Page 226 of Vexatious Queen

I returned to the piano and lifted the lid. My fingers hovered over the ivory keys, remembering what to do before my mind caught up. I played Clair de Lune, soft and deliberate, the melody filling the room like a confession I couldn’t speak aloud. It was one of Eddie’s favorites. He once told me it sounded like longing dressed as grace.

Each note pressed against my ribs, threading regret and love into something fragile and familiar. I played not to be heard, but on the off chance that he was listening somewhere in this house. That he would understand I never meant to cause him so much pain.

“And who exactly are you?”

The next notes froze as I looked over my shoulder to see a woman around my age standing in the doorway. Her black hair was done up in a twist, make-up perfect, outfit easily twenty grand. I recognized every brand she draped herself in and the dark, jealous scowl on her face.

Patricia. It hurt that she was still in Eddie’s life.

“You must be Patricia,” I said, trying hard not to sound annoyed.

I’d never wanted to see a picture of the woman Eddie married, but the arrogant glare and self-righteous attitude, like I was standing on her property, did all the talking. It didn’t matter that she and Eddie had never shared a bed or his heart. She had my life with the man I loved, and knowing what she looked like would’ve only rotted parts of my brain as it urged me to do something stupid.

“And you are,” she asked.

I really hated it when people talked down to me. I’d endured men doing that most of my life, and I wasn’t going to let this woman do the same thing. I stood and turned to face Patricia. Her mouth dropped as she looked me up and down.

“You’re…you’re…her…but it can’t be. You’re supposed to be…”

“Dead.”

She blinked, and for whatever reason, she reminded me of a little lizard.

“How are you here?” Her brown eyes narrowed into a glare.

“It’s a long story.”

She stepped into the room.

“You…whore,” Patricia said, seething.

I hadn’t been expecting that, but if she wanted to go shot for shot, I was feeling petty.

“Sorry, dear, I believe you’ve confused me with yourself,” I said, knowing all too well that she’d been with multiple men long before Eddie and I lost touch. “I remained loyal to Eddie and our vows.”

“I have dreamed of finding you and stabbing you for interfering in my marriage,” she snarled.

“Well now, you’re just as pleasant as Eddie described,” I said, and her nostrils flared angrily.

“Stop calling him that. He doesn’t like to be called Eddie.”

I sighed.

“Correction, he doesn’t like to be called Eddie by you, or anyone who isn’t me. So, I’ll call him whatever I want,” I said, my hackles starting to rise as she inched closer.

“It’s all your fault. He never gave our marriage a real chance, and it’s all because of you and that brat daughter of yours. I could’ve made him happy. I should be the one making him happy right now, but you were always there, like a shadow I couldn’t shake. No matter where I turned, there was something else to remind me of your epic love story.”

Patricia pointed at me, her anger palpable.

“Did you never think that it was time to walk away? I understand marrying Eddie to get out of your marriage contract, but a few years in, why not leave and find someone who could actually love you? Why hold on to hope when it was so clearly never going to happen?”

“Because I loved him,” she snarled.

“How can you love someone who so blatantly never reciprocated the feelings?”

Patricia took another step, and I subtly set my stance. She was going to attack me. I could sense the pressure in the room building like a balloon filling with air.

“I was happy when you died,” she hissed. “Because for the first time in years, I didn’t have to live in your shadow. But even then—” Her laugh cracked into something ugly. “Even dead, you were still everywhere. Your name. Your memory. His guilt. I was competing with a ghost.”