A Beautiful Tragedy

The sight alone was enough to sour her mood.

There was something almost pathetic about it.

A father desperately throwing himself into parenthood and affection because his marriage had become a ruin.

A son who looked at that father as though he hung the moon itself in the night sky.

The entire thing made her stomach turn.

Her thoughts wandered briefly to the conversation she’d shared with Nadira some years before, and for a fleeting moment she considered the warning her sister had given her regarding Claude and the binding she’d worked on him.

The memory made her laugh softly.

Not because the warning had frightened her.

Far from it.

It amused her.

Nadira had always believed people were deeper than they truly were. Always looking for goodness in places where it simply did not exist.

With a dismissive sigh, Liora turned away from the staircase and made her way down the hallway toward what was now solely her bedroom.

Claude no longer slept there.

Not since that glorious night when he’d returned unexpectedly early from one of his trips and discovered exactly what kind of woman he’d married.

The memory still pleased her.

The look on his face.

The disbelief.

The hurt.

The way it had shattered something inside him.

It had been magnificent.

For years she’d endured the tedious performance of pretending to be his devoted wife, smiling when she wanted to sneer, accepting his affections when she’d rather have shoved him away, and enduring his endless attempts at romance and companionship despite the fact that she’d grown tired of him long before they’d exchanged vows.

Being discovered had been almost liberating.

Now she no longer had to put on the act.

No longer had to waste energy pretending she cared whether he was happy or miserable.

The mask had finally fallen away.

And still he loved her.

Still, he stayed.

That was the truly fascinating part.

Because any sensible person would’ve walked away by now.

Any person with a shred of self-respect would’ve filed for divorce, taken the humiliation on the chin, and attempted to rebuild their life.

Instead, Claude remained exactly where he’d always been.

Orbiting around her.

Watching her.

Loving her.

Needing her.

It would’ve been pitiful if it wasn’t so entertaining.

Lowering herself into the armchair situated beside the bedroom window, Liora crossed one long leg over the other and let herself relax against the cushions.

The posture was one of complete confidence.

Complete arrogance.

The sort of arrogance Louis himself would’ve admired had the miserable bastard still been alive.

There had once been a time when she’d considered simply killing Claude.

Claude and his son.

It certainly would’ve simplified a number of things.

But every time she entertained the thought she inevitably came to the same conclusion.

Where was the fun in that?

Death was quick.

Permanent.

Predictable.

There was no challenge in it.

No entertainment.

Besides, murdering Claude Landry would’ve caused more complications than she was willing to tolerate.

The Landry family possessed money, influence, friendships, and political connections reaching far beyond Lafayette. The man’s disappearance would have attracted attention she’d much rather avoid.

Liora might’ve been selfish.

She was a conniving bitch.

But she wasn’t stupid.

“Lawd,” she mused aloud as she swirled the whiskey in her glass. “What an absolute mess I’ve managed to make.”

The lamp beside her flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Liora didn’t even bother looking up.

“Fuck off,” she muttered. “Whatever dead bastard you are, I ain’t in the mood.”

The flickering stopped.

Whether it was Louis or one of the countless spirits that seemed to drift in and out of the house these days, she neither knew nor cared.

The dead had long since lost their ability to impress her.

It was the living she preferred tormenting.

That thought caused her mind to drift elsewhere.

To Nadira.

A slow smile spread across her face.

Now there was something interesting.

Her sister had been back in the house for several weeks caring for Charles, and what had initially seemed like a minor inconvenience had quickly become one of the most amusing developments Liora had witnessed in years.

It had started with little things.

Tiny details that most people would’ve overlooked.

Claude had stopped calling her Mrs. Gallows.

Now it was simply Nadira.

Gentle.

Familiar.

Comfortable.

As though speaking her name brought him some measure of peace.

Then there were the conversations.

The way he actively sought her out.

The way his shoulders seemed relax whenever she entered a room.

The way he’d begun trusting her with thoughts and concerns he’d once carried directly to his wife.

And perhaps most interesting of all was the way he looked at her when he thought nobody was watching.

Not with desire.

Not yet.

No.

It was something far more dangerous than that.

Admiration.

Respect.

Gratitude.

The foundations from which every deep attachment eventually grew.

Liora leaned back into her chair and laughed softly.

Poor Claude.

The man was starving.

Starving for kindness.

Starving for affection.

Starving for understanding.

And Nadira, with her soft heart and endless capacity for compassion, was feeding that hunger without even realizing it.

The irony was delicious.

Nadira genuinely believed she was helping him.

Believed she was offering comfort to a wounded soul.

Believed her kindness existed in some separate place untouched by consequence.

But kindness had consequences too.

Sometimes more than cruelty.

A wicked glimmer entered Liora’s eyes.

“Ah, sissy,” she whispered into the empty room, her voice dripping with amusement.

“You truly have no idea what you’ve started.”

The smile that spread across her face was slow and terrible.

Because suddenly she wasn’t interested in Claude’s love anymore.

She wasn’t interested in whether he forgave her.

She wasn’t even particularly interested in destroying him.

No.

This was far more entertaining.

She wanted to watch what happened when a good man, abandoned by the woman he loved, slowly found comfort in another.

She wanted to see how long Nadira’s loyalty, goodness, and marriage could withstand the pressure.

Most of all, she wanted to see the moment when Claude could no longer pretend anymore that something had changed in how he saw Nadira. The anguish in knowing he cannot have her. She wanted to see him twisted with jealousy.

Because breaking bad people was easy.

They expected betrayal.

But breaking good people?

Watching them struggle against their own hearts while trying desperately to do the right thing?

That was an art form.

And Liora had always appreciated a beautiful tragedy. “Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

She drained the glass.