Chapter 4 4

Sunlight sliced through the heavy velvet curtains, hitting Elaina right in the eyes. She woke up instantly, no grogginess, just a sharp, clear alertness.

She sat up. The sofa was empty. The pillow was on the floor. Cordero was gone.

Good.

Elaina threw off the covers and marched into the massive walk-in closet. She flipped the light switch.

It was a horror show.

Rack after rack of neon colors, animal prints, sequins, and feathers. In her past life, Amanda had "helped" her shop, telling her that the Boone family loved bold, artistic statements. She had told Elaina that Cordero liked women who dressed "exotically" to match her Latina heritage.

Elaina had looked like a clown. A caricature.

She grabbed a handful of hangers holding a leopard print jumpsuit with rhinestones. She ripped it off the rack and threw it on the floor.

Then a neon pink tulle skirt.

A gold lamé blouse.

She moved with a frantic, focused energy, stripping the closet bare of the atrocities. By the time she was done, a mountain of expensive, tacky fabric lay in the center of the room.

She went to the back corner, where she had hidden her old clothes-the ones from before she tried to be "Mrs. Boone."

She found a pair of straight-leg vintage Levi's and a crisp, white button-down shirt. She put them on. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows.

She went to the bathroom. She washed her face, scrubbing away the residue of the heavy night creams Amanda had insisted she use. Her skin was glowing and youthful. She didn't need layers of foundation.

She pulled her thick, dark hair back into a high, severe ponytail, exposing the elegant line of her neck.

She looked in the mirror. She didn't look like a rich man's toy anymore. She looked like Elaina Velasquez. Dangerous. Clean. Sharp.

A knock at the door. A maid peeked in, holding a feather duster.

"Oh!" The maid jumped when she saw the pile of clothes. Then she looked at Elaina, her eyes widening. She clearly didn't recognize the woman standing there. "Ma'am?"

"Take all of this," Elaina said, gesturing to the pile. Her voice was cool and authoritative. "Donate it. I don't care. Just get it out of my sight."

"Y-yes, Mrs. Boone." The maid scrambled to comply.

Elaina walked out of the room. She descended the grand staircase, her hand gliding over the mahogany banister. The portraits of Boone ancestors seemed to glare at her, but she stared right back.

She reached the dining room.

Cordero was sitting at the head of the table, a newspaper spread out, a cup of coffee in hand.

Amanda was there too. Of course she was. She was sitting to Cordero's right, leaning in close, laughing at something on her phone. She was wearing a floral sundress that looked innocent and sweet.

Elaina's heels clicked on the marble floor. Click. Click. Click.

Cordero looked up.

His eyes widened. He froze. The coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. He stared at her, his gaze traveling from the white shirt to the jeans to the ponytail. He looked confused, as if he was trying to reconcile this image with the woman he married yesterday.

Amanda turned, a smile plastered on her face. "Elaina! Good morn-"

The smile died. She blinked. She looked at Elaina's outfit, then at her face. The lack of makeup. The confidence.

Elaina didn't say a word. She walked past Amanda. She walked past the empty seat on the side where she usually sat.

She walked to the foot of the table-the seat opposite Cordero. The Matriarch's seat.

She pulled the heavy chair out. The sound scraped against the floor, echoing.

She sat down. She crossed her legs. She laced her fingers together on the table.

"Good morning," Elaina said. Her voice was calm, devoid of the desperate, high-pitched tone she used to have.

The silence in the room was absolute.

Cordero slowly lowered his cup. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. It wasn't hatred anymore. It was shock.

Amanda shifted in her seat. She looked unsettled. "Elaina, you look... different. Are you feeling okay? That outfit is very... casual for breakfast at the Manor."

"It's clean," Elaina said, holding Amanda's gaze. "I decided I was done wearing costumes."

Amanda flinched as if she'd been slapped.

Elaina turned her head to the butler standing by the sideboard. "Black coffee. No sugar."

The butler, a man named Henderson who had always ignored her, snapped to attention. "Yes, Madam. Immediately."

Elaina looked back at Cordero. He was still watching her. His dark eyes were narrowed, calculating. He was seeing her for the first time.