so heavy it almost made me sneeze.
In my past life, I'd thought that was how elegance smelled.
Now all I could smell was the fakeness underneath.
"Thank you, Aunt Layla."
I gave her a small smile.
"By the way, where's Carissa? I just saw her on the balcony a moment ago, and now she's vanished."
Something flickered across Layla's face, quick and uneasy.
"She wasn't feeling well. She left early."
"Not feeling well?" I arranged my expression into one of concern. "Is it serious? Maybe I should go check on her."
