Page 54 of Queen of Vice

"I have to go now," he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. "When you're done, have your friends come in and join you for breakfast. I'll be back by lunch."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and the weight of the necklace now hanging around my neck.

My gaze drifted to his desk, curiosity, and dread battling for dominance as I wondered what he could have possibly left for me that would bring me closer to my sister.

Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t going to bring any comfort. I fingered the necklace Mateo had just placed around my neck, the weight of it heavy, both physically and emotionally. The cold metal pressed against my skin, a constant reminder of the chains that were tightening around me. His control, his presence—it was all-consuming, and I could feel it with every step I took toward the desk.

I tried to block out the scattered remnants of Eva’s life that lay strewn across the polished wood. Lipstick, lotion, blood-stained cash—each item was a piece of her that I had lost long before she went missing. My focus was on the bag itself, the last tangible connection to my sister, not on the grim evidence of what she had been involved in.

As I lifted the bag, a wave of her favorite perfume enveloped me. It was so strong, so achingly familiar, that for a moment, I could almost pretend she was there with me. I could hear her voice, her laughter—see her eyes sparkling with mischief as she shared some secret. The scent was like a cruel reminder of what I had lost, of the sister I once knew, now reduced to this—an empty bag and a thousand unanswered questions.

I clenched my eyes shut, willing myself not to break down, not to give in to the overwhelming grief and anger that threatened to consume me. But when I opened them again, reality slammed into me with a force that took my breath away.

That’s when I noticed it—a thin tablet lying face down on the desk, partially hidden beneath the other items.

It hadn’t been visible before, or maybe I just hadn’t seen it in my haste to reclaim somepiece of Eva. But now, there it was, impossible to ignore, stark against the wood.

My hand trembled as I reached for it, my mind racing with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. What was on it? What had Mateo left for me? My heart pounded in my chest, the uncertainty gnawing at my resolve.

I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to know. But I had no choice. Whatever was on that tablet, it was part of this twisted game Mateo was playing. And I was the unwilling participant, trapped in a web of secrets and lies.

With a deep breath, I picked it up, my fingers brushing over the smooth surface, dreading what I might find, but knowing I had to see. I had to know. Because even if it shattered me, even if it tore apart the last threads of hope I was clinging to, it was better than being left in the dark.

There was a passcode on the tablet, a small barrier between me and whatever truth Mateowanted to reveal. My mind raced as I considered the possibilities. Since he had left it for me about Eva, I decided to try something personal, something that might link us together even in this twisted game—our birth year. I typed it in with trembling fingers, half-expecting it to be wrong, but the screen unlocked with a soft click.

The background was nothing special, just a basic preinstalled image that told me nothing. There were no apps visible, no clues as to what this tablet was hiding. Confused, I tapped on the browser, hoping it might offer some answers, but it wasn’t connected to Wi-Fi. Another dead end.

That left one last place to check—images. My heart pounded as I opened the gallery, a feeling of dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever I was about to see, and then I tapped the icon.

The first image filled the screen, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush. There she was—Eva, vibrant and alive, staring back at me through the screen. She looked just as I remembered, her smile wide and carefree, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the city she had loved so much. My heart twisted painfully in my chest. For a moment, it was as if she was still here, still the sister I had lost long before she disappeared.

The next few images were more of the same—Eva with some girlfriends, laughing and posing for the camera. They were snapshots of her life; of the world she had chosen over the one we had shared. It was a world I had never fully understood, one that had ultimately taken her away from me.

Then I swiped to the next image, and my breath caught in my throat.

There, with his arm draped casually around Eva, was the man whose severed hand Mateo had sent me. His face was unmistakable, hiseyes dark and unreadable as he stared into the camera, oblivious to the fate that awaited him. My sister stood beside him, her smile just as bright, completely unaware of the darkness that loomed around her.

I hesitated before swiping again, a cold dread settling over me. The images so far had been painful, but nothing I couldn’t handle. But I knew Mateo—he wouldn’t have left this tablet for me just to show me happy memories. There was something else, something I wasn’t going to be ready for.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering the strength I needed to face whatever came next. When I opened them again, I swiped to the next image, steeling myself for the worst.

And then I saw it.

He looked like Mateo.

The resemblance was so striking that, for a split second, I thought it was him. My heart stuttered the idea that my sister had been withthe same man who now claimed me as his own too much to comprehend.

But then, as I studied the image more closely, I noticed the subtle differences—the few silver hairs threading through the man's dark locks, the lines etched into his skin that spoke of years Mateo hadn’t yet lived. And then there was the thick wedding band glinting on his finger, a stark contrast to the way those same fingers gripped Eva’s naked hips with possessive intimacy.

I felt bile rise in my throat as I realized what I was looking at. Eva had taken this photo herself, capturing their reflection in a mirror on the ceiling of whatever fancy hotel room they were in. The entire scene was grotesque in its casualness, the way it turned something deeply private into something flaunted, something to be captured and kept. The reflection was almost artful, but it was nothing more than a twisted trophy of the life my sister had been living, a life I never truly knew.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image. It was disturbing in ways I didn’t have the words to express, a sickening violation of everything I thought I understood about my sister. I had known she was wild, that she had embraced the chaos of the city in ways I never could, but this? This was different. This was dark and dangerous, a world far removed from the one we had grown up in.

The man in the picture, so eerily similar to Mateo, felt like a warning—a sign that my sister had been caught up in something far more sinister than I had ever imagined. And the fact that she had taken this photo herself, that she had been a willing participant in whatever was happening, made it all the more horrifying.

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen. Part of me wanted to stop, to throw the tablet away and pretend I had never seen any of this. But I knew I couldn’t.

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