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The Vision She Hid 73
I wondered whether Freya waited for me that evening. If she did, her waiting was in vain. I spent the sleepless night hanging from the rail, being sick on Elky’s boat. The storm passed around 5 am. The sea has become too calm for comfort. It lay outside my round window like a silk sheet—smooth, quiet, hiding things that mattered. It was the kind of morning that made you suspicious of too good weather and men in well-pressed chinos.I walked into Elky’s office without knocking. I never knocked anymore. Not after I saw what he did to the guy who always waited for permission.He didn’t look up. Just closed a leather-covered notebook with the kind of care you reserve for love letters and legal threats. His fingers lingered on the cover an extra second, like the book might whisper back if he pressed hard enough.There was a sheet of A4 paper on his desk—cream, textured, fine, the kind that flakes dignity when you fold it. There were names written in black ink. Some underlined. Some circled
The Vision She Hid 72
The familiar turtleneck worn under navy blazer with gold buttons peeked up from beneath the grand staircase. I smiled. The guy went to the wrong floor. Now he lost me and got stuck in Beauty department. He held a phone in his hand, so the message was his idea of bullying. I fought an urge to beautify his face by adding a few nice looking bruisers to his smug face but I was running late.“Come, come, you bastard,”I muttered. “I’ve practiced knife throwing not for nothing.”But the brute was too hopeless. He had no way of figuring out where I was heading.I found the knife, tucked it closer against my ribs, and texted the driver to wait five blocks away from Laduree.And by the way, I wasn’t walking into any perfumed traps.I was setting one up.I took an elevator and walked into Ellie Saab boutique in Harrods. The kind of place where girl’s guilt came gift-wrapped, and you could drop three grand without breaking a nail. On any other day I would enjoy hanging around, browsing. But that
The Vision She Hid 71
The rain had stopped pretending to be polite. It smeared down the window like it was in on something I wouldn’t approve. I sat in the back seat of Elky’s new Bentley, leather soft as a lie, elbows on my knees, a note folded twice in my lap like a secret trying not to shake. It was my second official outing from the house, not entirely unsupervised, naturally. Elky had loaned me the car with a smile that looked too generous and a driver that knew better than to ask idle questions.“Do you have to go shopping?” Elky’d said.I nodded and showed him a list I’ve scribbled down the last minute. It looked genuine enough. I was running out of moisturizer and my favorite pink pearl shade of lipstick, but I usually topped them up online. It took me some time to convince Elky why online didn’t work that well for the evening gowns and the seasonal camouflage a wife of respectable mafia boss has to wear in public every new season. It was a few month ago, just before the tragic dinner were some lun
The Vision She Hid 70
It took Marta three full minutes to hand over the key. Not because she didn’t know where it was—she reached for it with the certainty of someone who’d memorized its shape by heart—but because she knew exactly what I was about to find.“It hasn’t been opened for a long time,” she said, eyes on the rusted little thing lying on the wine table between us. “If he left anything, it’s been there waiting for you,” she said.The old greenhouse stood like abandoned heaven, beautiful once, rotting now. Its windows were filmed with mildew, its doors locked tight with the kind of padlock that suggested someone thought glass alone wasn’t enough to keep the dirty past from leaking.I shoved the key inside a rusty piece of metal that ceased to look like a lock. It hesitated, resisted for a bit, then turned with a promising click.Inside, it was humid, warm and stale. The scent of decay, mold, and damp, unwanted paperwork. The vines had long since claimed the corners of the metal frame, curling over
The Vision She Hid 69
That drawer was older than my two granddads, and twice as stubborn. It stuck halfway, like it knew better than to give up secrets after midnight. But I wasn’t in the mood for furniture with opinions. I yanked, cursed softly, gave it a forceful pull and the thing groaned open like it was confessing to a crime.Inside was yellowed lace, a rolled-up menu from a wedding reception, and a photo album bound in white leather. It had that brittle look—like if you breathed too hard on it, the ghosts inside might run away. I flipped it open.There they were. Elky and Celeste, she looked exactly like me. They were newly married. Smiling like the world hadn’t noticed the wolves in tuxedos at their reception. She changed into pale blue, the Grace Kelly vibe. He looked like a man who’d won something he hadn’t earned and knew it. But it was the way he looked at her that cracked something soft in my ribs.I started to close the album, but the page felt thick too. Like it had something else for me to s
The Vision She Hid 68
But Marta didn’t have a chance to tell me what it was. There was a loud bang somewhere in the garden. I recognized the sadly familiar sound of a car exploding in the car park. I felt Marta’s strong hands grabbing my shoulders, protecting me from what may come next. But nothing did; just people running down the stairs to look what happened. Some out of fear, some out of curiosity, and at least one of them to double check that what had to be burn did so nicely. It was my chance to do the work done and I was too alert to waste it. I slipped out of Marta’s embrace and joined the crowd stomping outside. Only I didn’t go with the flow towards the car park. The night was the kind that pressed its palms over your mouth and whispered, “Don’t scream.” I slipped out of the stomping crowd of staff and confused bodyguards like a rumor on legs, taking the long path toward the stables that hadn’t seen a horse since grief ran its last lap. The moon dragged over the estate like it owed me an explanat
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