The Woman at Her Own Funeral

"Walk slowely," Zephyr said from the driver's seat, he was not looking at me, his eyes on the cemetery gates ahead.

 "What?"

 "You walk too fast, like you're always running from something… Meliah walked that way, Elietta doesn't. Elietta owns every room she enters, she takes her time because everyone will wait for her." He parked the car three rows back from the funeral entrance. "Slower steps, chin up, shoulders back, you're not afraid anymore, you're the thing people should be afraid of."

 I looked down at myself, at the black dress he'd bought me this morning, designer label I couldn't pronounce, fit like it was sewn onto my new body, my altered body, my stranger's body.

 My hair was different now, shorter, darker, and styled in waves I'd never worn before.

 My face… Jesus Christ…. my face looked nothing like the woman who died three days ago.

 "What if he knows?" I asked, hating how my voice shook. "What if Dexter takes one look at me and just… knows?"

 Zephyr turned to face me then, those silver-blue eyes catching mine.

 "He won't," Zephyr said, quiet, certain. "Dexter never really looked at you when you were alive, he's not going to recognize you now that you're someone worth his attention."

 That hurt more than it should have.

 "Come on," I said, reaching for the door handle. "Let's go watch me get buried."

 The funeral was smaller than I expected.

 Maybe thirty people, mostly Dexter's business associates, a few distant relatives I'd met once at the wedding. My parents weren't there, they'd cut me off when I married him, said he was using me. They were right, I was too stupid to listen.

 The casket sat at the front, white roses covering the top, it was closed. Thank God it was closed because there was nothing inside except probably pillows or sandbags or whatever funeral homes used when the body went missing.

 Dexter stood beside it in a black suit, expensive, perfectly tailored, face appropriately sad, talking to someone I didn't recognize.

 Then I saw her.

 Scylla.

 Standing three feet behind Dexter, black dress, crying, wiping her eyes with a tissue like she actually gave a damn that I was dead.

 My hands curled into fists without permission.

 "Calm your nerves," Zephyr whispered next to me, his hand was suddenly on the small of my back, steadying. "You're Elietta… remember. Elietta doesn't know these people, Elietta is here out of professional courtesy, nothing more."

 I forced my fingers open, forced my face into something neutral.

 "Good," he said. "Now walk… slow, like I taught you."

 We moved through the small crowd, people glanced at us, at me, curious. Probably wondering who this woman was with Zephyr Arcanis, the reclusive billionaire who never attended social events.

 Dexter noticed us approaching.

 His eyes went to Zephyr first, recognition and surprise, then they slid to me.

 I watched my husband look at me for the first time in my second life.

 Watched his eyes travel from my face down to my body and back up, slow, assessing, and interested.

 He didn't recognize me.

 Not even a little.

 "Mr. Arcanis," Dexter said, extending his hand, putting on his business smile, the one he used to use on clients. "I didn't expect to see you here."

 "Thornwick," Zephyr shook his hand briefly, let go fast. "My condolences, I knew your wife's family, thought I should pay my respects."

 Liar, smooth, perfect liar.

 Dexter's attention shifted back to me, hungry, barely concealed.

 "And you are?"

 "Elietta Valoria," I said, offering my hand, making sure my voice came out different from before, lower, smoother, and confident. "I'm sorry for your loss… Mr. Thornwick."

 He took my hand, held it too long.

 "Dexter, please," he said, thumb brushing across my knuckles before releasing. "Valoria… that name sounds familiar, are you in finance?"

 "Venture capital," I said. "I just moved to New York last month, still getting settled."

 "Venture capital," Dexter repeated, and I could see the wheels turning, see him calculating how I could be useful. "We should talk sometime, I'm always looking for new investment opportunities… perhaps dinner?"

 Behind him, Scylla had stopped crying, she was watching us now, watching Dexter look at me the way he used to look at her.

 Good.

 "Perhaps," I said, not agreeing, not refusing, just keeping him interested. "Though I imagine you'll need time to grieve first, your wife just passed… after all."

 Something moved across his face. Annoyance maybe, or guilt he was trying to hide.

 "Yes, Meliah," he said her name… my name, like it tasted bad. "It was, sudden, unexpected, she had complications with the pregnancy, we tried everything but… sometimes these things happen."

 Liar.

 Fucking liar standing three feet from my empty coffin lying about how I died.

 "How terrible," I said, keeping my voice sympathetic, fake, and perfect. "And the baby?"

 "Didn't make it," Dexter said, not even pretending to be sad about losing his child. "Six months along… boy to be precise, we were going to name him Marcus after my father."

 Another lie.

 We never discussed names, he never cared enough to discuss names, and I didn't even know if the baby was a boy or girl because we hadn't done the anatomy scan yet.

 "I'm so sorry," I said, meaning it for my baby, not for him. "That must be incredibly difficult."

 "It is," Dexter agreed, putting on his wounded husband face. "But Scylla has been a tremendous help, she's my assistant, I don't even know what I'd do without her right now."

 Scylla stepped forward at her name, forced smile, red eyes from fake tears.

 "It's been hard on all of us," she said, voice sweet, and poisonous. "Meliah was… special, we were very close… like sisters."

 I wanted to rip her throat out.

 Wanted to grab her by her perfect hair and drag her to the empty casket and ask her if she remembered screaming Dexter's name while I died.

 Instead I smiled.

 "How lovely," I said. "Having someone who understands must make this easier, grief is always lighter when shared."

 Dexter’s smile stiffened for a moment, quick enough to miss. But not by me.

 She didn't like me already, good, the feeling was mutual.

 Zephyr's hand pressed against my back again, signal, time to go.

 "We should let you get back to your guests," Zephyr said. "Again, my condolences."

 "Wait," Dexter said, reaching into his jacket, pulling out a business card. "Ms. Valoria, I meant what I said about dinner, call me when you're ready. I'd love to discuss potential partnerships."

 I took the card, his fingers brushing mine again, deliberate.

 "I'll think about it," I said, and I put the card into my purse without looking at it.

 We walked away, slow, measured, past the casket, past my name engraved on flowers, past people who thought they were mourning me but really just came for the networking.

 I didn't look back.

 Couldn't, not yet, not until we were back in the car with the doors closed and the cemetery behind us.

 Then I started shaking.

 "You did well," Zephyr said, starting the engine.

 "He touched me," I whispered, staring at my hand where Dexter's fingers had been. "He killed me… he touched me and he didn't even know."

 "No, he didn't know, which means the plan worked. You're Elietta now, he's interested, he gave you his card, in two days you'll call him… set up that dinner, and we begin phase two."

 "Phase two," I repeated, trying to focus, trying not to think about how Dexter's eyes had traveled over my body like I was something to consume.

 "Seduction," Zephyr said, pulling out of the parking lot. "Make him want you, make him obsessed with you, make him choose you over Scylla. Once he's completely invested, we gonna destroy him."

 "I don't know how to seduce anyone," I said, laughed once, sharp and ugly. "In case you missed it, I was the wife he cheated on, not exactly a femme fatale."

 Zephyr glanced at me, there's something in his expression I couldn't read or understand.

 "Then I'll teach you," he said quietly. "Everything you need to know… how to touch someone without touching them, how to make a man want something he can't have, how to be the thing he dreams about when he's with someone else."

 "You've done this before," I said, not a question.

 "Two hundred and seventeen years," he reminded me. "I've learned a few things about desire."

 The way he said it made my skin feel too warm.

 "When do we start?" I asked.

 "Tonight," Zephyr said. "The penthouse has everything we need, I'll show you how to move, how to speak, how to make every gesture deliberate, how to become irresistible."

 The penthouse looked different at night.

 Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city lights below, thousands of lives happening while mine reset, while I learned to become someone else.

 Zephyr poured two glasses of wine, handed me one, his fingers were cold when they brushed mine.

 "First lesson," he said. "Seduction isn't about sex, it's about control. It's making someone believe they're the one in control while you pull every string."

 I took a sip of wine, expensive, tasted like money.

 "How do I do that?"

 "Watch me," he said, set his glass down, moved closer, not touching but close enough I could feel the cold radiating off his skin. "Seduction is about distance and proximity. It's being close enough to want but far enough to ache… notice how I'm standing right now, close but not crowding, interested but not desperate.

 I noticed.

 Noticed how my body leaned toward him without permission, noticed how my next breath came slower.

 "It's working," I said, tried to make it sound like observation, not confession.

 "Good," Zephyr said, stepped back, distance restored. "Now you try, seduce me."

 "What… no, I don't… how am I supposed to," I fumbled over words, felt my face heat like a boiling water.

 "Meliah," he said, using my real name, the one no one else could use anymore. "If you can't seduce me in a controlled environment where nothing matters, you'll never seduce Dexter when everything does… try."

 I set my wine glass down, wiped my palms on my dress.

 Moved toward him, too fast, too eager, knew it was wrong the second I did it.

 "Stop," Zephyr said. "You're rushing, seduction is patience. Try again, slower this time, make me wait for you."

 I stepped back, tried again, slower this time, one foot in front of the other, then i kept my eyes on his.

 "Better," he said. "Now touch me, somewhere unexpected, not sexual, just, intimate."

 My hand lifted, hesitated, landed on his chest, right over where his heart should be beating but wasn't.

 "Too obvious," he said, but he didn't move my hand away. "Try somewhere else."

 I slid my hand up, traced the line of his jaw, felt the muscle there jump under my fingertips.

 "There," Zephyr said, voice quieter now. "That's… better."

 We stood there, my hand on his face, his eyes on mine, and something changed in the air between us.

 Something that had nothing to do with lessons or revenge or practice.

 "Zephyr," I whispered.

 "Don't," he said, caught my wrist, moved my hand away from his face. "This isn't real... Meliah, this is training, nothing more."

 But the way he said it, the way his fingers stayed wrapped around my wrist a second too long.

 It didn't feel like nothing.

 "Right," I said, pulled away, tried to ignore how my skin felt cold where he'd been touching. "Training, got it."

 "Again," Zephyr said, walked to the other side of the room. "This time, seduce me without touching at all. Use your words, your voice, make me want to close the distance."

 We practiced for hours.

 Different scenarios, different approaches, how to flirt without being obvious, how to make innocent conversation sound like invitation, how to walk away and make someone desperate to follow.

 By the time Zephyr called it done, the city outside had gone quiet, three in the morning, maybe later.

 "You're a fast learner," he said, poured more wine even though we'd already finished the bottle and started another. "In two days you'll be ready for Dexter."

 "And if I'm not?" I asked.

 "You will be," Zephyr said, no doubt, just certainty. "You have something Dexter could never resist."

 "What's that?"

 "Motivation," he said. "Dexter wants money and power, you want to watch him bleed, there's no competition."

 I looked out the window at the city, at all those lives happening below, wondered how many of them were like mine, broken, rebuilt, hunting the people who broke them first.

 "What happened to Elena?" I asked, didn't look at him, I just kept my eyes on the glass.

 Long silence, so long I thought he wouldn't answer.

 Then.

 "She died the way you did," Zephyr said, the words were clean, but the feeling wasn’t there. "Betrayed by someone she loved, I brought her back, gave her three years, watched her waste them on revenge that didn't matter. When the time ran out and her body started failing, she begged me to let her die… she said living with what she'd become was worse than dying in the first place."

 I turned to look at him.

 "Did you?"

 "Did I what?"

 "Let her die."

 Zephyr's eyes met mine, and for the first time I saw something crack in that perfect cold mask.

 "No," he whispered. "I tried to save her, tried to extend the resurrection, poured everything I had into keeping her alive… but it didn't work, she died in my arms, hating me for not letting her go when she asked."

 "I'm sorry," I said, meant it.

 "Don't be," Zephyr said, then he turned away. "It was a hundred and fifty years ago, I barely remember her face anymore."

 Liar.

 He remembered, I could see it in the way his shoulders stayed too tight, in the way he wouldn't look at me anymore.

 "Get some sleep," he said. "Tomorrow we practice more, the day after you call Dexter, and then… then we see if you're ready to destroy him."

 He walked away before I could respond, disappeared into his room, door closing with a soft click.

 I stood there al

one, staring at the closed door, at the city below, at my reflection in the window… stranger's face staring back.

 My phone buzzed in my purse.

 I pulled it out, didn't recognize the number, almost didn't answer.

 Then I did.

 "Hello?"

 Breathing on the other end, heavy, deliberate.

 Then a voice I'd never expected to hear again.

 "Meliah," Dexter said, and I stopped breathing. "I know it's you.”