Chapter 67 Leila #2
“I can guess how this has played out over the years,” I continue, folding my arms. “You hate men because of what Daddy did, and you hate women because of what I did. It’s you against the world. I’m right, aren’t I?”
She says nothing, continuing to stare at me.
“Still masquerading as the working-class hero, Elise?” I ask, quietly. “Still pretending to be me because it makes you more interesting? More edgy? Do all your corporate work buddies know about your privileged childhood? The ski holidays? The second home in France? The boarding school?”
“Shut up,” she whispers.
“You’re a hypocrite, Elise. Neither of us is who we say we are. You want to expose me? Go ahead. I’ll do the same to you.”
When Elise found out about Chester and me, the only thing that prevented her from telling everyone was her own vanity.
By that time, she’d created a persona for herself where she’d become some kind of token “poor girl” and gained popularity with it within her corporate gang in London.
It made her seem special, interesting. She stood out.
Before me, she’d been just another rich girl in a sea full of them.
“You forget I have Jack’s phone,” she says, her mask back in place.
“You haven’t seen anything. It’s PIN protected.”
“Yes, it is, just like the safe was.” She frowns almost comically.
“And I thought to myself, ‘I know Delilah, she will have changed the code on the safe and the phone to something only she remembers. Now, what number is so important to her that nobody else knows?’ Easy to remember but hard for anyone to guess. Except for me.”
My heart sinks.
“051405. That was the day of your first murder, wasn’t it? Nice touch to use it to hide your second.”
As an advocate, words are my weapon. Carefully selected words, in the right circumstances, can knock you breathless.
But this time, it’s not me delivering the blows.
It’s her. That date will be burned into my memory forever as the most significant of my life.
I should never have told her my biggest secret.
“Honestly, the whole thing is quite scandalous,” she continues, reveling in the power she’s now wielding against me.
She pulls the phone out and leans forward on the low stone wall of the bridge, tapping away at the screen as she inputs the code. The video begins to play. It’s the part where Anton has just come in and is arguing with Jack. He doesn’t yet know I’m there.
“Not only are you having sex with a former client, but then you kill a judge. From this angle, if I’m being honest, it doesn’t look like self-defense. In fact, you seem to be quite enjoying it.”
“Elise,” I beg her. I hate myself for it, but there’s too much at stake. “If you do this, you’ll ruin not only my life but Jack’s, too. He’s done nothing wrong. He went through this for me. You hate me—fine. I get that. Don’t take this out on him.”
Although the video proves Jack’s innocence, it would also expose that he’s lied under oath; that he knew his phone hadn’t been stolen and that I was, in fact, known to Anton.
I won’t have him dragged back into this again.
I look around to check we’re totally on our own.
The only light in the park at this time of night comes from lampposts intermittently placed along the bridge.
She glances away from the screen for a moment and looks at my face.
“You love him, don’t you? I can tell. Jesus, what the hell happened to you? It makes this all the sweeter.”
I’ve been through too much to let this happen.
“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” I whisper, as she watches the video again. “Which is why I can’t allow you to take that video to the police.”
I lunge for her and attempt to snatch the phone from her hand.
Clinging to it, she smashes her other hand into my face.
Undeterred, I grab at her hair as hard as I can, but then she pins my body over the side of the low stone wall.
The sound of the river rushes through my ears as my head hangs over the edge.
“Nice try, bitch!” she spits out, before repeatedly punching me in the face so hard my cheekbone feels about to crack.
Elise starts trying to push my body up the wall and I’m so disoriented it takes me a second to work out why. She’s trying to throw me over the side. This is the result of fourteen years’ worth of hate and revenge. She won’t stop until I’m finished.
An animalistic instinct kicks in.
Using every iota of strength I have, I swing my right leg out from underneath her and aim the stiletto heel of my boot at her body.
Jabbing sharply, it connects with her lower leg on the third attempt, and she screams. As she slightly releases her grip on me, I push her off me and turn her around so she’s now backed against the wall.
She struggles and kicks, each blow landing forcefully on my body.
Raising my hands, I place them around her neck and squeeze. She pushes at me, gasping for breath, looks at me with wild eyes. She knows I’m capable of this. She knows I’ll do it.
I must protect myself. Nobody else will.
She’s losing strength. Quickly, I reach for the phone still in her hand and grab it from her. In an act of desperation, she reaches for my hair with both hands and screams. In one quick move, gathering all the strength I have, I push her up and over the wall.
I didn’t technically push her. She lost her balance.
A large splash signals her entry into the water. It’s a deep river. Cold. I place the phone in my coat pocket.
Rule #1.
Don’t Get Caught.