Chapter 2 - THE MISTRESS’S MISTAKEUpstairs, the party continued. Gwendolyn Fairchild sat at the head of our dining table, wearing my jewelry, pretending to comfort Russell. She was the one who had orchestrated the "torn dress" incident, knowing perfectly well that Russell’s obsession with her "heroic" act in Aspen made him blind to her malice.
She walked down to the basement door, holding a plate of leftover birthday cake. She unlocked the heavy steel bolt, looking down at us with a sneer. "You know, Heather, you really shouldn't have made him so angry. He’s a sensitive man. I’m just trying to help him find some peace."
I didn't cower. I stood up, bloodstained and trembling, my eyes locked on hers. "You think you’ve won, Gwendolyn? You think this basement is the end of me? You’ve just walked into the center of a trap you aren't smart enough to see."
