DELILAH'S POV
"I'm coming with you before you screw things up even further," I snapped. "Get your pitiful self off the floor and take me there!" The maid scrambled up, muttering a shaky, "Yes, ma'am,".
I climbed the stairs two at a time. What if the imposter had charmed him? What if Eric Blackwood was already under her spell? I shook my head hard enough to make my earrings jingle. No. Impossible. No one could replace me. Not me.
The maid hobbled ahead, trying to match my pace. "Will you move your stupid legs faster!" I barked. My irritation was at the entire situation. At the cruel absurdity of spending a sleepless night preparing to meet the infamous Eric Blackwood, only to discover that some fraud had gotten to him first.
I stopped at the landing, while the maid proceeded further down the corridor. She finally stopped near the end of the hall, fumbled in her pocket, pulled out a small key.
She inserted the key with trembling fingers, and the door clicked open. The maid poked her head through the crack. She made a few hand gestures, frantic little signals as if she was trying to coax a stray animal out of hiding.
And then she appeared.
At first, I thought it was a joke. A cruel, elaborate joke. Because the girl who stepped out of that room was… pathetic. There's really no other word. That dress—oh, saints preserve me—some washed-out cotton thing that hung off her shoulder like it had given up.
This? This was the woman who had dared impersonate me? The one and only heiress of Duvall? I stared at her in stunned disbelief, fighting the hysterical laugh clawing up my throat.
The girl walked toward me with that insolent, steady gait of someone who believed she belonged where she stood. She looked about my age. "Here she is, Miss Duvall," the maid announced. The girl's eyes snapped to mine, then narrowed in recognition. Of course everyone knew my name here.
It had been my name for nineteen glorious years.
"How dare you? How dare you steal my identity?" I screeched. Anger tasted metallic in my mouth; it rose hot and fast. The Duvall name was everything — inheritance, reputation — and here, in a single breath, this intruder stole it.
"What?!" the girl exclaimed. "I did no such thing." She turned to the maid, searching for a savior. Her hands curled into fists at her sides; there was innocence on her face. The maid, white-faced and shaking under my stare, offered no help.
"Did you touch Eric with these smelly, stinking hands?"
"She touched me!" the girl shot back.
"Are you gloating right now? I'm going to kill you. You know that, right?"
"Miss Duvall, I have done nothing wrong!!!" she shouted back at me. I saw red, a hot, animal rage. The world narrowed to muscle and motion. My boot found the first step and my hands shoved. I shoved her down the stairs; she tumbled, a graceless fall that ended at my aunt's feet in a crumpled heap.
I turned fiery eyes to the maid then, needing an answer. "Where is Mr. Blackwood?" I demanded. The maid swallowed and replied, "He appears to be sleeping, ma'am."
"I hope he wakes up and deals with this good-for-nothing piece of trash". Even as I spoke, imagined her throat being ripped out by the one she had given herself to. It would be satisfying in the basest of ways, a neat justice for a life I believed stolen.
I looked back at my aunt. Vivienne Duvall stood with her usual chilling composure. The girl's face was streaked with blood. "You look oddly familiar. Have we met?" Aunt Viv asked. The girl whimpered, her lips trembling as she answered, "No."
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "How can you know this despicable thing?" I demanded. "In what world would you have even met her?" I descended slowly as if descending into some performance I had rehearsed all my life — the perfect daughter, the rightful heir.
Aunt Viv straightened, the brief softness gone. "You are right." She turned to the maid, who stood trembling near the base of the stairs. "Tie the fool down," Aunt Viv ordered coldly. "Mrs. Blackwood will know what to do with both of you."
"No… please… no… I have to go. My mother will be worried," the girl cried.
Aunt Viv's response was swift and merciless. She struck the girl across the face with an open hand. "You do not speak in my presence unless I ask you to." The girl crumpled, her body curling in on itself, blood splattering the polished floor. I felt a shiver crawl down my spine from awe. My aunt could control a room like no one else.
"I did nothing wrong!" the girl sobbed again. Her defiance was tragic. "You have no right to do this! What kind of people are you?"
"I can do whatever the hell I want," Aunt Viv spat, standing over her. "You want my niece's life so badly, you pretend to be her? You want to carry the Blackwood heir, hmm?" She leaned closer. "You? You should have at least made an effort to pass as my beautiful princess. Pathetic."
Aunt Viv left the girl lying there, blood pooling beneath her chin, and gracefully took a seat on one of the chairs opposite her. She crossed her legs, utterly composed, as if she were about to discuss afternoon tea rather than the fate of a broken girl. Pulling out her phone, she dialed.
"Mrs. Blackwood needs to get back here and deal with this madness," she said.
I glanced once more at the girl. She lay still, her breath shallow, her eyes glassy but unyielding.
I turned to the maid, fury burning hot in my chest. "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear her say you should tie her down?" The poor maid jumped as she scrambled to obey.
I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, "God… where did Mrs. Blackwood get this fool from? She should take lessons about proper employment from you, Aunt Viv."
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