Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

  "You're dead. You know that don't you?" The corner of my lip curls up in derision. She's been dead for a long time. I've just been biding my time.

  "You... can't." She stammers.

  "Oh, really?" I ask ironically, and my fingers dig into her skin, stopping her airflow.

  "Papa?" A tiny voice stops me dead in my tracks.

  I turn around and watch with horror as my son steps into the room, his face full of worry.

  "What are you doing to mamma?"

  I immediately release her, and she staggers to her feet.

  "Your mamma and I were just having a grown-up conversation." I explain to him, side-eyeing her to keep her mouth shut.

  She was saved just now.

  But not for long.

  "Why don't you go to bed, Luca? I'll come read you a story in a few minutes." I urge him out of the room, and luckily he listens.

  When he's out of sight, I turn back to face her—the bane of my existence.

  She struggles to stand up, and she snickers at me.

  "Can't kill me, can you? What will you tell your son?" She has a smug look on her face, convinced that Luca would save her.

  Oh, how wrong she is.

  "The truth." I take a few steps towards her. "That his mother was a fucking whore and a traitor to boot." I lie. Ah, I guess she's never figured out that I know who she actually is.

  Her confidence disappears, and she instinctively falls down, her ass hitting the floor with a resounding thud. She drags herself backwards, her eyes wildly seeking an exit.

  "I think he'd rather judge me for not killing you sooner." A cruel smile stretches on my face.

  One more step. Just one more step. And she's dead.

  "Really?" She drawls, her face morphing from fear to confidence. "You shouldn't have sent him to his room. Now you're going to be responsible for his death."

  Her words stop me dead in my tracks.

  "What do you mean?" I don't bother to hide the sudden terror in my voice. After all Luca is where I draw the line.

  "Let's just say that I didn't come only for the family silver," she comments, smugly lifting her hand up to show me a small remote control.

  I narrow my eyes at it and it slowly dawns on me what she means.

  No... No...

  I take a step back, and another, and then I'm running towards Luca's room at full speed. I burst through the door and I grab him, holding him tightly to my chest just before a loud noise erupts from the side of his bed, the explosion powerful enough to propel me forward, but weak enough to be contained to his room only.

  "It's ok, Luca. Papa's here." I brush my hand across his face, kissing his cheeks and whispering calming words.

  Fucking hell!

  I underestimated Chiara, and that's on me. But the next time we cross paths I'll show her just how much she can push me until I become her very own personified nightmare.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  SCROLLING DOWN ON MY tablet, I scoff when I realize that all these torture methods require a lot of instruments that I have no way of procuring. Because Chiara deserves the best, and I aim to give her just that.

  She'll finally pay for what she's done to me, and I will relish watching her pain as the life drains from her body.

  "Miss, what is that?" Lia's face blanches in horror as she catches a glimpse of the image on my tablet. Her hands move to make the sign of the cross, and I refrain from rolling my eyes.

  Lia is too innocent for her own good.

  "This," I start, angling the screen so she can have a better view, "is a Sicilian bull." I explain that it was used in ancient times to slowly toast people to death.

  Since burning alive might just be one of the most painful ways to go, I'll have to think how to use it to my advantage, given that I'm not exactly swimming in resources.

  There's just one tiny problem — no one knows where Chiara is.

  Lia had given me a rundown of what had happened with Enzo's sister, after which Chiara had promptly disappeared. It's been close to two months since anyone's seen her and that affects me in more ways than one — I can't fulfill my revenge, but I also can't impersonate her to visit Luca.

  My poor baby boy. It's been too long since I last saw him and it's been killing me slowly. I know that at the end of it all we'll be together, and that's the only thing keeping me going. But until then...

  I pull up some photos I'd taken of him and I smile as I look upon his sweet face.

  Soon.

  But not soon enough.

  "Do you think you could get me a strong radiator in here?" I turn to her, suddenly thinking of something.

  "Maybe, why..." Her eyes widen as she realizes my purpose. "Don't tell me you..."

  "Please. If you can." I add, batting my lashes softly at her.

  "I'll see what I can do," she reluctantly agrees. I nod, giving her my thanks.

  Now I just have to think how to lure Chiara.

  Narrowing my eyes as I sift through ideas, I get out of bed to look through the stuff I'd taken from my father's house. Maybe it had been my curiosity, but I wanted to see just what they had traded my life for. I'd taken a few electronics — including a phone — and notebooks. So far nothing had stuck out, but it's also because the devices are all locked and I've been unsuccessful in figuring out the passwords.

  Taking out the phone, I power it on and I start thinking again of different combinations. I only have a few tries before it gets locked and then I have to wait again.

  I'd already tried everything birthday related, and that had been a complete bust. I add in a few more combinations, all of them wrong.

  One more try.

  It's not as if I have anything to lose at this point. I'll just try again tomorrow.

  I think back to all my interactions with my father as I rack my brain about any clues. Then there's also the night I finally killed him, and God... I think I'm sick because I don't think I've ever enjoyed anything as much as smashing my own father to pieces.

  There's a certain freedom and bringing down the axe to cut my connections to my past life — literally.

  The blood, the way his face had been frozen in terror, his pupils the only part of his body still able to move.

  And he'd just watched.

  He watched, helpless, as I cut through his skin, as I reached bone only to get a bigger knife and smash it all to pieces. He'd been alive long enough to see his destroyed rib-cage, his heart visible through the mess.

  And like the sick bitch that I am, because I don't think anyone related to them is normal in any way, I'd watched transfixed as his degenerate heart pumped once, twice, until it didn't have the strength to anymore — the wreckage of his body leading to his fall.

  It had been such an intoxicating experience, almost addictive in a way.

  Is it like this for Enzo, too? When he takes a life?

  Maybe I'd been too quick to judge him in the past, since from my self-righteous holier-than-thou seat he'd looked like the bad guy. But is there really such a thing as a bad guy? Isn't it all just perspective?

  Maybe now that my hands are a little blood stained I can understand his perspective better.

  Sometimes you have to take the plunge and risk being the bad guy.

  Although I can sympathize with his role better, that doesn't make him any less of a cheating wastrel.

  Getting annoyed at the mere thought of Enzo, I return my attention to the phone, plugging it one date but not expecting it to work.

  "What..." my eyes widen in shock as I see the screen light up, the apps loading.

  It worked.

  The day my father took my sister's virginity is the password. Not only is this disgusting, but now I have to wonder just what type of sick relationship they had all these years.

  Pushing that off my mind, I start navigating the phone's menu, noticing a lot of missed calls from a certain number. There are also hundreds of messages from the same number.

  Maybe...

  I start going throug
h all of them and soon it's clear who the sender is. And Chiara doesn't seem to know that our father is dead.

  "Jackpot," I whisper to myself.

  I guess I finally have the way to lure her in.

  I quickly get to work, studying their text pattern so I can imitate it before I start sending out small texts, pretending father is under duress. Soon a whole thread of conversations begins, and my plan is officially in motion.

  AFTER DAYS OF FAKE conversations with Chiara, everything is set up for the trap. I'd thought about all the details, including the aftermath and how I'd catch Enzo unawares.

  "Don't worry, Lia. I'll be able to handle her." I tell her as I try to convince her to leave. "Please, just remember what you promised me. Not a word to Enzo about whether I am alive or not." I add as I watch her head to the door.

  "Yes, but still. I don't feel good about this, Miss."

  "Everything will be fine. Chiara will finally get what she deserves and soon I will be free," I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and imagining the future that awaits me.

  "But Signor Enzo..." she trails off, unsure.

  "He won't even know what hit him. And I'd like to keep it like this."

  It takes a little more cajoling, but I finally get her to leave.

  I'd planned everything, from Chiara's death to how I'd make it seem like it was me who died here — everything to catch Enzo when he least expects it, drive a knife through his treacherous heart and get my baby with me.

  If it weren't for Luca, I would simply disappear after I'm done with Chiara, never to be spotted again. But seeing as my baby is my only purpose, there's just one more huddle — my husband.

  It's almost midnight, and everyone's gone home for the night. I'd asked Lia to get rid of the people tasked with my care, and somehow she's managed that.

  Now I just wait.

  I'd simply planted the idea in Chiara's mind that her sister isn't actually dead, but is in a coma. I'd also given her the exact location, knowing she'd come here to kill me once and for all.

  But this time I won't be weakened by birth, nor will I be naïve enough to not see her scheming from a mile away.

  No, this time she's walking into my trap and she'll be playing by my rules.

  I quickly get in bed, hooking myself to the machines and waiting for Chiara to arrive. Her tongue had been very loose with daddy dearest, and she'd spilled absolutely everything she wanted to do to me — as well as the time she'd do that.

  So I just wait.

  Because I'd timed everything according to plan, I don't have to linger in bed much longer. The door to the salon opens up slowly, and I know exactly who it is.

  She locks the door behind her — like I knew she would — and she steps forward. Holding my eyes closed, I rely on my ears to listen to her every move.

  She checks the machines before settling right next to my bed.

  "Fucking bitch, you have nine lives or what?" She snickers, her hands going for the monitors. I hear the beeping as she plays with the settings, thinking they'll cause me harm.

  Of course the impulse would be to disconnect me from every machine, and that's exactly what she does after she realizes she can't figure how the monitors work. She proceeds to strip the wires from my body in a hurry, almost as if she can't wait to see me die.

  We might meet in hell, sister!

  When she's done, she takes a step back, waiting.

  But then she realizes that I'm still breathing, so the only other option is to smother me with a pillow. Classic, right?

  Well, we must have watched the same telenovelas because that's exactly what she tries to do.

  The moment the pillow is on my face, I swiftly move my hand, injecting her with a sedative. No sooner does the needle pierce her skin than I push against her until she's on the floor.

  The sedative is quick to act, and her movements are sluggish as she stares in horror at me.

  "Surprised? Sister?" I ask in the same smug tone she'd used right before she'd smashed my face against the table.

  With her restricted movements, she tries to escape me by dragging herself on the floor. I measure my steps so I'm slowly advancing, making her feel the fear tenfold.

  "What? Cat got your tongue?" I raise an eyebrow at her, lifting her chin with my thumb.

  "Fuck you," she spits at me, and I turn my head to the side just in time to avoid it.

  "Well, I think now it's my turn to say that, isn't it?" My smile grows wider just as her eyes show more fear.

  Noticing there's no way out, not with the sedative in her system, she starts laughing nervously.

  "So what if you're alive? No one wants you! Why do you think it was so easy to replace you? Not even your husband or your brat know who I am."

  "Are you so sure?" I cock my head, my voice grounded. She's the one with no escape and I won't let her rattle me.

  "Who do you think brought me here?" I ask, and the realization is right there on her face. "Ah, you're putting things together, aren't you? Enzo's known from the very beginning."

  "Really?" Her mouth morphs into a vicious line, "I'm sure he knew when he was fucking me, calling me by your name."

  Did I really expect her not to say that?

  "Don't waste your breath, it's not like I'm going to believe anything that comes out of your mouth, anyway." I tell her, getting up and moving back to the bed.

  "You should know, though," I stop, half-turning, "that both mother and father are dead."

  Her eyes widen at the statement so I give her a beaming smile "It sure was nice to make them bleed. Now for you..."

  "You?" She asks incredulously.

  I just nod, stripping the bed of the bedding and pillow until it's only the metal frame. Luckily, this bed's frame doesn't have any empty spaces, so it will be lovely for darling Chiara.

  After I throw everything to the ground, I turn back to her.

  I'm relaxed, even though something is simmering in my veins — that taste of revenge I'm finally going to have. But it's so exquisite I can't rush into it.

  I need to savor it. Take my time.

  Chiara is propped against the wall, already out of it. I take her by her arms and I drag her to the bed, tying her hands and feet at each end with barbed wire.

  Then I wait.

  She comes awake a couple hours later, and I'm halfway through my chapter. I quickly read the last sentence before putting the bookmark inside and turning my attention to my sister.

  "What..." she stammers when she sees the situation she's in.

  I take a seat next to her, ready for what's next but not quite.

  "I know about you and Leonardo," I state, refusing to acknowledge that bastard as my father anymore.

  "What do you think you know?" She answers back belligerently.

  Does she even have any other mood but aggression? I don't think we've had a normal conversation in our lives. All of them had been her yelling at me, or accusing me of something and getting me in trouble.

  "That you fucked?" I ask amused.

  "Yeah, sure, we fucked, so what?" She rolls her eyes at me.

  "So what? Chiara, I may have never liked you, but that's fucked up. You were fourteen!" I say, slightly outraged. I may kill her slowly and painfully over the next few hours, but that doesn't mean I don't recognize that what Leonardo did to her was plain wrong.

  "So? I went to him. I knew what I was getting into."

  "You were fourteen," I repeat, still in awe that she thinks it was normal.

  "It's not like I hadn't watch him fuck others before. I was curious." There's no emotion on her face as she admits it, and I just shake my head.

  My parents didn't just fail me. They failed her too.

  "I feel sorry for you," I add, "but not sorry enough to forget everything you've done to me."

  "What, you're going to smother me with a pillow too?" She mocks me, laughing derisively at me even though she's currently completely immobilized.

  "No, it will be much, much worse." I te
ll her before stuffing her mouth with a cloth.

  What I have in mind will have her screaming in pain.

  Putting some wires on her chest I watch one monitor came to life with her pulse. Then, taking a step back, I use a remote control to activate the radiator under the bed. Moving my chair next to the window and away from the bed, I just wait.

  The red heat of the radiator is right below the metallic frame of the bed — a prime conductor for heat.

  It takes some time until the iron of the bed heats up, and Chiara starts moving around on the bed, trying to lift herself up so she's not in direct contact with the hot metal.

  Tears are gathered at the corner of her eyes as she can't hold herself up anymore, falling onto the hot bed, her throat clogging up with screams that won't come out.

  The smell of burned flesh is already in the air, and I simply watch as the skin on her back starts to melt, some of it even flowing down — a mix of red and yellow that almost makes me blink twice in disgust.

  She's still thrashing against the hold, her skin red with heat and effort and hopelessness as the bed keeps on getting hotter.

  The odor coming from her melted skin is making me sick, and I open the window a little, still in my spot. I can't afford to miss this after I've been planning it for so long.

  At some point, Chiara stops moving. I move closer to see there still a pulse. It's very faint, but it's there.

  I stop the radiator and wait.

  A few more hours, and Chiara is up again, her pulse spiking with her awakening. I push the button, and the radiators start again.

  Her throat must be sore and bleeding by now, since she's been trying to scream against her muffle the entire time.

  But as I watch more skin melt off her body, some turning black from being over burned on the surface of the bed, while other trickles of blood and fat fall on to the floor.

  I don't stop the radiators this time, letting them run at the highest temperature until the entire portion of her back is red and gnarly, bone visible through the blistery skin.

  The monitor, too, stops picking up her pulse. Finally, I go near her, clipping her restraints with a pair of pliers, the metal malleable enough to give way at the first tug. I get rid of those so that there's nothing odd when the authorities discover her body. Then I round the bed and pick up the bedding and pillows, throwing them on top of her and watching as the material clings to the burned flesh, sticking together to create an even worse smell.