Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,69

can do it again.

Just like me.

I don’t remember when we became this way. It just happened. Over the course of the years, our decisions shaped us into the people we are now. But why did we let this happen? Couldn’t we see the consequences? Or were we too blinded by hatred?

I push the thoughts away, but they keep drifting back into my mind. I can’t allow myself to think about the what-ifs and could have beens. I should focus on the here and now, but it’s hard, knowing our history.

Somehow, a little part of me still thinks she can change the inevitable. That she can change herself. And him.

But it’s all futile, and I, more than anyone, should know that feeling for people never leads to anything good.

With this collar around my neck, he reminds me every day of his hold over me. This isn’t the first collar I’ve worn, even though it is the first that’s around my neck. There’s another who’s claimed me as his own before. Not my heart. Not my love. He had my life in his hands as he twisted the little ring around my finger.

It meant the end of Vanessa, the girl who lived for love, and the beginning of the girl who lived for vengeance.

***

Age 19

My body quakes with every step I take. Each one is another toward a destiny I cannot escape … a destiny that will slowly peel the goodness out of my soul.

I had only one choice.

Sacrifice my happiness … or sacrifice his life.

I couldn’t choose heartbreak, so I chose ruin instead.

In a white laced dress covered with crystals and with a necklace made of diamonds, I open the door of my chambers and step out into the hallway. There is no one there except Arthur, Phillip’s brother, waiting for me. My father is already at the entrance to the aisle, but I don’t dare go there yet.

I glance at Arthur. He smiles and briefly looks up and down my dress. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling a little, but it can’t hide the growing sadness inside me. The closer I get, the more desperate I become to escape from this world for just a moment.

He steps forward and grabs my hand when I stumble. “Careful there.”

“I’m sorry; I’m so clumsy.”

“No need to apologize.” He muffles a laugh, and it sounds genuine, something I haven’t heard in a long while. He cocks his head. “Are you okay?”

I sigh and look at him. “That depends on what you want to hear.”

“I want to hear the truth.”

“Hmm …” I nod. “You’re not like your family.”

“So they say,” he says.

His eyes take me in completely, blinking a couple of times while gazing at me without holding back. Like he’s checking me out, even though he knows he’s not supposed to.

It’s not the first time this has happened, and I’m sure now that we’ll become in-laws, it won’t be the last time.

I clear my throat. “But to answer your question, no. Not at all.”

He frowns. “Is it the dress?”

“No.” I look down at the floor.

“Then what?” He tries to look at me, but I turn my head away.

I don’t want him to see the water in my eyes. I push the tears away immediately. I can’t let anyone see them. Especially my mother. Weakness to her means an opportunity to strike, and I can’t give her that chance.

“I’m fine,” I say, and I try to walk ahead, but he’s still holding my hand.

“You’re not. I can tell.”

“Oh, really?” I jest.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he muses.

“Not yet,” I say. “But I’ll soon be. Just like all of them.”

“You don’t have to be.”

The change in his voice makes me stop and think. I glance over my shoulder at him. “Why’d you say that?”

“You can still choose not to marry him.”

I frown. “How? I don’t have a choice. They’ll kill my … me.”

He steps closer and grabs both my hands. “I know you don’t want this.”

The way he holds me, so carefully, gently, like he wants me to be safe … it instills some sort of need in me that overwhelms me. It makes me want to hug him and confide in him, even though I barely know him. Phillip used to tell me how his brother always wanted what he couldn’t have … but to me, he’s always so nice.

I can hardly believe they’re family.

I take a deep breath, which is hard in this tight dress. “What other choice do I have?”

“Your mother