From Prison To Power: The Ex-Wife's Vengeance
He set it on the vanity and vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.
I opened the lid.
Inside lay two dozen white roses. They were exquisite, but they were wrong.
They were preserved in a state of unnatural, waxy perfection, their petals stiff and cold. They were the exact variety Antonio had filled the church with for my funeral.
I reached into the box and pulled out a small, silver vial Jax had prepared for me. It contained a chemical accelerant, a specialized rot-agent.
I began to spray the blooms. Slowly, before my eyes, the pristine white began to brown at the edges. The petals curled and shriveled, the scent of fresh floral sweetness turning into the cloying, sickly stench of organic deca
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