Chapter 2 - The Predator’s Banquet
In the week that followed my "death,"
Damien Finch played the role of the grieving widower with the precision of an Oscar-winning actor.
He moved Wendy into our home within forty-eight hours,
claiming she was a "distraught friend" helping him navigate the tragedy.
I watched them through the high-definition security feeds Harris had hacked into our old living room.
They sat on my sofa,
drinking my expensive wine,
laughing about the "clumsiness" of a pregnant woman on a mountain trail.
"Fifty million,
Damien,"
Wendy purred,
running her fingers through the very hair I used to stroke.
"We can move to the islands,
buy the yacht,
and never have to look at this dreary city again."
Damien smiled,
that same charming,
lethal smile that had once made my heart skip a beat.
"The insurance investigators are already satisfied,"
he boasted,
leaning back against the cushions I had picked out.
"The police report says it was an accidental fall due to heavy weather and poor visibility."
"Even her biological records came back as a dead end—she was just an orphan with no one to claim her."
"I’m the sole beneficiary,
the grieving husband,
the victim of a cruel twist of fate."
He toasted the air,
his eyes gleaming with a terrifying lack of remorse.
He spoke of me as if I were a hurdle he had finally cleared,
a nuisance that had served its purpose by qualifying for the massive life insurance policy.
He didn't mention the baby once.
To him,
his own daughter was just a piece of collateral damage,
a footnote in his grand financial scheme.
Meanwhile,
in the sanctuary of Harris's estate,
I was undergoing a different kind of transformation.
The scars on my face were healing under the care of the world's best plastic surgeons,
but I told them to leave the thin line near my temple.
I wanted a reminder.
I wanted to see the mark of the mountain every time I looked in the mirror.
Harris sat with me every day,
sharing stories of the mother I never knew and the reasons he had been forced to give me up.
He was a man of immense power,
but in those moments,
he was just a father trying to make up for thirty years of absence in a single week.
"He thinks he’s won because he’s playing a game of checkers,"
Harris said,
watching the feed of Damien and Wendy.
"But I own the board,
the table,
and the room they’re sitting in."
"The insurance payout has been approved,
Eloise."
"We will deliver the check to him on the day of the funeral,
right before the service begins."
"The height of his greed will be the exact moment of his downfall."
I felt a cold,
sharp satisfaction settle in my chest.
Let them toast to my demise.
Let them plan their escape to the tropics.
Because the higher they climbed on their mountain of lies,
the more devastating the fall would be.
I spent my nights practicing my gait,
learning to walk again with the weight of my child and the weight of my vengeance.
May you like
I wasn't just a survivor anymore.
I was the storm that Damien Finch never saw coming.
