Chapter 53
Vera POV
I rushed to the living room, the perfect picture of concern painted across my face. Mom was there, pale and trembling, practically melting into the leather sofa. Poor thing. All this drama was clearly too much for her delicate sensibilities.
"Mom," I said softly, kneeling beside her and taking her hand in mine. "You shouldn't worry so much. This will all blow over soon."
Irene Parker - the woman who had raised me as her own - looked at me with exhausted eyes. "I'm tired, Vera. So tired of all this."
"Let me help you upstairs to rest," I offered, my voice dripping with daughterly concern. "Dad and the lawyers will handle everything."
She nodded weakly and allowed me to guide her to her feet. As I supported her up the grand staircase, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Watching her fret over Anna was honestly hilarious. The show was just beginning, and she had no idea who was pulling the strings.
"Lean on me," I encouraged as we reached the landing. "That's it."
I escorted her to her bedroom, the one she'd shared with Dad for over twenty years. The one where family portraits lined the walls - mostly featuring me at the center, with Anna noticeably pushed to the edges when she appeared at all. Just as it should be.
"Here we are." I helped her sit on the edge of her bed and busied myself getting her a glass of water and her sleeping pills. "Take these. You'll feel better after some rest."
She swallowed the pills gratefully. "Vera, you're such a good girl. Not like Anna..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with disappointment.
"Don't think about unpleasant things now," I soothed, arranging the pillows behind her. "Just rest."
I waited until her breathing steadied before slipping out and closing her door quietly. The moment I was alone in the hallway, the smile dropped from my face like a discarded mask. I walked briskly to my own room and locked the door behind me.
Did she honestly think I cared about her feelings? All I cared about was whether Anna was experiencing the hell I'd carefully designed for her. Based on what I'd seen downstairs - the red mark on her cheek, the cut on her arm, the devastation in her eyes - my plan was working beautifully.
I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my king-sized bed, still made up with the same pink silk sheets I'd chosen when I was sixteen. The room remained exactly as I liked it, even though I now had my own place. Unlike Anna, who'd never had a proper room here at all.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. "Unknown Caller" flashed across the screen. I knew exactly who it was.
"What?" I answered, keeping my voice low.
"I did what you said," George Wilson's rough voice grated in my ear. "She admitted it herself. Everyone heard. You owe me money!"
I grimaced with distaste. "Lower your voice, Wilson. Do you think what you did tonight was something to be proud of?"
"My money," he demanded, ignoring my comment. The greed in his voice was palpable. "Two grand wasn't enough for what I did."
I rolled my eyes. "The twenty thousand will be in your account tomorrow morning, as promised. Not a penny less." I examined my perfectly manicured nails. "But remember our agreement. You've never met me. You don't call this number again. Are we clear?"
"Crystal clear, princess," he sneered. "But if you need my services again—"
"I won't," I cut him off sharply. "Goodbye, Mr. Wilson."
I ended the call and tossed the phone aside, suddenly feeling the need to wash my hands. Men like George Wilson made my skin crawl, but sometimes you needed vermin to do the dirty work. Anna had made this necessary. She'd taken everything that should have been mine.
Lying back against my pillows, I found myself thinking about the conversation I'd overheard a few days ago. I'd been walking past my parents' bedroom when Irene's anxious voice caught my attention.
"Richard, do you know what day it is coming up?" she'd asked.
"No, what?" Dad had replied, distracted as usual.
"Anna's foster father—that man who tried to rape her—he's being released from prison."
I'd frozen in the hallway, hardly daring to breathe.
"If he comes looking for us, what then?" Irene had continued, her voice tight with worry.
Dad had dismissed her concerns. "What can a man who's spent eight years in prison possibly do to us?"
"What if he finds Anna?" Irene had pressed.
"Since when do you care about Anna?" Dad had asked, his tone suspicious. "I thought Vera was the only one you worried about."
There had been a pause before Irene replied, her voice softer now. "Anna may not be close to me, but she's still my flesh and blood. I can't pretend she doesn't exist..."
Those words had sent rage coursing through me. How dare she? After all these years of treating me like her true daughter, suddenly she was worried about Anna? The girl who'd been missing for eleven years, who'd returned only to ruin everything? Who'd stolen Edward from me?
It had taken less than an hour to find news reports about the trial eight years ago. George Wilson, sentenced to eight years for aggravated assault against Helen Wilson, who remained in a persistent vegetative state. The articles carefully danced around what he'd tried to do to his foster daughter, the unnamed minor who'd been placed with the Parkers shortly thereafter.
Finding George had been surprisingly easy with the help of a private investigator. He'd been out for just three days when I approached him outside the halfway house, offering him a deal he couldn't refuse.
"Twenty thousand dollars," I'd said, keeping my distance as we stood in a deserted park. "All you have to do is help me with Anna Parker."
His eyes had lit up with greedy recognition. "That stuck-up little bitch? I was planning to find her anyway. Getting paid for it is just a bonus."
I'd outlined exactly what I wanted him to do. Start with phone calls. Let her know he was out. Make her nervous. Then I'd tell him where she would be, and he'd make a public scene. Something big enough to humiliate her, to expose her past to everyone who mattered.
Tonight had been perfect. I'd convinced Michael's assistant to tell me which restaurant they'd be at. One text to George with the time and place, and the rest played out exactly as I'd hoped. From what I'd heard, Anna had completely fallen apart in front of Michael Johnson. The videos were probably already circulating.
I hugged my limited-edition teddy bear to my chest, the one Edward had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I stroked its soft fur, imagining it was Anna's face.
"Did you think you could be happy?" I whispered to it. "Did you really think you could take everything that should have been mine and just get away with it?"
I squeezed the bear tighter, my nails digging into its plush body. "This is just the beginning, dear 'sister.' I'm going to destroy you completely."
My gaze drifted to the family portrait on my nightstand - me standing between Richard and Irene, all of us smiling, with Anna awkwardly positioned at the edge, clearly an afterthought. That's how it should always have been.
"You took the Parker name from me. You took Edward's engagement. Now you think you can have Michael Johnson too?" I laughed softly. "Not while I'm still breathing."
I set the bear aside and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness broken only by the city lights filtering through my curtains.
"Goodnight, Anna," I whispered into the darkness. "Our game has only just begun."