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This event was too important for me to flub. This wouldn’t be like before. This scene would be examined with a fine-toothed comb. Every detail had to be perfect, which was why the framework needed to start now.

Cue my surgery, which would require recovery time.

Cue a new addition to my home, in the form of a nanny.

Cue her spending long hours around my husband and child.

Each one was a domino, and I needed to have a dozen in place before the birthday party.

A few hours after the birthday cake was cut, I’d tip over the first one and watch them all fall around her.

The nanny wouldn’t understand her role in it, not right away. It would take her days, weeks, maybe even months, before she really understood what had happened. By then, the noose would be tied, she’d be in jail, and I would have my new life.

My first instinct in a nanny had been for flash—something that would cause the media to foam at the mouth. A local beauty queen or an Instagram star. A “perfect, rich teen” ... the sort of girl Sophie would have turned into five or six years from now.

In my first interview, with Kayla Dearden, I saw the error in that mentality. The guy at the table beside us wouldn’t stop staring at her. In addition to being annoying, it also brought to light a problem: Kayla was both beautiful and interesting. The media would focus all their attention on her and I would be forgotten, a second-class citizen, an Oh, by the way feature.

Screw that. I needed to be the main event. The star. If they ever put us side by side, I needed to be the more interesting choice in every category.

I told Kayla I would call her if she was selected, then tossed her résumé into the stack with the other rejects.

My fourth interview looked to be a lot more promising. Paige Smith had sounded meek on the phone, and she’d informed me that she was one of the waitresses from the club. I liked that connection, and was curious if she was one of the regular staff who waited on Grant and me.

Paige was ten minutes early to the interview. She took the seat across from me in a white button-up shirt and cheap black dress pants. She wore dingy tennis shoes that were double-knotted and had a single gold ring on her index finger. Cheap, fake diamond studs in her ears. Clean but thin brown hair in a low bun that was losing pieces every time she moved her head.

She looked exactly like what I once was. Slightly white trash and neglected. Looking for a way out.

On one side, that was perfect. She’d have no resources to defend herself. If the rewards were flashy and in easy grasp, she’d make mistakes and overlook red flags.

On the other side, if she was like my early self ... There was something very dangerous about a woman with nothing to lose. I would need to watch her carefully and make sure our similarities were only in circumstance and not also in cunning.

“You’re in school?” I asked, scanning her résumé.

“Yeah, I take classes at the community college.”

“What are you studying?” I placed her résumé to the side and picked up my glass of ice water. I had selected the Stag House as the location for the interviews. A neutral location was best, and I wanted to see how the applicants handled themselves in the upper-class restaurant.

Kayla had been right at home, tossing her purse onto one of the free chairs at our table and flagging down the waiter to demand a sparkling water with a slice of lime.

In contrast, Paige had her bag tucked between her knees as if someone might steal it. She’d nervously reviewed the menu before ordering a side salad and a cup of soup—the cheapest items, but they would still total almost forty dollars before the tip. I smiled to myself, warming to the brunette. This could work. I’d have to give her some confidence, get her out of her shell a little, but there were a lot of ways to do that.

I thought of my first month with Janice and George—the day that Janice took me to her salon. It had been all modern surfaces and gold accents, and I’d been given a robe, then seated in a chair before a mirror as two people swarmed around me, peering, touching, fingering the ends of my hair, and speaking as if I weren’t there.

“A bob, definitely.”

“Look at her bone structure. We can work with this; we just need to get rid of the mess.”

“Poor thing. You can just see the pain in her eyes.”

Chris, the stylist, had tapped my jaw. “Chin up.”

I had glared at him in response. He had paused, then glanced over at his assistant with a loud laugh. “Look at her, Bea. I do believe we have a lion under this mane.” He ran his thin fingers through my hair, pulling it off my face. “It’s Perla, is that right?”

Perla. Back then, I wasn’t used to the name. It sounded strange, like a brand of tampon. Still, it was one that Janice had picked, and I was frantic to make her happy, no matter what.

I nodded and Chris had leaned forward, his cheek next to mine, both of us facing the mirror. “Are you ready to remake yourself, Perla? Are you ready to become a different person?”

I met his eyes in the mirror, and it was like signing a contract with him. I gave him my looks and trusted him to make me beautiful—or at least someone who was unrecognizable from the girl I had been.

And he did that.

He had done that for me, and I could do something similar for Paige, though her story wouldn’t end up like mine.

Mine would have a happy ending. Hers would end in tragedy. Jail. A life sentence, maybe several.

“History,” she said. “Well, initially.”

“I’m sorry?” I stopped, my glass halfway to my mouth.

“You asked what I was studying.” Her napkin was still before her, folded in an arched fan on top of her salad plate, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything she was saying while it was there.

“As soon as you sit, you should place your napkin in your lap.” I nodded toward it, and she flushed, then quickly grabbed it and placed it on her lap. “It’s not a big deal,” I said kindly. “I didn’t know, either, when I was your age.”

“I should have known,” she said bluntly. “I mean, it’s like the first rule of fine dining. I just didn’t think. I’m nervous. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just really want this job.”

I smiled, and this one was more genuine, because I would be able to cancel the other interviews. I didn’t need to hear anything more from her.

Paige was perfect.