The Revenge of the Forsaken Heiress

The silk of my anniversary dress felt like ice against my skin as I climbed the marble staircase, champagne flute trembling in my hand. Ten years. A decade of what I'd believed was perfect love, perfect marriage, perfect life.

The house was eerily quiet for our anniversary celebration. Julian had insisted we celebrate privately tonight, just the two of us, before the big party tomorrow. How romantic, I'd thought. How foolish.

Our bedroom door stood slightly ajar, warm golden light spilling into the hallway. I could hear voices—Julian's deep laugh, and something else. Something that made my blood freeze.

A woman's giggle. Familiar. Intimate.

"God, I can't believe she still doesn't suspect anything," the voice said, breathless with laughter. My champagne flute slipped from nerveless fingers, shattering against the marble floor.

Veronica. My best friend since childhood. My maid of honor. The woman I'd trusted with every secret, every fear, every joy.

"Five years of slow poison, and she thinks she's just getting older," Julian's voice carried clearly through the crack in the door. "The vitamins were genius, Vee. She takes them so religiously."

My legs gave out. I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until I was crouched on the floor like a broken doll. Five years. The vitamins he brought me every morning with my coffee, kissing my forehead so tenderly. The vitamins I'd thanked him for, touched by his concern for my health.

"Her liver function is almost gone," Veronica's voice was clinical now, devoid of the warmth she'd always shown me. "The doctor thinks it's genetic. Poor little Anastasia, so weak, so fragile."

"Fifty billion dollars," Julian said, and I could hear the hunger in his voice. "Once she's gone, it all comes to me as her spouse. Marcus was right—this was the perfect long game."

Marcus. My uncle. The man who'd bounced me on his knee as a child, who'd walked me down the aisle when my father's back gave out that morning.

I forced myself to peer through the crack in the door. Julian was naked, his body—the body I'd worshipped, loved, trusted—moving over Veronica's pale form. Her red hair was spread across my pillow, my Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around their writhing bodies.

"How much longer?" Veronica gasped between Julian's kisses.

"Weeks, maybe days. Her last blood work showed complete organ failure. The beauty is, it'll look completely natural. Just a tragic genetic condition that finally claimed her."

They were laughing. Actually laughing as they discussed my death like a business transaction.

I stumbled backward, my vision blurring. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before me. I had to get out. Had to run. Had to—

My legs buckled completely. The poison. Five years of it coursing through my veins, destroying me from the inside while I smiled and thanked my loving husband for taking such good care of me.

I crawled toward the staircase, my wedding ring—the symbol of our eternal love—scraping against the marble floor. Each breath was agony. My heart hammered erratically in my chest.

"Anastasia?" Julian's voice called from behind me. "Darling, are you home?"

I tried to stand, tried to run, but my body betrayed me. I collapsed at the top of the grand staircase, the same staircase where Julian had proposed, where we'd taken countless photos, where I'd dreamed of carrying our children someday.

"Well, well," Julian appeared above me, completely naked, his handsome face twisted into something unrecognizable. "How much did you hear, my love?"

Veronica emerged behind him, wrapping herself in my silk robe. The robe Julian had given me for our first anniversary. "Enough, I'd say. Look at her face."

I tried to speak, to scream, to beg, but only a whisper emerged. "Why?"

Julian crouched beside me, his fingers—the same fingers that had caressed me, held me, promised to love me forever—stroking my cheek with mock tenderness. "Because you were born rich, and I was born hungry. Because you trusted everyone, and I trusted no one. Because you were weak, and I was strong."

"The inheritance was always the goal," Veronica added, her voice bright and cheerful, as if she were discussing the weather. "From the very first day Julian walked into your eighteenth birthday party. Love at first sight? Please. More like dollar signs at first sight."

My vision was darkening at the edges. "My father... he loved you like a son..."

"Your father is a sentimental fool," Julian said. "Just like you. Marcus saw the bigger picture. The family needed... restructuring."

I felt his hands on my shoulders. Strong hands. Hands that had held me during thunderstorms, that had dried my tears, that had promised to protect me until death do us part.

"Don't worry, darling," he whispered against my ear. "I'll give a beautiful eulogy. Everyone will remember what a loving husband I was. How devoted. How heartbroken."

The push was sudden, violent. I tumbled down the marble staircase, my body striking each step with sickening thuds. My spine snapped somewhere around the middle. My skull cracked against the marble floor at the bottom.

As darkness closed in, I heard Julian's voice drifting down from above.

"Finally, we can be together openly."

Veronica's laughter was like broken glass. "Stupid Anastasia. This was always the plan from day one."

The last thing I saw was the crystal chandelier above me, the one Julian and I had chosen together for our dream home. Its light was fading, or maybe I was.

Twenty-eight years old. Dead at the bottom of my own staircase, murdered by the two people I'd loved most in the world.

If only I could do it all over again.

If only I could have one more chance.

If only...