CHAPTER 6
Chapter Title: The Queen's Gambit (Part 2)
Kimberly
The music swelled, a pulsing remix of some pop song I vaguely recognized, and I let myself sink into the room. Delish was a magnet for Crisfield’s elite and its wannabes—real estate wives flirting with their tennis instructors, sons of oyster barons flashing trust funds like they were Olympic medals, girls like me with secrets tucked beneath our glossy exteriors. It was a place where you could reinvent yourself for a few hours, slip into a new skin. Tonight, I wasn’t Hank Williamson’s fiancée, the dutiful future daughter-in-law navigating Divine’s minefield. I was Kimberly Hastings—dangerous, underestimated, and one drink away from setting this whole world ablaze.
Emma leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Your performance tonight? It’s already making the rounds. Apparently, Divine had a full-volume meltdown in the east parlor after you left. Half the staff heard.”
“Perfect,” I said, swirling the ice in my glass, watching it catch the neon light. “It’s always good to remind people the Queen bleeds.”
“She’s going to hate you more than ever,” Emma said, her tone half-admiring, half-wary.
“She already does,” I replied, meeting her gaze.
Emma studied me, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not afraid of her, are you?”
“No,” I said simply. “Why? Should I be?”
She shifted, her fingers tightening around her cocktail glass. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s all prim and proper on the outside, but underneath... she’s something else.”
My brow creased, and I leaned in, sensing a crack in her facade. “What do you mean?”
Come on, Emma, spill it.
But the moment shattered. Across the bar, someone laughed too loudly—a sharp, grating sound that pulled Emma’s attention. I followed her gaze and spotted Allison Reed, another piece of Hank’s old crew, holding court with a group of men who screamed “tourist” in their ill-fitting blazers and overeager grins. Allison, all auburn hair and sharp cheekbones, slipped a pink business card into the shirt pocket of one of the men, its color clashing with his navy shirt. Obviously not a card from Lace and Timber, her overpriced artisan shop. No, this was something shadier.
Allison stood tall and rail-thin, her frame wrapped in a red, white, and blue minidress that hugged every line. Knee-high white boots completed the look, while her long, reddish-brown hair was drawn back into a sleek, flawless ponytail.
She was the group’s charity case, the one they’d propped up through college only for her to drop out after freshman year. Yet she’d clung to them, orbiting their world through their undergrad years at a local Maryland university. Or so they claimed. I had heard whispers, caught fragments of conversations that didn’t add up. That local university story was a lie, a carefully crafted cover for something murkier.
Unlike Cole and Emma, Allison’s presence in the group never quite fit—but her ties to Crisfield’s underbelly made her indispensable.
Allison caught my stare, her eyes flickering with unease. Then, she shrugged and tossed her hair, strutting toward the VIP section. She raised her glass in a mock toast to another group, moving with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere and nowhere.
“Hey, Emma,” I said, sliding off my barstool. “I’m just going to hit the ladies’ room.”
I wove through the crowd, my eyes tracking Allison as she worked the room. A man in a navy blazer stumbled out of the VIP section, cursing as he nearly tripped over the velvet rope. I watched him, my mind already calculating. The wealthy always overindulged when they thought no one was watching, and this guy was halfway to sloppy. But it wasn’t just alcohol loosening his tongue tonight. Allison sidled up to him, her hand brushing his as she slipped a small plastic bag into his palm. Party favors for the rich. I shrugged it off—Crisfield’s elite had their vices, and Allison supplied them.
In the restroom, I locked myself in a stall and checked my phone. A text from Hank glowed on the screen:
Hope you’re having fun. Tell Emma hi. Love you.
I didn’t reply. Not because I didn’t care—though that was closer to the truth than I’d admit—but because I didn’t want to break the spell of the night. This wasn’t about Hank anymore. It was about me, about the pieces I’d been moving for years, finally locking into place.
Two years of calculated steps. The bakery I’d opened in town, a quaint little front that let me blend in while keeping my ear to the ground. The move to Maryland, away from my old life and my sister Kathy’s shadow. The slow, deliberate seduction of Hank—every smile, every dinner, every painful conversation about our future. Swallowing my pride as Divine treated me like dirt beneath her Manolos. It was all a game, and I’d played it perfectly.
Now, I had my foot in the door. A signed prenup. A household watching me with suspicion, their whispers only fueling my resolve. Staff murmuring my name like it was a curse—or a prayer.
The Queen wasn’t bleeding.
She was baiting.
Back at the bar, I finished my drink, the vodka warming my veins, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through me. “I’m calling it a night,” I told Emma, standing and smoothing my dress. “I need sleep—or a less toxic cocktail.”
“You sure?” she asked, her brow furrowing with a flicker of concern. She gestured to Allison, who was now laughing with another group across the room. “Cole can have someone drive you.”
“No need,” I said, already opening the Uber app. “Five minutes away.”
“You’re pretty lit,” Emma noted, her voice tinged with worry. “Just text me when you get home. Please. My dad’s been going on about those missing women. He thinks it’s tied to a serial.”
I knew about the missing women. Their disappearances weren’t the work of some random predator. They were linked to someone closer, someone hiding in plain sight. But I just gave Emma a reassuring smile. “I promise.”
The car pulled up right on time, a black SUV with its hazards blinking, engine purring like a lullaby.
I waved good-bye to Cole as Emma and Allison guided me to the curb, their heels soft against the damp pavement. “Text us,” Allison said, her voice firm, but her eyes avoided mine, as if she couldn’t bear to meet my gaze.
I gave them another smile, all charm and reassurance, before sliding into the back seat with a graceful wave. “Thanks for the fun night. Drink for me.”
The door shut with a soft thud. The SUV pulled away.
“You ready?” the driver asked, his voice low, laced with a flicker of amusement.
“Of course. Everything’s in place,” I replied, leaning back against the cool leather seats, my pulse thrumming with anticipation. “My sister will come when Hank files the report. She’s the one I need to turn Divine’s world upside down.”
“Alright, then.” The SUV turned left, away from the main road, toward the shadowed edges of town where the streetlights flickered and died. My heart quickened—not with fear, but with excitement.
I pressed my hand against the window, the glass cold against my palm. No one saw.
No one ever sees.
But this time, I’ll make them see.
Fireworks burst over the bay, their red, white, and blue sparks lighting up the night like a warning.
And in the dark, I vanished.