Chapter 3: Beneath the Surface
1405 Words
The morning after the charity event, Selena awoke early, her mind already racing. The sun filtered softly through her bedroom curtains, painting golden streaks across the floor, but there was no peace in the light for her. Not anymore.
She had too much to do.
After brushing out her dark curls and slipping into a tailored cream blouse and black slacks, she looked at herself in the mirror. There was a sharpness in her eyes now, a fire that hadn’t been there before. Not the soft, hopeful gaze of the girl she used to be—but the steely stare of a woman with purpose.
Clara was still asleep when Selena passed her room. Of course she was. Clara always rose late, waking to breakfast in bed, perfectly arranged hair, and the glow of false affection.
Selena walked past the door without a glance.
Downstairs, she found her mother in the sunroom, sipping tea and reading emails on her tablet. Joanna Hart looked pristine as always—elegant, poised, untouchable. She didn’t even glance up as Selena entered.
“You’re up early,” Selena said, voice casual.
“I have work to do,” Joanna replied, her tone clipped.
Selena walked over to the breakfast cart and poured herself coffee. “I wanted to ask about getting more involved at the Foundation.”
That made Joanna pause.
She looked up, raising one perfectly sculpted brow. “You’ve never shown any interest before.”
“I’m showing it now.”
Joanna studied her as if trying to determine the angle. “Clara’s already been assigned to the next series of events. She’s—”
“Not the only daughter in this house,” Selena interrupted smoothly. “I want my own responsibilities. Not just a guest list or charity auction details. I want access to the real work.”
Joanna blinked. “That’s a bold request.”
“Good. It should be.”
There was a moment of silence. The clock ticked steadily on the wall. Outside, the gardeners were trimming the hedges.
Finally, Joanna set down her tablet. “Fine. You’ll shadow Clara for the week. I expect you to observe and not get in the way.”
Selena smiled. “Of course.”
She walked away before her mother could take the offer back. Her heart was pounding, but not from nerves.
It was from the thrill.
Every piece was moving into place.
—
Later that morning, Clara stumbled into the dining room in a silk robe and fluffy slippers, yawning dramatically. She froze when she saw Selena sitting at the table, fully dressed and calmly working on Foundation reports.
“What… are you doing?” Clara asked.
Selena didn’t even look up. “Working.”
“You don’t work. You drink tea, read novels, and disappear when things get complicated.”
Selena finally met her gaze, her smile cool. “That was the old me. Didn’t you hear? I’ve changed.”
Clara narrowed her eyes. “Mom told me you’re shadowing me this week. Why?”
Selena stood slowly and walked over to her. “To learn. To watch. To understand how the Foundation operates.”
Clara folded her arms. “You never cared about this stuff before. What are you really after?”
Selena leaned in, just enough that only Clara could hear her. “Maybe I’m just tired of being your shadow.”
She walked out without waiting for a response.
Clara’s silence was more satisfying than any argument.
—
That week, Selena followed Clara like a ghost, absorbing every detail. She watched how Clara smiled at donors, how she whispered flattering lies to board members, how she used subtle manipulation to sway opinions. It was like watching a spider weave a web—graceful, practiced, deadly.
But what Clara didn’t realize was that someone was finally watching her just as closely.
Selena took notes on everything. She noticed how Clara skimmed money from the event budgets, shifting costs into false vendor invoices. She saw how she leaned on Marcus’s name to gain leverage, even using his connections to pressure clients into “donations.”
By the third day, Selena had copies of emails, financial statements, and enough evidence to start painting the picture of who Clara truly was.
But she wasn’t ready to move yet.
First, she had to gather allies.
—
That evening, she met with Noah again. This time, at a quiet little bistro tucked in a narrow alleyway, far from the Hart family’s usual haunts.
He sat across from her, his dark eyes watching her with curiosity.
“You’re serious about this,” he said after she finished explaining.
“Dead serious,” she replied, swirling her glass of wine.
“And you’re planning to take down your own sister?”
Selena met his gaze. “She’s not my sister. Not really. And she killed me, Noah. In another life, she took everything from me—including my life. You want to know why I’m different now? That’s why.”
Noah exhaled slowly. “You sound… like a woman possessed.”
“Maybe I am.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I always knew there was something darker underneath all that quiet grace.”
Selena smiled. “You were one of the only ones who saw me.”
“I still do.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the city humming in the background.
“Can I trust you, Noah?” she asked, her voice lower now. “With all of this?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “You already do.”
—
By Friday, Selena had assembled her arsenal: evidence of financial fraud, personal messages Clara sent to Marcus during the early days of Selena’s original engagement, and a backup drive hidden in her room with duplicates of everything.
Now she needed her next step—Marcus.
He was the final trigger.
The man who played both sisters, who whispered lies in Selena’s ear while sneaking into Clara’s room.
In this life, Selena wouldn’t just expose him.
She’d break him.
—
On Saturday evening, Selena invited Marcus for a “private dinner.”
He arrived dressed in a navy suit and that same smug smile she remembered all too well. He kissed her cheek like they were lovers and brought a bottle of wine older than she was.
“Trying to impress me?” she asked lightly as she poured them both a glass.
“Always,” he said, grinning.
They sat by candlelight on the Hart estate’s back terrace. The view overlooked the city skyline, and the air was warm with the scent of blooming night jasmine.
Selena let the conversation drift at first—career updates, Foundation gossip, a sprinkle of flirtation. Marcus, ever confident, leaned into the moment.
“You’re different, Selena,” he said, his voice smooth. “Bolder. There’s something in your eyes now.”
“Clarity,” she said softly. “Pain brings that.”
He chuckled. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Funny, coming from the man who proposed to me and slept with my sister in the same month.”
His smile faded.
Selena took a slow sip of wine.
“I know everything, Marcus. Every message. Every lie. Every secret meeting.”
He shifted in his chair, the charm fading. “Selena, you’re misunderstanding—”
“No, Marcus. I finally understand everything.”
She leaned forward, her voice low and calm. “You think you can play people like chess pieces. But this time, you’re not the player. You’re the pawn.”
He stared at her.
“I’m giving you one chance,” she continued. “Step away from Clara. Publicly. Cut ties with the Foundation. Or I’ll release everything—to the media, the donors, the IRS. I will burn the illusion you and Clara have built and dance in the ashes.”
He was silent, his jaw tight.
“And if you think I’m bluffing,” Selena whispered, “try me.”
She stood and walked away, leaving Marcus frozen in his seat.
—
Back in her room, Selena opened her notebook.
She crossed out Step Four: Expose Them—one secret at a time.
Then she wrote under it:
Step Five: Watch them turn on each other.
The game was far from over.
But now, the board belonged to her.
- Writer
