Chapter 4 - The Fragrance of the End
The next morning brought a storm,
the rain lashing against the windows that Jessica had measured.
She returned early,
this time carrying a stack of fabric samples.
She didn't even pretend to be an interior designer today.
She sat in the armchair across from my bed,
tossing my old journals onto the floor to make room for her swatches.
"David says you're getting worse,"
she said,
looking at me with a fake,
pitying smile.
"He’s such a good man,
staying by your side through all of this."
She reached out and picked up a piece of silk,
draping it over her arm.
"I think we'll go with the gold. It feels more... royal."
She stood up and walked to my closet,
pulling the doors open with a violent jerk.
She began to pull out my dresses,
the ones I had designed,
the ones I had worn to galas and award ceremonies.
"These are so dated,"
she remarked,
tossing a Chanel suit onto the heap on the floor.
"I’ll have them all cleared out by Monday. Maybe I’ll donate them to a shelter,
or just burn them."
I watched her,
my eyes recording every movement,
every insult.
She was packing my life away while I was still using it.
It was a level of cruelty that I hadn't thought possible,
even from her.
"You know,"
she said,
turning back to me,
"David told me you were a genius. But you don't look very smart right now."
She walked over to the bed and leaned in close,
her floral perfume filling my nose until I wanted to gag.
"I've been in his life for two years,
Eliza. Two years of laughing at you while you worked late."
"Two years of him telling me how much he hated coming home to you."
She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead,
her touch mocking and cruel.
"You're just a bank account with a terminal diagnosis."
I didn't blink.
I didn't look away.
I wanted her to see the clarity in my eyes,
even if she couldn't understand it.
She laughed,
a high,
brittle sound,
and went back to the closet.
She started packing my jewelry into a small velvet bag she had brought.
The emeralds my father gave me.
The diamond watch I bought for myself when I made partner.
She was looting a living woman.
"David said I could have these,"
she whispered,
slipping a ring onto her own finger.
"He said they would look better on a hand that can actually move."
I felt a strange sense of calm.
The more she took,
the more she justified what was coming.
Every stolen ring was another nail in their coffin.
Every discarded dress was a reason to ensure they never saw a dime of my fortune.
I looked at the computer monitor.
Mr. Sterling had sent a message back.
"Everything is in place. The moment the notification arrives,
the process begins. Sleep well,
my dear."
I wasn't going to sleep yet.
I wanted to watch them one last time.
I wanted to see the heights of their greed so that I could enjoy the depth of their fall.
Jessica finished with the jewelry and walked out,
leaving my room a wreck of discarded silk and broken memories.
She didn't know that she had just stolen items that were specifically listed as "stolen" in my final document.
By wearing that ring,
she was providing the final piece of evidence of her character.
May you like
I waited for David to return,
knowing he would be there to check on his "investment" before the night was over.
