I was torn. The only way I could find out more about these people and who was capable of murder was to stay nearby, but at the same time, I hated to admit—even to myself—I was nervous about the prospect of being so close to my potential killer, or to be discovered as an imposter.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” I said. “But I do find this place most inspirational for my writing.”

I was going against all my instincts, but as much as I disliked the idea of staying, I had to do it. If I boarded in town, how would I discover the truth?

“Of course you’re not imposing, Don Cristóbal,” Angélica stuttered a bit. “We’d be delighted to have you.”

She held my gaze, her eyes glimmering.

“If everyone is in agreement then, I would like to get going before night falls,” Aquilino said. “Don Cristóbal, once Doña Purificación’s death certificate arrives, I will collect all the paperwork and we can continue with the will’s proceedings. That will also give time to the other family members to decide if they want to purchase your share.”

“Excellent,” I said.

Everyone stood up to thank the lawyer, except for me. The whiskey gave me—albeit briefly—the courage to stay behind as Aquilino said his goodbyes. I’d been hoping I didn’t have to pose as a man any longer. I hated to be deceitful, but I saw no other way. In a week’s time, I would probably know who wanted me dead and I could reclaim my portion under my own name. Assuming, of course, that they didn’t manage to kill me first.

CHAPTER 6 - Angélica

CHAPTER 6

Angélica

Three months earlier

Laurent squeezed my hand as Aquilino read a name that hadn’t been spoken aloud in this house for years: María Purificación de Lafont y Toledo.

My father’s Spanish daughter.

The legitimate one.

If it weren’t for her, I would’ve been my father’s favorite. Call me petty if you want, I don’t care, but if you had to live under the shadow of a ghost—a perfect ghost, at that—you would know what it was like to never be good enough, to get crumbs of attention, a smile here and there, a soft squeeze on the cheek as payment for practicing the harp three hours a day and playing like the angels. My good disposition went unnoticed; so did my efforts to manage the household with mathematical precision after my mother’s passing.

I straightened my back, listening to the long list of assets my father was leaving her. This only confirmed what I’d believed my entire life.