The Actor's Resume

The silence in the nursery was a thick, suffocating blanket. Elena stared at the door she had just bolted, her hands pressed against the white-painted wood. On the other side, she heard a muffled scrape—leather on hardwood—and then nothing.

They were waiting. Marcus and the woman with the smooth, unscarred belly.

Elena forced her fingers to unlock. She couldn't stay in here. If she stayed, she was a cornered animal, and cornered animals were the first to be liquidated. She had to become the predator. She had to walk back out into that hallway and pretend the image of Val's perfect, unblemished skin hadn't just scorched her retinas.

She counted to ten, smoothing her hair and wiping the frantic sweat from her upper lip. Then, she opened the door.

Val was standing five feet away, leaning against the wall, her wet silk top replaced by one of Elena’s own oversized sweaters. She was holding a fresh glass of water. Her face was a mask of placid, sisterly concern.

"I am so sorry, Diana," Elena said, her voice sounding hollow but steady. "I don't know what came over me. The tray... I just lost my footing."

Val didn't move. Her eyes searched Elena’s face, tracing the line of her jaw, looking for the tell-tale twitch of a woman who had seen the truth.

"You seemed so frantic, El," Val said softly. "Bursting in like that. You nearly took my head off with the door."

"I was panicked," Elena lied, stepping into the hallway. "The coffee was boiling. I thought I’d burned you. I just wanted to help."

Val straightened up, her movements slow and deliberate. She took a sip of the water, her eyes never leaving Elena’s. "You did burn me. A little. But Marcus gave me some ointment. I’m fine now."

"I’ll make it up to you," Elena said. "I’ll clear the guest room. You shouldn't be in that wing anyway with the window broken. It’s too cold."

She walked past Val, her skin crawling as the woman’s shadow fell across her back. She didn't head for the stairs. She headed for the linen closet, grabbing a stack of fresh towels. She needed a prop. A domestic task to ground the lie.

Marcus appeared at the top of the stairs, watching the exchange. He had changed his shirt. He looked like the man who had promised to love her until death.

"Everything settled?" Marcus asked, his voice vibrating with a warning.

"Yes," Val said, her voice returning to that airy, bohemian lilt. "Elena was just being a protective big sister. Right, El?"

Elena turned, clutching the towels to her chest like a shield. She looked at the woman who had stolen her sister's face and the husband who had handed her the knife.

"Right," Elena said. "I just want us to be a family again."

Val smiled. It was a terrifyingly perfect expression of affection. She stepped closer, reaching out to pat Elena’s arm. Her touch was cold, the fingers dry and precise.

"It's okay," Diana said. "Sisters forgive each other."

The word 'sister' sounded like a threat.