Page 29 of On Edge

“Listen very carefully, Miss Lovett.” his voice is soft and quiet, almost tender, were it not for the venomous look on his face. “When the boat arrives tomorrow, I would get on it if I wereyou. Because if you don’t, there won’t be a shred of innocence left for you to claim you ever had. I’ll personally make sure of that.”

I have nothing to say back. So I fall silent, and the silence stretches long enough that I lose track of where it starts and ends. Severin goes back to his seat as though nothing has happened and pours himself another glass of wine.

Halfway through what Mrs. Oakley considers dessert, a mince pie with lashings of cream, even though Christmas is at least a couple of months away, he gets up and walks out, the newspaper gripped in his hand. He doesn’t look at me as he passes by. I glance back to where he was sitting. The latest refill of his glass is untouched, his pie uneaten.

I stay in the empty dining room, candlelight flickering over the remains of our first meal together, and stare out at the windows. It’s pitch-black outside now. It gets dark quickly these days. And the wind has picked up again, too, howling through the estate, sounding mournful. Like someone just died.

It matches the sinking feeling in my gut.

I breathe in and out a few times.

When Mrs. Oakley appears in the doorway, eyebrows raised, I want to cry, but I blink the tears away. Crying never solved anything.

“Everything alright, Miss Lovett?”

“Fine,” I lie, breath scattered, straightening. “Just a...misunderstanding about me…er being here.”

She gives me a strange look, “Master Troy doesn’t like surprises. Especially not the kind that sit pretty and pretend they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Pretend?

As she leaves, arms laden with plates and a tray of uneaten mince pies, I sink back into my chair. My fingers still curled around the bread knife.

At least she didn’t try to pry it from my hand.

7

Fragmented Newspaper Clipping (from three years ago)

Fleetwater Gazette|October 11, 2022|“The Last Swan”By Tobias Ragg, Junior Features Writer.

…one of Wychshire’s most beautiful estates,Swanley Hall, now a crumbling and condemned pile of bricks, sinking under the weight of its own decay, is finally set to be auctioned following years of legal entanglement.

Once home to the noble House of Swanley and former Earls of Fleetwater, the isolated estate has been empty since the tragic fire seven years ago that claimed the lives of Edward and Margaret Swanley, along with several of their staff at the time.

(illegible)

…son was remanded to a juvenile facility after allegations of arson and obstruction.

Sources close to the investigation say that the fire may have originated...(fold or scorch mark obscures the rest)

Local officials declined to comment further, most likely due to sealed records and “extenuating psychological factors.”

Pictured above: Swanley Hall, prior to the fire.Right: Young Swanley, 16 years old.(image defaced with heavy scratching over the teenager’s face)

8

TROY

Sage is identical to Nell.

Beautiful. Desirable. Unobtainable. And if I close my eyes, she even sounds like her.

But where Nell was all serrated edges, Sage is soft. Butter-soft.She reminds me of a baby deer lost in the damn woods, which is bloody amusing when I think about it. She’s about as far from innocent as one of my blades. I know what kind of person she is because I knowNell.

A trap disguised as kindness.

Nell manipulated her way into my life and then betrayed me. The only reason another Lovett didn’t put me in prison that time is that I’m no longer a naive teenager, and I can afford a damn good lawyer. Being a self-made billionaire has its perks.