“And you almost imploded the entire plan. I could’ve gotten arrested.”

“But you didn’t. It worked out. Why are you doing this?”

I stop once I reach the curb and stare back at her. “You know, you should be grateful. I saved you from years and years of heartbreak by getting him in the ground.”

I found her on the floor in my father’s bedroom. She was on her knees, makeup smudged, a complete mess, crying because she’d caught him cheating. She told me that she wanted to leave him and call off the wedding, but she’d just found out she was six weeks pregnant. I told her I had a way for her to get what she wanted and get back at him at the same time.

If she did me one little favor.

Once Brandi was in jail and the will was executed, she would get her cut and she wouldn’t be a suspect because her name wasn’t included in the will—therefore, there was no motive.

She said she would do it. She’d pour him a glass of scotch in one of the contaminated glasses if I gave her part of my inheritance.

I knew this bitch wanted his money. I fucking knew it.

It was the perfect plan.

Until she went and screwed everything up.

Izzy pauses, blinking over and over like she’s a broken doll, because obviously my words are too much to process for her itty-bitty brain. “We killed Simon. You made me—”

“Cry me a fucking river. I had to snitch on my two best friends because of your screwup and you think you’re still getting a piece of the pie?”

Another long pause. This time her nostrils flare, lips trembling. A tear rolls down her cheek. “You’re sick, Taylor.”

“No, bitch. I’m a billionaire with a capital B. My shitty father is in the ground where he belongs, and I get to spend his money for the rest of my life.”

Finally, my driver texts me, letting me know he’s down the street, stuck at a light. I text him back, tell him I’ll meet him where he is, then take a back street and head down the empty sidewalk. Izzy follows me.

“You think your father was a monster,” she says from behind me. I keep walking. Faster. Harder. “You’re even worse. You’re the real fucking monster!”

The last part was a full-on scream.

I give her nothing. I don’t give a shit about her precious little feelings. She killed him. She knew what she was doing. If she regrets it now, that’s not my fucking problem.

“Taylor.”

Her voice is softer now, but just as urgent.