Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,5

office. Only, when I reach the top of the stairs, I don’t turn right. I turn left, finding myself floating toward Alexis’ old set of rooms.

I step into the nursery and flick on the lights. The maids have tidied, but otherwise everything is just as Alexis left it. The star-and-moon mobile hangs over the white wooden crib, a selection of Harry’s favorite toys sit waiting on the shelves, and as I step further inside, I can even smell her faint, flowery perfume.

I remember standing at the open door one night and watching as Alexis hovered over the crib and read to Harry. Her soft, measured voice wove a gentle story that made even my eyes heavy. She wore a pink silk dressing gown that grazed her tanned thighs, and as she bent over the crib, her dark curly hair trailed down from her cheeks like spools of silk.

I walked into the room, footsteps light on the carpet, and wrapped my arms around her. She sighed and leaned against me, her head falling back against my shoulder. Her warm body fit perfectly in my arms, and I bent down to inhale the scent of honeysuckle and soap from her skin.

It was moments like those where I nearly fell in love with her, fool that I was. I thought she was falling in love with me, too, but looking back, I wonder if any of my memories of her affection were genuine, or if it was all a ploy to get behind my defenses.

How many locked doors did she go poking behind while she stayed here, searching for journalistic fodder? I know at least one time she stole the office key from around my neck while I was sleeping. I shudder to think how many other occasions she manipulated my emotions. I rescued her from Andrew Walsh, and the second she had the opportunity, she took my son and ran.

I have spent years resenting my father, blaming the family’s struggles on his blind adoration for a woman who abused him for her own devices. Felicity Huffman was the serpent whispering from the grass underfoot, urging him to make foolish plays for power. He listened to her but would not listen to his own son. It was disgusting.

And then I went and fell into the same trap.

I leave the nursery, trying to shake the thoughts of Alexis from my head. Despite everything, I still miss her. I miss the sound of her laugh, miss the way she snuggled against me in the night. I miss her talking back to me like nobody else in my life would ever dare to.

I step inside my office and close the door against Alexis and everything she represents. I need to work.

3

Alexis

Another day, another sleazy motel.

I decided to play it a little risky this time, setting up camp in Newark after our brief stint in Philly. It’s close enough to the city for Gabriel to toss a rock at me, but hopefully because of that, it is also one of the last places he will look.

I flick on the TV, surfing the channels while Harry sits between my legs on the bed, chewing on a plastic set of keys.

In the movies, when people are on the run, it always looks exciting. Eating Chinese food while bathed in the flickering light of the television, glancing furtively around every corner, rotating through a handful of crafty disguises.

In reality, it’s boring as hell.

I spend most of my days inside, playing with Harry, doing yoga while trying not to think about the stains on the carpet, watching mindless daytime TV, and practicing catching cheese puffs in my mouth. I feel like my brain is starting to rot from lack of use.

I’m also starting to worry about Harry. Normally, he’s full of laughter and loves nothing more than to make a mess and cuddle with his mom. Over the past week or so, though, I have started to notice a change in him, as though an internal light is dimming.

It scares me.

I land on the news, where a banner at the bottom announces that New York City is in crisis. Relaxing back against the pillows, I pluck the half-eaten bag of Doritos from the bedside table and toss a couple into my mouth as I watch.

A well-groomed news reporter with a strawberry-blonde bob and peach lipstick is delivering a report on something called purple heroin. I’ve seen mentions of the drug here and there over the past couple of weeks, but I