Milan #2
“Moving money.”
“That sounds like stealing.”
“You don’t understand business.”
“I understand murder.”
Malcolm looked at me.
“I didn’t mean to kill him.”
My heartbeat slowed instead of speeding up. I had pictured hearing those words for years, but now they felt almost disappointing.
“You pushed him.”
“He came at me.”
“So you pushed him.”
“He fell.”
“And then you called Warren.”
Malcolm said nothing.
“And China?”
His eyes moved away.
My stomach tightened.
“What did China do?”
“Milan.”
“What did my sister do?”
“She helped.”
I smiled, but it didn’t feel pleasant at all.
“I know she helped frame me. I want to know why.”
Malcolm stared at me. Then he said something I never saw coming.
“Because she was already pregnant.”
I stopped. The room got quiet. Malcolm looked like he wished he could take it back. I moved closer.
“Say that again.”
He didn’t.
“Malcolm.”
“China was pregnant.”
My mouth felt dry.
“When?”
He looked at me. I knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.
“When I was arrested?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him. As far as I knew, China had never had children.
“What happened?”
“She lost it.”
“When?”
“A few weeks after you were sentenced.”
I turned away, needing some space. It wasn’t that the news hurt, but now I understood. They were together before I was arrested. My sister was pregnant with his child while I was still making plans with him.
I laughed without meaning to. Malcolm frowned.
“What’s funny?”
“You.”
“Milan.”
“You stood in court and talked about how worried you were about my jealousy.”
“I had to.”
“You had to?”
“If anybody knew about me and China, they would’ve looked at us.”
The real reason wasn’t love or panic. It was self-preservation. Jeremy was dead, and Malcolm needed someone to blame.
Who better than the girlfriend he was already planning to leave? The one with an identical twin who could be caught on camera in her clothes.
“You picked me,” I said.
Malcolm shook his head.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“You picked me.”
“We panicked.”
“No, you planned this shit.”
“Milan.”
“You put China in my clothes.”
He got quiet.
“You gave her my car.”
Nothing.
“You planted my scarf.”
“Milan, please.”
“Did you put my fingerprints in Jeremy’s office?”
His face gave him away before he could speak. I felt something inside me break. It wasn’t my heart, that had broken years ago. It was something smaller, something I didn’t know was still there. This was all that remained of the woman who once loved him.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Malcolm frowned.
“For what?”
“For finally making this easy.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
I glanced at his wedding suit hanging by the window. Everything was ready. I smiled.
“It means I don’t feel bad anymore.”
Malcolm moved toward me. I stepped backward.
“Stay away from me.”
“You came into my room.”
“You invited me.”
“I want you to leave now.”
“I will.”
I turned toward the door. Malcolm let out a breath, relieved. He thought it was over. I reached into my waistband and opened the folding knife in my hand.
Malcolm heard the click. He turned. I drove the blade into his stomach. His eyes widened. Then I pulled the knife out. Blood spread across his gray shirt.
“Milan.”
His voice was barely there. I stabbed him again. He grabbed my wrist, but I pulled away. Malcolm hit me hard across the face, knocking me into the TV stand.
The TV broke. Pain shot through my cheek. He ran for the door. I grabbed his shirt, but he turned and shoved me. I fell to the floor.
Malcolm unlocked the door. I lunged and grabbed his ankle. He fell, his chin hitting the floor. Blood came from his mouth.
He kicked me, his heel hitting my shoulder. I screamed. He crawled toward the door, and I got on his back. Malcolm rolled over and punched me in the ribs. I couldn't breathe for a moment. He got up, and so did I.
We faced each other, both bleeding and out of breath. Malcolm looked at me like I was a stranger. In a way, I was.
“You’re fucking crazy.”
I wiped blood from my lip.
“No.”
I picked up the knife.
“You made sure the whole world thought that once already.”
Malcolm ran, but not to the door. He headed for the bathroom. I chased after him. He slammed the door and locked it before I could get in. I hit the door with my shoulder and laughed.
“Malcolmmmm.”
“Stay the fuck away from me.”
I looked at the blood on my hand. Then at the door.
“You know what’s funny?”
“Go to hell.”
“You’re hiding in a bathroom from a woman who spent six years locked in a room.”
There was a moment of silence. I smiled.
“You should know better than anybody that doors do not scare me.”
I stepped back and kicked next to the lock. BOOM. BOOM. The frame cracked. On the third kick, the door burst open.
Malcolm stood by the bathtub, gripping a glass soap dispenser. He swung at me, but I ducked. The bottle shattered against the wall.
I stabbed his thigh with the knife. Malcolm screamed and fell against the sink. I pulled the blade out, and blood ran down his leg.
He tried to swing at me again, but I caught his arm. We struggled. He had more strength, but I had more anger. Anger won.
I slammed his hand against the counter. Then I stabbed him in the shoulder.
He screamed my name. I stabbed him again and again.
Six years turned into six wounds. One for each birthday I spent locked away. One for every Christmas. One for every year he woke up next to my sister while I woke to the sound of steel doors opening.
Malcolm slid down the wall, blood spreading across the front of his shirt.
His hands shook.
“Milan.”
I stood over him.
He seemed smaller than I remembered. For years, I had made him out to be bigger in my mind, and now I felt embarrassed by that.
“You loved me,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Then stop.”
I knelt down.
“Do you know what the worst part was?”
Malcolm swallowed hard.
“I would’ve forgiven you for China.”
His face fell.
“I would’ve hated you both, but I would’ve survived it.”
“Milan.”
“You could’ve left me. You could’ve married her. You could’ve had ten babies with her, and eventually I would’ve moved on.”
He started to breathe quickly.
“But you didn’t just break my heart.”
I touched his cheek. He pulled away.
“You buried me alive.”
A tear ran down his face. I brushed it away with my thumb.
“I’m sorry.”
I smiled and pushed the knife up under his jaw. Malcolm jerked and grabbed my arms. Blood ran over my fingers. I kept holding him. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted my face to be the last thing he saw.
His grip loosened. Something shifted in his eyes. Then Malcolm Banks stopped breathing. I sat next to his body and listened to the silence for a few seconds.
My face ached. My ribs hurt. My shoulder throbbed. Both of our blood covered my hands. I glanced at the bedroom. His tuxedo was still hanging by the window.
China was probably upstairs having her makeup done. Maybe she wondered why Malcolm hadn’t called back. Maybe she was smiling at herself in the mirror.
I stood up. Before he died, Malcolm gave me something. It wasn’t an apology. It was the truth. China hadn’t betrayed me because Malcolm tricked her after Jeremy died.
She had already been sleeping with him. She had even been pregnant by him. When they needed someone to take the fall, my twin sister offered me instead.
That changed what I wanted for her. I had planned to kill China quickly, but not anymore. I wanted her in her wedding dress, her veil pinned just right. I wanted her standing in front of the mirror when she found out Malcolm was dead.
Then I wanted to see her realize that I was the one who did it. I cleaned myself up as fast as I could.
Malcolm's bathroom looked like a slaughterhouse. There was no way to hide what happened. That shit didn’t matter anymore. Time was running out.
I needed a few hours. Nothing more.
I pulled Malcolm into the shower and closed the glass door.
Blood streaked the tile. His eyes stayed open. I left them like that. I had to hurry back to my room and change. This wasn’t how I meant to deal with Malcolm, but at least I had another pair of these pajamas.
I shoved the bloody clothes into a plastic bag.
Before I left, I went back to the bathroom. Malcolm was slumped over in the shower.
I glanced at him one last time.
“You should’ve married me,” I laughed.
I left his room. I took the stairs up to eight and slipped into my room. I changed into the pajamas, then checked the mirror and fixed my hair, smoothing the curls and tightening the ponytail. Once I was satisfied, I went back out.
When I walked into China’s suite, everyone was still in the same spot. Someone curled Sierra’s hair. China sat in front of the mirror as the makeup artist put on her lipstick.
She looked at me.
“Where the hell have you been?”
I smiled.
“The bathroom.”
“For almost forty minutes?”
“It was serious, and I had to take another shower.”
Sierra burst out laughing. China rolled her eyes.
“You’re disgusting.”
I walked over to her. She turned to face the mirror again. Her lipstick was a deep red. It was almost the same shade as Malcolm’s blood.
“Have you heard from him?” China asked.
“Who?”
“Malcolm.”
I glanced at our reflections in the mirror.
“No.”
“He’s not answering.”
“I’m sure he’s busy getting ready.”
China grabbed her phone.
“He bet not be drunk.”
I smiled at her.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
China turned back to the mirror. The makeup artist smiled at her.
“You’re all done.”
China stood up. Everyone cheered. Sierra opened another bottle of champagne. Someone turned up the music. China laughed. She seemed happy again.
I watched her walk over to the garment bag by the window. She took her time unzipping it. The white lace flowed into the room. The bridesmaids gasped.
China glanced back at me over her shoulder.
“Will you help me put it on?”
I smiled.
“I would love to.”
Malcolm was gone. Warren was gone too. Now it was my sister’s turn to get ready.