Page 92 of Vicious Souls

She doesn’t deserve it. None of it. It should’ve been mine.

My eyes drift to the photograph pinned to the wall, a glossy image of Kingsley leaving the building, her smile radiant, her eyes shimmering like diamonds. My hand hovers over the photo before I rip it down, my fingers curling into fists around the edges.

The mission had been simple. Get the job and get close to Kingsley Murray. Learn her weaknesses, and destroy her from the inside. At first, I'd been content to play my part, shadowing Kingsley, noting every decision, every vulnerability. But the more time I spent in her orbit, the more my resentment festered that I was doing the dirty work while she was sitting in the lap of luxury. The plan had to evolve.Myplan had to evolve. I won’t be listening tohimanymore.

The plan was stupid to begin with. If only I’d gone with my own gut instinct, Kingsley and I would be best friends right now. It was inevitable. We’re sisters, after all. Blood sisters. How could we not bond as blood sisters would? But it had been hard…so hard. So difficult to see past her tough exterior, to get close to her when she trusts no-one. And that time…that one time when she wasso rudeto me when she decided to take a day off work and didn’t want to be disturbed. She actuallyscreamedat me!

Everything. She has everything. And she doesn’t deserve an ounce of it.

She’s everything I’m not, and she has everything I don’t. She moves through life effortlessly, without struggle, handed everything on a gold platter.She hasmore money than grace.This only fuels my bitterness. Every meeting, every smile, every compliment directed at Kingsley feels like a personal insult, a reminder of everything I’ve been cheated out of.

He thinks she’s perfect. Did you see the size of that damn rock he placed on her finger?

I tried. I really, really did. But Kingsley is so stuck up, I think the stick up her ass is three times too big for her. She doesn’t like me. She never even gave me a chance. She’s mean to me. Rude. Obnoxious. So full of herself. And the way she looks down at me, as though I’m less than she is…she is so damn conceited.

Every time I try to sabotage her, Kingsley somehow always recovers, her composure unshaken, her success unblemished. She somehow even managed to convince me to drink the coffee I’d laced with sedatives. I don’t even know how I managed to get out of the office before my carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down. And the roses…well, I thought that was a nice touch, just enough to tip her over the edge and send her running out of town. Or into my arms, seeking refuge. Instead, she ran straight into Dante Accardi’s arms, once again playing the role of damsel in distress. Luck knows exactly where it lives with Kingsley Murray.

* * *

The penthouse is a fortress,its sleek design and cutting-edge security a testament to Kingsley’s power. But I’ve studied it, memorized every detail, every weakness. I know every inch of the apartment, every little nook and crevice. I slip through the service entrance unnoticed, my familiarity with the building’s inner workings granting me passage. The elevator ride is excruciatingly slow, each floor passed bringing me closer to the summit—and to Kingsley.

When I reach the penthouse, I creep inside like a phantom. The space is dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Kingsley will be here any minute. I creep into her bedroom closet and wait.

I sit in silence, waiting as time travels past me, until I hear the bussing that signals the front door opening. Then the click of the door as it shuts behind her. There’s utter silence in the penthouse, until I her the soft clicks of her heels as she moves through the penthouse, then comes to a stop. She’s probably by the living room window, looking down from her throne at all the little people beneath her, as is her usual practise. I know this is her favourite part of the day.

My breath quickens. I have rehearsed this moment a hundred times, but now that it’s here, my thoughts swirl in a chaotic storm. I leave the closet and walk stealthily through the room and down the hallway. I release the knife from the sheath that’s strapped to my waist and hold it at my side, prepared for anything. Prepared for her to fight me. I’m sure she’s going to fight for her kingdom. For control of what she believes to be her empire.Stupid bitch.

I step forward, my shoes betraying me with a faint tap. I stop, listening to see if I’ve upset the balance in the penthouse with my movements.

Kingsley turns, her sharp eyes narrowing as she takes in the knife in my hand. “Fiona?” Her voice is laced with confusion and irritation. I’m sure she’s quite put out that she no longer has me running her menial little errands. If I had to write a book about her, I’d have plenty to put in there about how selfish and demanding she is. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” I tell her, my voice trembling. I don’t know why it shakes; I’m in no way afraid of her. If anything,sheshould be afraid ofme.

Kingsley’s expression hardens, then flicks back down to the knife at my side. “How did you even get in here?” For the first time, and rightly so, alarm bells go off in her head, and I watch as fear enters her eyes. With my disappearance, they would’ve cancelled my access. Which is all very good. But not very practical when Housekeeping still has access. “I’m calling security.”

“No!” My voice cracks as I lunge forward, my movements almost desperate as she takes out her phone, ready to make the call. I always knew she was cold hearted, but now she wants to have me removed?

Not in this lifetime. This should all be mine. It was always meant to be mine. He told me so.

“You’re a fraud, Kingsley Murray! You don’t deserve any of this—the success, the admiration. It’s all a facade blanketed by a lie.”

Kingsley’s eyes widen, and she steps back, her hand instinctively hovering over her phone screen. But I’m faster than she is; I drop the knife and lunge to grab her wrists, snatching the device out of her hand. She takes a step back, her lips parting in shock as I hurl the phone across the room.

“What are you doing?” Kingsley demands, her voice sharp and commanding. As usual. But I only tighten my grip on her wrists, my eyes wild with an intensity that sends a shiver down her spine. I watch with excitement as her face drains of all color.

“I’ve done everything I could,” I hiss, my breath hot against Kingsley’s face. “I couldn’t befriend you and I couldn’t break you. Do you know how maddening that is? Watching you win, day after day, while I…” My voice falters, a flicker of despair breaking through my rage. I hate feeling so helpless, so small.

The struggle erupts with sudden violence. Kingsley twists in my arms, leveraging her strength to break free from my grasp. She shoves me backward, and I stumble into a glass coffee table that shatters beneath my weight. Undeterred, I scramble to my feet, my movements erratic but determined. There is nothing like pure, ugly rage to fuel my hunger to destroy her.

Kingsley braces herself, her pulse hammering as adrenaline surges through her veins. When I lunge again, Kingsley sidesteps, using her height and strength to pin my arms behind my back. But it’s only momentary. With a roar, I break free and backhand her, sending her flying across the room. I pick up the knife and take slow steps toward her; I’m going to enjoy cutting her down to size.

“Whatever this is, Fiona, I can help you,” Kingsley growls from her place on the floor, her voice a mix of anger and fear. “You’re not well. You need help.”

I descend on her, tears streaming down my face. The only thing he was right about was that I had to destroy her in order to take my place at the table. There cannot be two queens to rule this kingdom. Kingsley will never share. She’ll never cede control to another. If I want what’s rightfully mine, I’ll have to take it myself. Notwaitfor it to be handed to me.

“I gave upeverythingfor this,” I scream at her. “But you couldn’t see! Nothing I did mattered. None of it!”

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