Chapter 120 The Vulture In Rayon And Sea Salt

Chapter 120 The Vulture In Rayon And Sea Salt
CHAPTER 120

The Vulture In Rayon And Sea Salt

The Aegean sun was a relentless spotlight, turning the terrace of the villa into a stage that Anna was perfectly content to watch from the lounge chairs.

Tucked into a shaded corner, she lay on her back, the cool stone a welcome contrast to the shimmering heat haze dancing over the infinity pool.

A few yards away, the “Rêve d’ Amour” crew was in the middle of a high-stakes ballet.

(Dream of love)

Their lead model—a woman so svelte and leggy she looked like she’d been stretched on a rack by a very talented sculptor—was currently playing the role of a barefoot goddess.

Clad in a long deep red dress that looked like a controlled blood spill, she stepped toward the edge of the terrace.

The wind, seemingly on the payroll, caught her blonde hair at the exact right moment.

She pulled a crystal bottle from the ether, spraying a mist of “Rêve d' Amour” with a look of such calculated seduction that Anna felt a phantom ache in her own jaw.

Across the terrace, a male model stood in the shadows, radiating “mysterious stranger” energy with his eyes narrowed in a look of simmering desire that was likely just him trying to remember if he’d left his stove on.

It's all smoke and mirrors. Anna thought, shifting her weight.

On the big screen, this will be thirty seconds of pure, unadulterated longing.

In reality, it’s four hours of re-spraying perfume until everyone’s eyes water and the director stops screaming about the integrity of the light.

She had been mesmerized by the sheer tedium of it all morning, a slow-motion car crash of glamour that was surprisingly addictive.

She was so deep in her mental critique of the lighting assistant’s hustle that she’d completely forgotten the rectangular weight of her phone sitting on the lounge chair next to her head.

“Anna? Hello? Did the Aegean swallow you whole, or are you just ghosting us for a tan?”

Olivia’s voice, tinny but sharp, jolted Anna back to the terrace. She blinked, the blue of the sky suddenly too bright.

“Sorry, Livi,” Anna murmured, reaching for the phone. “I'm here. I completely spaced out. What were you saying?”

“Oh, don't mind me!” Olivia’s voice spiked into a theatrical, faux-hysterical wail.

“I'm only baring my tattered soul to help me feel better about my miserable love life, and you’re busy watching paint dry—or models pose, whatever! My pain is just background noise to you!”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the speaker.

Camille’s laugh was a delicate, tinkling sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, while Lillian’s was a rich, grounded contrast.

Lillian had arrived at the mansion earlier that day with baby Lila in tow.

After a comedy of errors involving missed visits and Lillian’s sudden vacation, the Fairchilds had finally managed to ferry her and the three-month-old over for a long-overdue stay.

“Olivia, for the love of all that is holy, lighten up,” Lillian said, her voice warm with the practiced patience of a new mother.

“You're barely twenty-four. By the time you hit thirty, you’ll look back at this Victor-shaped crater in your heart and laugh at how much energy you wasted on a crush that had the shelf life of an open avocado. It's a rite of passage, we all spend a year or two being delightfully delusional over the wrong man.”

“That's the problem, Lili,” Olivia sighed, her voice dropping into a small, genuinely sad register.

“What if the delusion is actually a permanent condition? What if the feeling never actually fizzles? What if Victor is the only one I’ll ever want and I’m just destined to be the eccentric aunt who lives in a house full of disgruntled cats?”

“Oh, honey,” Camille said, her voice vibrating with warmth that seemed to wrap through the phone lines.

“The heart is a very resilient muscle, but it’s also a terrible geographer. Just because it’s settled on one person right now doesn’t mean it won't find a better destination later. You aren't a finished book, you're just stuck on a very frustrating chapter.”

Anna softened, her gaze drifting back to the shimmering sea. “Olivia, listen to me,” she said, her tone genuine.

“You are a force of nature. You're vibrant, you’re kind, and you have a heart that’s way too big for someone who doesn’t see your worth.

Don’t let one man’s silence become the soundtrack to your life. You deserve someone who looks at you the way that model is supposed to be looking at that perfume—like you're the only thing that matters.”

“I… I'll try,” Olivia promised, her voice regaining a sliver of its usual vivacity. “I'll do my best to cheer up. I hate being the wet blanket in the group chat anyway. It's bad for my skin.”

“That's the Olivia we know,” Camille cheered.

"Speaking of people who aren't here," Anna said, trying to shift the mood, "when are Brandon and Emilia getting back from Georgia?"

"Day after tomorrow," Olivia replied. "Emilia wanted to stop by and see some old friends on the way back. She’s probably trying to decompress after the trip."

Anna nodded to herself. Every year, without fail, the siblings traveled to visit their father’s grave on his birthday.

Ten years had passed, but for them, the ritual was sacred—a quiet, somber anchor in their otherwise chaotic lives.

Anna was about to ask about baby Lila when a sharp, piercing scream tore through the air, followed by a gargantuan splash.

She bolted upright. Down by the pool, the carefully choreographed advert had dissolved into chaos. Selene was thrashing in the water, her black dress billowing around her like a drowning jellyfish.

Jason was already leaning over the edge, straining to haul her out.

Fantastic. Now the idiot is trying to drown herself in my pool.

"Anna? What was that? Did something explode?" The girls' voices rose in a collective panic through the speaker.

"It looks like Selene just took an unplanned dip in the pool," Anna said, already standing up and slipping into her sandals. "I have to go see what happened. I’ll call you guys back."

She hung up before they could protest and hurried toward the cluster of frantic crew members.

As she approached, Selene was being hoisted onto the pool deck, dripping wet and shivering.

As she stood up, the water-heavy fabric of her blouse clung to her like a second skin. It was thin—dangerously thin—and bared her breasts with a blatant clarity that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Conveniently, she wasn't wearing a bra.

Of course. Anna thought, a cold wave of disgust rolling over her.

A 'slip' into the pool right when the cameras are rolling and the lighting is perfect. Her desperation is actually starting to smell worse than the chlorine.

Does she think this is a 90s music video?

Selene looked up, her eyes landing on Anna. She didn't look embarrassed; she looked predatory.

"Anna... I hate to ask," she said, her voice breathless and pitching for maximum vulnerability.

"But I am... soaking wet. The water is everywhere. Do you have a shirt or a dress I could borrow? I’m practically freezing out of my clothes."

She emphasized the words with a slow, suggestive shiver that made the fabric cling even tighter.

Anna met her gaze with a look of profound distrust. "Wait here," Anna said shortly. "I’ll find you something."

Anna turned and headed upstairs to the master suite, her heels clicking sharply on the marble.

She went straight to the walk-in closet, pulling out a thick, oversized sweater dress—something that would cover every inch of skin Selene was so keen on displaying.

As she turned to leave the closet, she jumped.

Selene was standing in the middle of the master bedroom, dripping water onto the expensive hardwood.

"I thought I asked you to wait downstairs," Anna said, her voice tight with irritation.

Selene didn't look at her.

She was busy surveying the room, her eyes lingering on the rumpled sheets of the massive bed.

"I got tired of waiting. And honestly, I’d hate for my crew to keep staring at my breasts. It’s so... distracting for them."

"Then you should have worn a more decent outfit," Anna snapped. "Leave the bedroom. Now."

Selene ignored her, walking further into the room with a slow, deliberate stride.

"So... this is where William sleeps when he’s here? It’s a bit... clinical, don't you think?"

"Are you deaf, or just remarkably thick?" Anna’s voice dropped into a dangerous, serious register. "Get out of my room."

With a daring, sharp-edged smile, Selene turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

Then, with a languid motion, she laid backward across the mattress, her wet hair splaying out over the pillows.

The sight sent a jolt of pure, white-hot rage through Anna.

She didn't scream. She didn't lunge. Instead, her eyes darted to the vanity.

Resting there was a pair of heavy, silver-handled fabric scissors.

Anna’s hand closed around the cold metal. She began to advance toward the bed, her voice eerily serene.

"I’m not going to warn you again, Selene. Leave. Now."

Selene sat up, her smirk wavering for only a second.

Anna swiftly and smartly tucked the scissors into the back pocket of her shorts, concealing them behind her back as she stopped a few feet from the bed.

"And what are you going to do if I refuse?" Selene challenged. She stood up, closing the distance until she was inches from Anna's face.

"Are you going to slap me again, Anna? Is that your only trick?"

"No," Anna said, her eyes boring into Selene’s. "I was thinking of something much more... permanent. You really shouldn't play with sharp objects, Selene. Someone might get cut out of the picture entirely."

Selene narrowed her eyes, the double meaning sailing right over her head.

She looked Anna up and down, her gaze landing on the soft, charcoal-grey button-down shirt Anna was wearing.

"I changed my mind," Selene said, pointing a damp finger at Anna’s chest. "I want that one. Give me your shirt."

Anna felt a laugh of pure disbelief bubble up. "Are you out of your mind? You want to pluck clothes off my body like a vulture on a carcass. No."

"Oh, don't be like that," Selene said with a mask of faux ignorance.

"It looks so much cozier than that rag you’re holding. Besides, you told me to take what I wanted. I want the shirt. Take it off and hand it over."

"I wouldn't give you this shirt if we were the last two people on earth and you were dying of pneumonia," Anna hissed. "I can't give it to you anyway. It isn't mine. It’s my husband’s."

Selene’s smile turned feral. "I know. That’s exactly why I want it. I suspected it was William’s the moment I saw the fit."

Anna let out an incredulous, jagged laugh.

"That’s a joke, right? You’ve officially crossed the line from pathetic to delusional. That is a really, really bad joke."

"I’m not joking," Selene whispered, leaning in. "I know firsthand how warm, how comfortable, and how delicious William’s clothes feel against my skin. It’s a very familiar sensation."

"Have you forgotten what happened at the Haven Hill fundraiser?" Anna asked, her voice trembling with the effort to keep her hands from reaching for the scissors in her pocket.

"I was trying to be the bigger person then. But now? My hand is itching to smack the taste of desperation out of your mouth again."

"Go ahead," Selene challenged, her voice a low hiss. "Make good on the threat. I’d love to let William know that his sweet, meek little wife is actually a violent psycho. I’m sure he’d find the transformation fascinating."

Anna exhaled, a long, shaky breath. She held out the sweater dress one last time. "Take the dress and get out of my room. This is your final exit ramp."

Selene didn't take it. Instead, she swung her hand in a sharp arc, smacking the dress out of Anna’s hand.

It flew across the room, landing in a crumpled heap in the far corner.

"I don't want your charity rags," Selene spat, her voice haughty and venomous.

"What makes you think I’d ever put something on my body that has touched your rotten, parasitic skin? You’re a placeholder, Anna. A boring, temporary little fly in the ointment."

Anna’s face went stone-cold. "I don't want trouble, Selene. Get. Out."

"But I live for trouble," Selene mocked, stepping toward her. "Make me leave. I’d love to see you try, you little—"

Anna had had enough.

The adrenaline was screaming in her ears, and the weight of the scissors in her pocket felt like a direct command.

She turned her back on Selene, walking toward the door to fling it open and call for security.

She never made it.

Suddenly, a hand tangled in Anna’s hair with a violent, jarring force. A scream tore from Anna’s throat as she was jerked backward.

Before she could find her footing, Selene surged forward, slamming Anna’s head into the bedroom wall with a sickening thud.

The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of white light and searing pain.

Anna’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor, the cold marble rushing up to meet her.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room fraying into darkness.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Selene’s voice—cold, triumphant, and dripping with malice.

"My turn to get back at you, bitch."