Erline woke up alone. The sheets beside her were rumpled and still warm.
She sat up, rubbing her neck. It was tender.
She saw the balcony doors open. Arnulfo was standing outside, leaning against the stone railing, looking out over the estate. The morning mist clung to the grounds.
She walked out. The air was cool.
Arnulfo didn't turn around. "Come here."
She stepped up beside him, keeping a safe distance.
He pointed to a modern glass building nestled in the trees about half a mile away.
"That is the gallery," he said. "It houses the portraits of my first eight fiancées."
Erline shivered. It wasn't from the cold.
"Some were greedy," Arnulfo said, his voice distant. "Some were stupid. Some wanted my money. Some wanted my sperm to secure an alimony check."
He turned to look at her. His eyes were searching.
"What do you want? Erline? Verity? Whatever your name is."
The question hung in the air.
What did she want? She wanted to save Aunt Meredith. She wanted to be free of her father and sister. She wanted to not be afraid.
She looked at him. Her eyes filled with tears. Not fake tears. Real, exhausted, hopeless tears.
One slid down her cheek.
Arnulfo reached out. He caught the tear on the pad of his thumb.
He brought his thumb to his mouth and tasted it.
"Salty," he murmured.
He looked at her with a strange expression. "Crocodile tears have no taste. You're real."
It was a bizarre, twisted logic, but he seemed to believe it. He wiped his hand on his pants.
"Stop crying. You look ugly."
A low rumble came from the driveway below.
A black Rolls Royce swept around the fountain and came to a halt.
Arnulfo's posture changed instantly. His shoulders tensed. The arrogance vanished, replaced by a sharp, alert tension.
"Damn it," he hissed. " The Matriarch."
He grabbed Erline's wrist. His grip was hard.
"Listen to me," he said, pulling her toward the bedroom. "I don't care what game you were playing before. For the next hour, you need to be the best actress in the world."
"If my grandmother suspects you are a stand-in, or if she finds you lacking..."
He stopped. He looked genuinely worried.
"She will chew you up and spit you out. Literally."
Erline felt his fear. It was contagious. If the monster was afraid, what was coming through that door?
"Change," Arnulfo ordered, pushing her toward the closet. "Wear the navy dress. High collar. Hide the bruises."
Erline scrambled. She realized suddenly that the dynamic had shifted. They were no longer enemies. They were accomplices.
