Page 6 of Nemesis
Since I’d been put into protective custody, a lot of my personal information had been manipulated. But I still had gone through all the databases, combing through every possible record where my name had been mentioned—hospital stays, schools frequented, events attended.
Herrera had vanished within a few keystrokes and Kane had been born. Since most medical institutions had gone digital, Kane had been crafted after I’d hacked into the local hospital’s patient records and had replaced a Jane Doe’s file with her information.
My body and face had changed a lot over the years, so all I needed was a good pair of scissors and a box of black hair dye to become this new version.
After the loss of his wife, Victor had a habit of visiting the Mogador, a hotel a few blocks into downtown, like clockwork. Two weeks into following him there and learning his routine, I’d found myself sitting at the same bar, at the exact same moment he had been nursing his fifth whiskey, his nose and cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
The rest had been quite easy. Our conversation eventually had led to me opening up and sharing that I was newly widowed and new to town. He’d offered to show me around the city and a few weeks later, he’d proposed.
See, easy. It was a shame for him that he thought he was getting a sweet, innocent wife to keep at his side.
A smug smile tugged at my lips, but my attention snapped back whenmy husbandsplayed his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to his side. He cleared his throat and gestured over our guests to silence them so he could recite his scripted speech.
After grabbing his glass with his free hand, he started spewing how grateful he was to have found a second chance at love with me.
I forced the hatred I had for this man away and shoved any hint of repulsion from his touch back down as I put my hand over his chest and plastered a well-practiced smile on my face while I waited for him to finish.
“To you,mi amor,” he finally said, raising his glass in a toast before planting a chaste kiss on my cheek.
Everyone lifted their glasses in response and drank. I turned to whisper a “thank you” in his ear, then took another sip of my own drink, letting the bubbles distract me from the resuming chatter.
When our guests looked at me, they saw a devoted wife gleaming at her husband with love in her eyes, when I was actually fighting the urge to pick up my dinner knife and drive it into his neck, just so I could watch his blood decorate the white cake made in honor of our union.
The soiree was dragging on for longer than I expected, slowly draining my social battery. I wasn't much of a people person and I would much rather be at home, on my couch, doing nothing, than dealing with people. But I had to change my habits and learn to become a social and caring wife to execute this role perfectly.
It wasn't always an easy task.
Being the wife of Victor Morales was an infuriating paradox. I was supposed to find my greatest happiness in giving and serving myhusband, yet was also required to be independent. I was supposed to dress to impress, but not enough to attract attention. I was supposed to be successful and supportive, but not to the extent of overshadowing him.
The only good thing about marrying him was that he was one step closer to his death and I was one step closer to my revenge.
When most of our guests started receiving messages from their babysitters to pick up their kids, my husband and I thanked everyone for coming and made non-committal promises to see each other soon.
After they all left, Victor’s hand found my lower back once again, escorting us out of the dining room and into the lobby for us to wait for our driver.
The drive home was quiet. Victor spent it going through his emails and notes his assistant left him regarding the meetings scheduled for this upcoming week and I was more than happy to not have to entertain him with idle conversation.
Our driver put the blinkers on before turning down the gravel road, slowing to a stop to enter the codes at the entry gates, which were installed a few months ago, courtesy of the paparazzi that kept harassing us ever since the announcement of our prompt engagement.
As soon as Omar parked behind the line of vehicles in our circular driveway, Jaxon, our head of security, emerged from the front door of the house and walked down to greet us.
Tall, with broad shoulders, his dark hair was shaved close to his scalp, emphasizing his strong brows-and-hazel eyes that complemented his dark brown skin. Jaxon had been working for Victor for the past five years, taking over after his father’s retirement.
There were six other guards working under him, only two staying overnight while the others only came every now and then when Victor needed reinforced security on the premises. When they weren't at the house, they fulfilled whatever tasks Victor sent them to do.
“Anything to report?” Victor asked after climbing out of the car.
He glanced back at me and offered his hand to help me get out of the car.What a gentleman.I accepted it regardless since I was wearing these insufferable six-inch red bottom heels all because he’d thought they would match perfectly with the dress he’d bought me specifically for this occasion.
I wished Omar a good night and closed the door behind me.
Jaxon bowed his head in deference. “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Just a gift delivery for your anniversary. Rosa left it on top of the table in the entryway.”
Linking our fingers together, Victor dropped his free hand on Jaxon’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jaxon. If that’s all, you and the others can take it easy for the rest of the night.”
“Thank you, sir. Señora Olivia.”
Jaxon bowed his head once more, then left to join the rest of the team in the back where their offices were.
