Chapter 109

Genevieve Belle Sinclair rested her chin in her hands, struggling to focus on the latest email from Cindy, the new PR representative. Her eyes strained behind her glasses, and after a few moments, she removed them, rubbed her tired eyes, and put them back on, hoping for some clarity that never came. She felt utterly miserable. Throughout the weekend, she hadn’t been able to keep any food or drink down. Although her fever wasn’t dangerously high, her entire body felt off, as if something inside her was unsettled beyond physical illness. Matteo had reassured her repeatedly that her symptoms didn’t match poisoning or the mild sedative Frankie had given her. Instead, he insisted it was just a cold, triggered by the shock of having taken a life for the first time. Yet, every time he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, the worry lurking in his eyes betrayed his calm words.

The weight of that phrase—killing someone for the first time—pressed heavily on her mind. She couldn’t decide which part disturbed her more: the fact that she, Genevieve Belle Sinclair, had committed murder, or the chilling implication that it might happen again. A fresh wave of nausea swept over her, and she groaned softly. Rising from her chair, she shuffled across the room and turned her back to the window, pressing the cool glass against her forehead. She had discovered this trick one morning when Matteo had to take several important calls and attend meetings. He’d invited Jada over to keep her company while he was out, and when they ran out of ice packs, Jada shared her own hangover remedy.

“All you need is a window!” Jada had shouted a little too loudly, making Gen wince at the sudden noise.

That wasn’t the only wisdom Jada had passed along. Fortunately, Jada already knew about the terrible act Gen had committed, so there was no need for Gen to voice it aloud and make it even more real. They spent most of that morning with their foreheads pressed against glass, talking about Jada’s own brushes with the dark side of mafia life. Jada had never taken a life herself but had been close enough to enough people to understand the best ways to cope: nourishing food, open discussion, and activities to keep the mind from spiraling into despair.

The distractions were simple enough. They’d watched celebrity gossip channels, scrolled through photos the press had released from the Royale, and even looked at pictures of puppies up for adoption at the local humane society—puppies Jada hoped to surprise Louis with. But the food part was proving much harder. Nothing settled Gen’s stomach. Even her favorite dishes made the nausea churn worse. She chalked it up to the act she had committed. Every time she thought about the blood, her stomach turned. Although Matteo had meticulously cleaned every trace of blood from her skin and clothes, she could still feel it dripping down her face, running along her arms, soaking into his hoodie.

A shiver ran through her body just as her phone pinged. She pulled it from the pocket of her sweater and glanced down at the group chat with her roommates.

Sarah: All done here. Detective Johnson said he’ll keep us updated and gave me his number if anyone has questions. Flyers should be printed—Louise, can you pick those up on your way home?