The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat; Or, the Stormy Cruise of the Red Rover
The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat; Or, the Stormy Cruise of the Red Rover by Janet Aldridge
The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat; Or, the Stormy Cruise of the Red Rover by Janet Aldridge
"I wouldn't advise you young ladies to take the boat out."
Miss Elting instantly recalled the message from her brother. The telegram was in her pocket at that moment, "If you have any trouble, Dee Dickinson will see that you are protected," read the message. It was Dee Dickinson who had spoken to her that moment.
Dee had made a distinctly unfavorable impression on Miss Elting, the guardian and companion of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Her brother's fishing boat had been left in the care of this man by her brother Bert, who had now turned it over to his sister and the Meadow-Brook Girls for their summer vacation.
"Why not?" questioned the young woman in answer to his words of warning. "Isn't the boat in good condition?"
"Oh, yes. That is, it isn't by any means in a sinking condition."
"Then why do you advise us not to use it?"
"The lake gets rather rough at times, you know," he replied evasively.
"My brother wrote you that we were coming up here, did he not?"
"Oh, yes. But you see it's been a year since he used the old scow. She is a year older, now, and-"
"I am quite sure that my brother would not have permitted us to take the houseboat were it not perfectly safe for us to do so. Please tell me what is the matter with it?"
"There's nothing the matter with it, I tell you, except that it's an old fishing scow with a roof over it. It isn't a fit place for a party of young ladies," Dee replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Of course, if you are set on taking the boat, I'll have to get it ready for you; but, if anything happens to it, remember that I warned you."
"We shall not forget," answered the guardian dryly. "If it stays on top of the lake we surely cannot expect anything more. Where is the boat?"
"A couple of miles down the lake."
"Kindly direct us so that we may find it, and-"
"No, no," interposed Dickinson hastily. "I'll have it brought up here to the dock, so you can get at it more easily. There'll be some things you will wish to do to it. Having it here at Wantagh will be much more convenient for you. I'll try to have it here for you by to-night, or early in the morning. But you'll be sick of your bargain, I promise you that."
"Do you mean us to infer that the boat is not safe?" interjected Harriet Burrell.
"I haven't said so," answered the man rather sharply, turning to her. "I've told you that it isn't the kind of craft for young women to live on all summer."
"We shall decide that matter ourselves," returned Miss Elting coldly.
"Very good. Suit yourselves."
"I think you had better take us to the boat now before anything further is done in the matter."
"No. You had better have it brought here," persisted Dickinson. "Do you know where Johnson's dock is?"
The guardian hesitated. She was regarding the man with some suspicion.
"It's at the foot of the second street beyond, down that way. I'll have the boat down there in a couple of hours. I've got to get a motor boat, or something of the sort to tow it down. It probably will leak some, not having been in the water this season until yesterday. You had better go over to the hotel and get your dinner. I'll come up and let you know when the scow is ready. Go right over and make yourself at home. I'll do the best I can. Bert's an old friend of mine."
Dickinson hurried away, without further words. The girls looked at each other and laughed.
"Well, if Dee Dickinson is a friend of your brother, I must say I don't admire your brother's friends," declared Harriet.
"That ith what I thay," agreed Grace Thompson.
"Tommy, you shouldn't have said that," reproved Hazel Holland.
"She didn't. Harriet said it," retorted Margery.
"Buster is right," laughed Jane McCarthy. "Come on, girls! Let's go to dinner, as the shifty-eyed gentleman advised. I hope it is dinner. I never could get used to luncheon in the middle of the day when Nature intended that a girl should have a full meal of the real food. Where is the old hotel?"
"I don't know, Jane. There is something strange about this affair. I am sure that Bert must have known what he was about, or he wouldn't have sent me the message he did. However, we shall see. There is no need to borrow trouble. We shall know how to deal with it when we meet it face to face. Let's go and look for this hotel that our friend, Mr. Dee, has recommended."
Getting into the automobile Jane started her car, and they drove through the town in search of the hotel, which they found after a few inquiries. The prosperous village of Wantagh was located on the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. It was there that Miss Elting's brother had begun to practice law, but after one year's practice in the little village had listened to the call of the West. He had left in Wantagh the old scow, dignified by the name of "houseboat" to which was attached the further title of "Red Rover." It was in this lumbering craft that Miss Elting and her young friends, the Meadow-Brook Girls, had planned to spend part of their summer vacation. Their meeting with Dickinson, in whose care the boat had been left, was quite discouraging. Dee was not a prepossessing fellow; what impressed them most unfavorably about him was his shifty eyes. He seldom permitted himself to meet the gaze of the person with whom he was talking.
Some inquiry, after reaching the hotel, developed the fact that Dee Dickinson was a notary, did a little real estate business, and drew a few papers for his neighbors, thus managing to eke out a precarious living. So far as the girls were able to find out, Dickinson's character was above reproach. Miss Elting chided herself for having formed a wrong opinion of the man. Still she could not overcome her irritation at his evident reluctance in getting the boat ready.
It was quite late in the afternoon when Dee appeared at the hotel, red of face, his clothes soiled and wet.
"Well, we got the old thing," was his greeting.
"Is the boat here?" inquired the guardian coldly.
"Yes, Miss Elting. It's down at Johnson's dock this very minute. You can go down there and look at it. I've got some business to-"
"Please go with us. There will be things about it which we shall wish to ask you. Does the boat leak much?"
He shook his head.
"It's all right," he said. "I can't spare the time to go to-day."
"If I might venture to offer to pay you for your trouble," suggested the guardian, not certain whether he would resent her offer of money. Dickinson, however, was not easily insulted.
"Of course, if-if you wish, I-yes, of course," he mumbled.
Miss Elting handed him two dollars. Dickinson led the way down to the dock, though without enthusiasm.
"There's the tub," he said, pointing toward what appeared, at first glance, to be a huge box. "That is it."
The girls walked out on the dock and stood gazing at the boat. In the first place, the "Red Rover" was not red at all. It had once had a prime coat of yellow paint, but this had succumbed to storm and sunshine. The windows had been boarded up; and the exterior of the craft bore out all that Dee Dickinson had said of it.
"Thirty feet on the water line," explained the man, for want of something better to say.
The boat, originally, had been a scow used for the purpose of towing the effects of summer residents of the island across the lake. Bert Elting had bought it for a small sum of money, and had built the house over it. He and a friend, had spent many days and nights aboard, anchored out on the fishing grounds. When they desired to change their location a launch usually could be found to tow them about.
At each end of the house there was a cockpit some three feet long. In other words the house did not extend the full length of the boat. At the rear there was a long-handed tiller. The boat was flat as a floor.
"If the inside is as handsome as the outside, we shall have the nightmare all the time," declared Margery.
"We had better look at the inside," reflected Miss Elting.
There were doors at each end. The girls entered by the rear door.
"Mercy!" exclaimed the guardian. "How warm it is in here. Mr. Dickinson, is there any glass in those windows?"
Dickinson shook his head.
"Then please knock out the boards."
Harriet already was doing this. She succeeded in ripping off a few planks, letting in the fresh air and sunlight. What they saw then did not please them. The floor was covered with rubbish. There was food scattered about, the walls were greasy. At one side stood an old stove, red with rust, its pipe dented in, and the ashes heaped high on the floor where the last occupant had left them.
Harriet stepped over by the stove to get a different perspective of the interior of the old craft. She rested one hand on the stove, but withdrew it quickly. She seemed about to say something, then abruptly checked her speech.
"Girls," said Miss Elting, "I don't know whether we shall be able to do anything with this boat or not. What do you think?"
"Of course we shall," answered Harriet promptly. "A good scrubbing and a little fixing up will make a delightful summer home of it."
"This is my treat, you know," interjected Jane. "That is, you know Miss Elting was to furnish the boat and I was to do all the rest."
"Oh, no! We couldn't permit you to do that," answered the guardian.
"A bargain's a bargain," declared Jane. "I'll get the paint. You folks, in the meantime, look the place over and see what else you need. I'll go back to the village for the things you decide on when we get ready for them."
"What color shall we paint the boat?" questioned Miss Elting.
"Red, of course," cried Harriet. "Surely, you wouldn't paint a 'Red Rover' green, would you?"
"I think we had better paint the inside of the boat white," advised Miss Elting.
"Then white it shall be," declared Jane. "Mr. Dickinson, you come with me and show me where to get the paint. I'm off, girls. I think we'd better stay at the hotel to-night. Our palatial yacht won't be ready for us."
Jane hurried out, followed by Dickinson. He was eager to get away. While she was gone the girls consulted with Miss Elting as to what was necessary to be done to the boat. They were full of enthusiasm despite the discouraging condition in which they had found the "Red Rover," for the possibilities of making it a delightful home, were plain to all of them.
Jane McCarthy came racing back with her car, three quarters of an hour later. Two men were in the car with her who wore overalls and small round caps.
"Here are the painters who are going to make the outside of the boat look pretty," cried the girl. "Now, men, get to work and do your best! If you do a good job you get your money. If you don't, you get a ducking in the pond! Here, girls, help me unload this stuff."
There were cans of paint, a mop, two brooms, tin and wooden pails, scrub brushes, soap and a miscellaneous assortment of useful articles.
"Now, girls, let's get to work," cried Jane. "This is our busy day. There'll be another man down here with some windows, soon. We've got to have some hot water. Harriet, can you heat it?"
For answer Harriet hurried along the beach, picking up such dry sticks as she could find. She soon had a fire started in the stove.
"We must stand by the fire with pails of water. I haven't much confidence in that stovepipe," she exclaimed laughingly. "However, we have plenty of water near, in case of need."
Tommy had gotten a broom and a dustpan and was already raising a cloud of dust by her efforts at sweeping.
"For goodness' sake, sprinkle the floor before you sweep," begged Margery chokingly. Hazel dipped up a pail of water from the lake and sprinkled it through her fingers over the floor of the boat. All the others save Harriet had fled, driven out by the choking dust. The sweeping was now attended with more comfort. Dustpan after dustpan full of dirt was gathered up and tossed into the lake. Tommy surveyed her work with a frowning face.
"It lookth worthe than it did before," she declared. "Thee the greathe thpotth. What fine houthekeeping."
"Men are lazy housekeepers," laughed Miss Elting. "I shall have to write to Bert and tell him what we think of his housekeeping."
As soon as the water was heated, Jane produced some full length gingham aprons, which she tossed to her companions. Arrayed in these, the girls took up scrub brushes and soap and got to work on the inside of the cabin. Their skirts were pinned up, their sleeves rolled back to the shoulders and they looked like veritable scrub women.
"Let's all work on the same side of the boat," called Jane. "I want one side to get dry so we can begin to paint it." The slap, slap of the painters' brushes already was heard on the outside. The remaining boards over the windows had been torn off and carefully laid aside for other uses.
Two hours later Jane got the painters to open the cans of white paint and stir up the contents. The men put in plenty of drier so the paint would dry quickly and began their work. Tommy could not resist trying to paint too. Seizing a brush she began laying about her, sending the paint into her hair, over her clothes and spattering her companions until they threatened to throw her overboard if she did not desist. Tommy's impish face already was decorated with polka dots of white paint.
"I would suggest that Tommy go out and use some red paint," said Harriet laughingly. "Some red dots would make you look perfectly lovely, dear."
"Yes and some blue," added Jane. "She'd be red, white and blue then, and we could hang her over the stern. That would save getting a flag."
"Girls, what are we going to do with the ceiling!" asked Miss Elting, regarding it with wrinkled forehead.
"We might paint in white between the beams, covering the beams themselves with green," suggested Harriet.
"That would be pretty," agreed the guardian, tilting her head to one side and regarding the ceiling reflectively. "Yes, it would be very artistic. Have we any green paint?"
"We'll have some," answered Jane promptly. "What shade?"
"Grath green," suggested Tommy.
"Olive," suggested Hazel.
Miss Elting nodded. Olive green paint would look well for the ceiling, she decided. Already the interior of the houseboat was beginning to brighten. But they saw that, to do a thoroughly good job, at least two coats of paint would be necessary. They hoped to get one coat of paint on before night, putting on the finishing coat on the following morning.
The slap, slap of the brushes outside had ceased and the men were heard talking. Jane rushed out brandishing her paint brush.
"Get to work, you lazy bones!" she shouted. "Am I paying you for holding conversations about red paint! On with your work!"
Jane presented such a ferocious appearance that the painters resumed their work hurriedly. There was no more lagging on their part. Jane frequently ran out to see what they were doing. The result was that the "Red Rover" was painted in record time, both outside and in, and a coat of paint laid on the top of the house. Jane McCarthy had an idea in regard to this roof. The next morning she put the plan into execution.
That night the girls were so tired that they gave no thought to their appearance until they had reached their rooms at the hotel and looked into their mirrors. Their paint-streaked countenances were a sight to behold and Tommy carried a part of her facial decorations to bed with her.
They were up early on the following morning, and were first in the dining room at breakfast.
"I just can't wait until I get to work," declared Jane McCarthy, her eyes shining.
"I can wait until I've eaten my breakfast," replied Margery, then flushed as Tommy giggled meaningly.
Readers of the first volume of this series, "The Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas" will recall the many exciting adventures that befell the five girls and their guardian, Miss Elting, while summering at Camp Wau-Wau, a part of the Camp Girls' organization. The attempts of two mischief-making camp girls to disgrace Harriet in the eyes of the camp, Harriet's brave rescue of her enemies during a severe storm and her generous method of dealing with them aroused the interest and admiration of the reader. The various ludicrous happenings in which Grace Thompson and Jane McCarthy figured prominently also added to this absorbing narrative of outdoor life.
"The Meadow-Brook Girls Across Country" relates the adventures of the girls and their guardian on their homeward march from Camp Wau-Wau. Their meeting with a number of boys on a hike, who styled themselves the Tramp Club, and the subsequent wager made with them by the Meadow-Brook Girls to race them to the town of Meadow-Brook, furnished the theme for the narrative. While following the fortunes of the road the girls met with numerous adventures. The reader will recall their encounter with the tramps, their rescue by Sybarina, the Gipsy, and the night spent in the Gipsy camp where Harriet, disguised as a Gipsy, told the fortune of George Baker the leader of the Tramp Club, and at the same time under the pretense of revealing his past rated him soundly for a trick which he and his band had played upon the girls.
Once back in Meadow-Brook the girls had settled down to a busy winter in high school. Now that summer had come again, accompanied by Miss Elting, they had planned to spend their vacation on Lake Winnipesaukee, aboard a houseboat owned by Miss Elting's brother.
The "Red Rover" in its coat of bright new paint looked really fine that morning. As the girls neared it the odor of fresh paint was borne to their nostrils on the breeze that drifted in from the lake. Full of enthusiasm the girls hurried aboard the boat. There was much to be done, and all were eager to settle their home and to begin the fascinating life that was before them, a life that not one of the girls had ever before enjoyed. The painters came soon after, and began putting on the second coat of paint. The girls, as soon as they had donned aprons and gloves, started to put on the second coat in the interior of the boat. The windows were on hand, ready to be set in place and everyone went to work with a will.
So rapidly did the girls and Jane's painters work that, by noon, the work, both inside and out, had been completed, including a coat of paint on the floor. The painters were paid off by Jane and dismissed. Jane stepped out on the pier to survey the work.
"Girls, we've forgotten something," she cried. "We must have the name on the side of the boat. The 'Red Rover' you know? I forgot that when the men were here. Can any of you print?"
"I think perhaps I might do it," answered Miss Elting. "But we shall have to wait until the red paint dries. Suppose we sit down and rest for an hour or so?"
"Rest!" shouted Crazy Jane. "There's no rest for the Meadow-Brook Girls. It's work and trouble and trouble and work all day and all night. Girls, we've got to have a new stove, and we must have a lot of other things, including some curtains and home comforts. Can you help me load the old stove into the car?"
"Not without breaking it, I'm afraid," answered Miss Elting laughingly.
"Then get the axe. We'll smash the old thing. Hey there, you man," Jane shouted at a passing farmer. "Want to earn fifty cents? Well, get busy here, and help us move the stove."
With the aid of the farmer they took down the old wood stove and loaded it into the automobile. Next they made a hurried toilet and drove into the village. Most of the afternoon was spent in making purchases. All the bedding had been shipped by freight, as had the folding cots, the cooking utensils and their tent. Harriet proposed that they make the tent into an awning over the upper deck. She thought it would be a pleasant place to sit in the evenings. Her companions agreed with her. This necessitated calling in a carpenter. He was sent out to the boat to do the work while they were finishing their shopping.
Among the purchases was an oil stove-Jane had sold the old one-a large quantity of canned goods, potatoes and other vegetables, all of which they planned to stow in the front of the houseboat under oilcloth. Here also was stowed a huge sea chest that had belonged to Jane's great-grandfather. It was supposed to be water-tight and in this the Meadow-Brook Girls decided to place all their extra clothing. A rag carpet was found that answered very well to cut up into rugs to lay on the floor. The carpenter made a ladder by which to climb to the upper deck. Then there was rope and an anchor, the latter a piece of an old mowing machine; a rowboat, which Jane rented, and heavy green shades at the windows so that they should have greater seclusion; also a cask to hold drinking water.
When the girls finished their work that night Crazy Jane McCarthy had spent quite a sum of money, but the equipment for the "Red Rover" was as nearly complete as they were able to make it. Just before sunset they went out to watch Miss Elting paint the name on the side of the boat. In large, neat letters she painted the name in white. The letters stood out in bold relief against the brilliant red of the boat.
"I propose three cheers for the artist," cried Harriet.
"Wait a minute," called Tommy.
"Well, what is it?" demanded Margery.
"The job ith not finithhed yet. Mith Elting hathn't painted the name on the other thide."
"That is true, but to do so I should have to stand in the water," laughed the guardian.
"If you must paint the other side, of course we can turn the boat around," said Harriet. "I think a name on one side will answer our purpose for the present. Later on we can finish the job, if we think best."
"Yes," agreed Jane. "We've done enough for the present. Don't forget that we've got to settle the house in the morning. I want you all to think hard to-night, to see if we have forgotten anything."
"The only thing we have forgotten is our dinner. We haven't had a bite to eat since morning," Margery Brown reminded her friends.
"Margery can't think of anything but thomething to eat," laughed Tommy. "You mutht learn to eat atmothphere when you're hungry. That ith the way I do."
"I fear you will never grow fat on that sort of diet," laughed the guardian.
"I don't want to get fat, like Buthter," replied Tommy scornfully.
In the meantime Harriet and Jane had drawn away from the others and were engaged in a whispered conversation. Then the two girls got into the rowboat dragged the houseboat out into the lake, a few rods, and anchored it. They did not explain their action. The other girls laughed at them, and Miss Elting questioned them with her eyes but said nothing. She knew the two girls had some good reason for anchoring the "Red Rover" a little distance from the shore.
Early on the following morning, Jane and Harriet were out, loading the automobile with the supplies that had been delivered at the hotel the previous night. The car was piled high with bundles of various shapes and sizes. There was room for Jane and Harriet in front, but none for their companions elsewhere.
"We will go down to the dock with the stuff," explained Harriet, "then come back in time to take breakfast with you girls. We shan't try to put the supplies on board. We'll just dump them on the pier."
"You can put them on the boat if you want to. I don't care," answered Grace.
"Tommy is trying to get out of working to-day," scoffed Margery.
"I'm not," protested the little lisping girl indignantly. "If I were ath fat ath you, I might. I'll work after breakfatht, but I won't work before breakfatht."
"Nobody wants you to," flung back Jane, as she started her car ahead. "We'll do all the before-breakfast work, and we'll have the real appetites when we get to the food. You watch us."
They watched her skid around a sharp corner and heard her car for some few moments thereafter, but that was all. They were too well used to Crazy Jane McCarthy, by this time, to be surprised at anything she might do or say.
The drive to Johnson's dock was a short one. The two girls made it in a few moments. As they turned into the street that led down to the river they opened their eyes a little wider, but neither spoke. Nor was there a word said until they had driven out on the pier and halted the car. Then both girls burst out in exclamations of amazement at the same instant.
That which they discovered filled the hearts of the Meadow-Brook Girls with alarm. The "Red Rover" was nowhere in sight. The shore end of the rope, with which it had been secured to the dock when they anchored it out in the lake, was still securely tied to the string piece at the outer side of the dock.
"What is it, darlin'?" questioned Jane, with eyes wide and wondering.
"It looks to me very much as though our 'Red Rover' were at the bottom of the lake, Jane. Oh, what shall we do if she has sunk? Something has been going on here. Something occurred the first day we were here, to excite my suspicion. And now this strange thing has happened. There's the rowboat. Let's go out and look around. Oh, this is too bad, too bad!"
* * *
The Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas; Or, Fun and Frolic in the Summer Camp by Janet Aldridge
The Meadow-Brook Girls by the Sea; Or, The Loss of The Lonesome Bar by Janet Aldridge
The Meadow-Brook Girls on the Tennis Courts; Or, Winning Out in the Big Tournament by Janet Aldridge
"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."
I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.
I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.
Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.
Clara had to die once to see who truly surrounded her-traitors and opportunists everywhere. After her rebirth, she swore to make her enemies pay. Her fiancé mocked, "You think you deserve me?" She punched him and ended the engagement. Her stepsister played innocent, but Clara shut her down with a cold retort. "Stop pretending! I'm tired of your little act!" They called her a loser, but Clara didn't bother defending herself. Instead, she revealed her real power: superstar, racing champion, and secret mogul. When her masks fell, chaos erupted. Her ex begged, and the crime lord claimed her, but Clara had already conquered them all.
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
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