The Jealous Girl

Chapter 1

NOW

Late August

Monday

I used to forgive.

It’s what you’re supposed to do. Don’t make a fuss. Just let it go. It was easier that way, and I was good at it.

I didn’t hold grudges. I didn’t dwell. I let cruel words fade and left the past where it belonged.

But then, that’s how I’d ended up here. Alone.

Again.

I’d forgiven. I’d waited. And, most importantly, I’d stayed.

Even when it was hard.

Even when it didn’t quite make sense.

I wasn’t always the best judge of things. I knew that. I could overreact. Read too much into nothing.

So, I waited for things to settle. I thought they had. I thought we’d finally found our way back to each other.

You expect too much.

My stepmother’s voice sprang into my thoughts.

Maybe Janine was right.

Maybe I did.

But this time, I wasn’t going to just sit back and let things happen.

I shuffled in the driver’s seat of my hired red Vauxhall Astra. This time, I would do things differently.

The air inside the car felt stale and heavy. This would have been better in winter. Darkness hides things. The August sun risked exposing them.

I pressed the button to open the window, but nothing happened. Of course. The engine was off.

Starting it would risk drawing attention that I couldn’t afford. Even parked and silent, I felt conspicuous. An idling engine would be worse.

I exhaled slowly and felt my unfamiliar fringe flutter. I checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror, adjusted my short brown wig and shoved the oversized sunglasses further up my nose. As daylight offered me no camouflage, I’d had to take alternative steps to hide my identity.

I nodded sharply. Good. If I could barely recognise myself, then neither would she.

I settled back into the seat, the fabric warm against my skin. Forgiveness might have been easier. Or at least less work. But forgiveness had never protected me. And, this time, it wasn’t even within reach. Which left me with only one course of action.

Revenge.

I drew in a deep breath and held it. Revenge wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t undo what had been done. I knew that. It probably wouldn’t even make me feel better. At least, not at first. But, like Janine always said, practice makes perfect.

I tensed at the further reminder of her. The little expressions that slipped so easily from her lips. She always seemed to have a phrase, an opinion, to fit every occasion.

I let out a long, slow breath. What would she think of me now?

I reached forwards and gripped the unfamiliar steering wheel, clinging to it as though it could ground me. I’d start small. Careful. Controlled. I didn’t need to rush. It would be easier if Charlotte didn’t see anything coming.

Or, at least, if she didn’t know where it was coming from.

My gaze returned to the property at the bottom of the hill. From my vantage point, I could see the whole of Blackwater Stables – the house, the stables themselves, the paddocks and the fields stretching out beyond. Beautiful. Vast.

Almost perfect.

Over a hundred acres. Stabling for forty-two horses. Full and partial livery services. Trekking rides during tourist season. A small breeding operation. All run by the family with the support of half-a-dozen staff.

Including Charlotte.

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. It had occurred to me that, in order to destroy Charlotte’s life, I first needed to know more about it. While she’d managed to sabotage mine for a second time, I didn’t know that much about hers.

At least not yet.

I’d briefly toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator. While it had stirred an unaccustomed feeling of excitement to contemplate something that I’d only ever seen in the movies, I’d reminded myself that this wasn’t some glamorous Hollywood blockbuster, this was reality.

Hiring an investigator represented too many problems. For a start, I wouldn’t know how to go about hiring one.

Sure, I could figure it out with a little help from Google, but how would I know if they were any good?

Most concerning, though, was that it would have meant someone else knowing of my plans.

Not all of them obviously, but when suspicions are aroused and questions start getting asked, I’d prefer having no one around to point accusing fingers at me.

Movement in the upstairs window to the right caught my attention.

I knew that room.

I grabbed the binoculars from the passenger seat and peered through them.

They were awake.

I shuddered at the thought of that word: ‘they’. My fingers wrapped around the binoculars tightly, attempting to squeeze the life from something that had never held any.

There should be no ‘they’. Only one thought enabled me to release my grip and unclench my jaw. When this was over, there wouldn’t be any more.

I checked my watch, and tried to imagine Charlotte’s morning routine: shower, dress, breakfast, kiss him goodbye…

My heart rate quickened at that thought. It was a bad game to play. I needed to stay calm and alert if I was going to succeed. Thoughts of her with her arms wrapped around him, her lips covering his, would only cloud my already dubious judgement.

What the hell was I doing here?

The front door started to open and I pushed that thought away. There wasn’t time to question it now.

I was already here.

Ryan stepped out of the house and I sat up straighter, edging closer to the windscreen. He marched across the yard towards the stables, dressed in faded jeans and work boots.

It had only been a few days, but the sight of him made my heart lurch.

I missed him. Even after everything that had happened.

He didn’t even glance up, just pulled open the door and disappeared inside.

Once, his gaze had sought me out instinctively. Now, I was actively trying to avoid his attention, even if he did happen to look in my direction. Not that he would see me up here, pulled into the grassy verge partway up the hill above.

The door opened again. My chest tightened before I even saw her. Then, there she was. Charlotte.

A wave of nausea surged up, catching in my throat. My grip slipped on the binoculars as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes, drawing in slow, steady breaths until the dizziness passed.

This was a mistake.

It wasn’t me. Watching. Waiting. Plotting.

I swallowed hard. No. I’d come too far to back out now.

She wouldn’t.

She hadn’t.

I opened my eyes, resentment hardening my resolve.

It hadn’t taken her long. Ryan had only moved back into the Blackwaters’ family home a couple of days ago, and she already seemed to be living with him here. I gritted my teeth. I doubted she had been put in the guest room. Unlike me when I’d stayed here.

How was it that a yard hand had been treated more like family than I ever had as Ryan’s girlfriend?

A yoga mat swung from her shoulder as she locked the front door and slipped her keys into her pocket.

I knew she didn’t work on Mondays, but I’d expected her to have a more exciting lifestyle when she wasn’t at the stables.

Or at least a lazier one. Even on her day off, she was up early, glowing with energy, a neat ponytail, leggings fitting like they’d been designed for her.

She didn’t look like someone heading to sweat through a workout.

Jealousy spiked hot and sharp in my chest. She had everything.

As she drove slowly down the long gravel driveway towards the road, I shrank down in my seat, instinct overriding common sense as I failed to realise until too late that hiding was likely to draw more attention to me.

If she turned left, she’d head away from me. But if she turned right, she’d come straight past.

The car paused at the end of the drive.

My breath caught as the right indicator blinked.

I froze.

Fortunately, she drove on, oblivious to my presence.

I snorted. Funny how she had a way of doing that.

Hurriedly, I pushed myself back up into my seat, cursing myself for having parked pointing in the wrong direction.

My heart pounded as I pressed my foot against the accelerator and performed a clumsy three-point turn, anxious that she would be out of sight if I didn’t hurry up.

The gears grated angrily beneath my hand as I rammed the gearstick forward.

I was not going to fail.

I followed her down the winding lane and out onto the main road, curious to know where she was heading. Charlotte had never talked about her life outside Blackwater Stables. Then again, given I was currently stalking her, perhaps she had a good reason not to.

She seemed to know every detail of my life. My weaknesses. My fears. My past. And she knew how to use them against me. Perhaps that made her more cautious about what she shared about herself – she knew better than anyone how easily even the smallest detail could be weaponised.

Not that she would ever imagine I would be any kind of threat to her. She’d written me off years ago. To her, I was harmless. Weak. Disposable.

It would never have occurred to her that I would fight back.

That I could.

That had been her mistake.