It felt like I was playing a bit part in one of your movies, but trust me, I was planning to steal this scene.

I knew I had to do something pretty dramatic soon. He was going to wonder why I was still standing there. I didn’t know if I’d be too scared to do it if he actually looked at me. But then he did—and everything just happened.

I shoved the gun into his face and pulled the trigger. Such a tiny action, almost a reflex. A second later, he was dead, just blown away. I could do pretty much whatever I wanted to now.

So I walked around to the passenger side, climbed inside the car, and waited for you. Nice, nice car. So plush and comfortable, with leather, soft lighting, a bar and small refrigerator stocked with all your favorites. Twix bars, Antonia? Shame, shame.

In a way, it was too bad you came out of the house so soon. I liked being in your limo. The quiet time, the luxury. In those few minutes, I could see why you would want to be who you are. Or at least, who you were.

My heart is beating faster just writing this, remembering the moment.

You stood outside the car for a second before you opened the door for yourself. Dressed down, without makeup, yet still breathtaking. You couldn’t see me or the dead driver through the one-way glass. But I could see you. That’s how it’s been all week, Antonia. I’ve been right there and you’ve never noticed me.

What an incredible moment this was for me! Me, inside your car. You, outside, in a tweed jacket that made you look very Irish and down-to-earth.

When you got in, I immediately locked the doors and put down the partition. You got this amazing look on your face the second you saw me. I’d seen that same look before—in your movies, when you pretended to be afraid.

What you probably didn’t realize was that I was just as scared as you. My whole body was quivering. My teeth were hitting together. That’s why I shot you before either of us could say anything.

The moment went by way too fast, but I had planned on that. That’s what the knife was for. I just hope it isn’t your children who find you. I wouldn’t want them to see you that way. All they need to know is that Mommy is gone, and she’s not coming back.

Those poor children—Andi, Tia, Petra, Elizabeth.

They’re the ones I feel so sorry for. Poor, poor babies without their mommy. Could anything be sadder?

I know something that is—but that’s my secret, and no one will ever know.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4