"Hey, Little Mouse!" I heard my dad's voice through the receiver, and my heart instantly felt lighter. "I've got great news! Can you make it home for the weekend? I really want to introduce you to someone."
"Dad, don't tell me you finally found someone?" I asked, genuinely thrilled.
My father had been alone for a long time. Mom passed away when I was only twelve, and since then, he hadn't shown interest in anyone but me and anything but his business—he owned a small meat processing plant and a steakhouse. After high school, I moved to Chicago for college, leaving him all by himself in that big, empty house.
I had tried to nudge him toward finding a nice woman many times, but he'd just laugh and say all the good ones were taken, or that there would never be another woman like my mother. That's why this phone call caught me so off guard.
"Her name is Marina. She's a widow," Dad explained enthusiastically. "We met when she came into the restaurant to apply for a manager position..."
"I see! So you two have common interests," I noted. "Is she beautiful? Sorry, that's a silly question. If she weren't gorgeous, you wouldn't have looked twice at her, right?"
"I'm hoping she'll rub some of her good taste off on you," Dad chuckled. "Anyway, see you soon!"
Naturally, I couldn't wait for the weekend. I was dying to see what kind of woman had managed to capture my guarded father's heart. Maybe she was like my mom.
On Saturday morning, I walked through the front door and shouted happily, "Hello? Dad, I'm home!"
But instead of my father, a blonde bombshell about five years older than me drifted out of the living room.
"Excuse me, what are you doing here?" I asked, stunned.
"Are you Maya?" She looked me up and down without a shred of manners.
"I am. And who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" I repeated.
"I'm Marina. Didn't your father tell you about me?" she smirked.
"He might have mentioned something," I said with a heavy sigh, heading toward my room. "Where is he, anyway?"
"Out grocery shopping." She went back to nonchalantly filing her nails.
This is a nightmare, I thought. Dad must have lost his mind or his eyesight. Who on earth did he bring into this house? I felt an immediate, visceral dislike for her. Oh, we're going to have nothing but trouble with this one.
***
After unpacking, I went down to the kitchen, where Marina was meticulously painting her nails a blood-red color.
Making herself right at home, I see, I fumed silently.
I brewed myself a cup of coffee and decided to try and engage her.
"So, I heard you're a widow. What happened to your husband?" I didn't bother being polite.
Marina studied her nails for a full minute. She blew on them, inspected them again, and finally answered, "Heart attack."
"Terrible for such a young man to die of a heart attack, isn't it?" I said, offering no sympathy.
"He was fifty-five," Marina clarified.
"Oh? I see you have a thing for older men."
"You could say that. I've never been interested in immature boys who don't know the first thing about life," she smirked with a clear sense of superiority.
"And I suppose it helps that they don't have any money either," I added snidely.
"Your words, not mine," she said, playing the innocent.
"It sounds like you're doing your best to set yourself up for life," I continued.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." She fluttered her mascara-laden lashes in mock offense.
"Nothing. I'm just trying to get to know you. I want to understand who my father is trusting. He's all I have, and I have to look out for him."
"Don't you worry. I'll be the one looking out for him now."
At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to grab her by the hair. It was impossible to believe my dad could fall for this predator.
Just then, the front door opened, and Marina and I practically raced to the foyer. Of course, the little vixen got there first. She threw her arms around my dad's neck, pecked him on the cheek, and purred, "Honey! We have a guest..."
"A guest?!" I scoffed. "I didn't realize I was a 'guest' in my own home, Dad."
"Mouse, what are you talking about?" Dad frowned. "This is your home too, and it always will be. Marina didn't mean it like that. Come here and give me a hug."
Pushing past that woman—who looked quite annoyed by it—he pulled me into a hug.
"I missed you so much!"
"Missed you too, Dad."
"David, take the bags to the kitchen," Marina ordered, barely masking her irritation. "I'll get lunch started."
I wonder what she's serving, I thought bitterly. Probably just reheating soup and leftovers from the restaurant.
"Do you need help?" I asked aloud, though the last thing I wanted was to be stuck in a kitchen with her.
"Mouse, you should just relax," Dad intervened, clearly sensing that there wasn't a drop of chemistry between me and his new flame.
I was wrong about lunch—it was actually quite good. However, throughout the meal, Marina acted like a cat, rubbing up against my father, kissing him, and stroking his arm until I thought my teeth would crack from grinding them. I could feel that there wasn't an ounce of sincerity in her, but how could I tell my father? He was clearly head over heels.
"Mouse, I have something to tell you," Dad said, smiling bashfully. "Marina and I have decided to get married. The wedding is in a month."
He's lost it. The news hit me like a physical blow.
"A month? Why the rush?" I looked at Marina suspiciously.
"No, I'm not pregnant," she said, answering the unasked question. "Not yet, anyway," she added meaningfully.
"Well... congratulations."
Barely holding back tears of rage, I got up from the table and retreated to my room.
"Can I come in?" Three minutes later, Dad knocked and sat down beside me. "Mouse, Marina is a wonderful, gentle, wise woman."
"Who's interested in your money," I snapped.
"Oh, come on!" Dad said, looking hurt. "Are you saying I have nothing to offer on my own? That I can only be loved for my bank account? Thanks a lot."
"Dad, that's not what I meant. I'm just worried. Plus, she's young enough to be your daughter!" I tried to reason with him. "How long has she been a widow?"
"Six months..."
"See? She didn't spend much time mourning her husband, did she?"
"You're being unfair!" he protested. "Marina took his death very hard. She needed a shoulder to lean on. She's fragile... Don't worry, honey, she's a great girl. And if she wants to build a life for herself, that's only natural."
Dad sighed heavily, and I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Maybe I was just being jealous.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Maybe I'm being too hard on her. I just love you so much, Dad."
"I love you too."
***
A month later, Marina became my stepmother. My feelings toward her didn't change. To avoid upsetting my father with our constant friction, I started visiting less often. For obvious reasons, she didn't exactly miss me.
So, when I heard her voice on the phone one morning, I was immediately alarmed.
"Did something happen to Dad?" I asked, forcing myself to be civil.
"Maya... your father just had a heart attack. He's gone," Marina sobbed.
"What?! But he was perfectly healthy!" I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"He died this morning, during breakfast. The paramedics didn't get here in time." She broke down in tears, and for a split second, I actually felt sorry for her.
"I'm coming right away," I replied as gently as I could.
***
Nothing in my childhood home had changed, except for the fact that my father wasn't there anymore.
"Lately, he'd been complaining about his health... saying his blood pressure was acting up, but he refused to see a doctor. Kept saying it would pass on its own," Marina told me. "This morning he was fine, eating breakfast with an appetite, and then suddenly he just collapsed..." She dabbed at her dry eyes with a tissue. "This is the second time! It's like there's a curse on me!"
A very convenient curse, I thought angrily. Aloud, I asked, "And your first husband? How long were you married to him?"
Instantly dropping the act of the grieving widow, she shot me a cold look. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing," I shrugged. "Unless it's a secret?"
"There's no secret," she snapped. "He died three months after the wedding."
"A curse? Or did you kill him? Him and my father?" I couldn't pretend anymore. "All for the money!"
"How dare you?!" Marina started sobbing again, but her acting failed her this time; her eyes were hard and watchful. "I loved him!"
What a performer, I thought with disgust.
"You think I'm buying this fairy tale?" I scoffed. "Did my father leave a will? How much did you get?"
"He took care of you," she countered. "The company will go to me, obviously. I've been in the industry for a while and I know how to run things. You'll receive a portion of the profits... and the house was left to both of us. I'd love for you to visit..."
"I doubt you'll be seeing me here," I said, wanting to tear her apart.
"There's no need to fight," she said, putting on a friendly face that I didn't believe for a second. I had no doubt she was responsible for Dad's death. "What are you going to prove? To whom?" She gave a condescending smirk. "The cause of death was officially ruled a heart attack."
I locked myself in my room, collapsed onto the bed, and finally let the tears flow as the weight of my loss hit me: I had no one left in the world.
***
The funeral was two days later. My stepmother put on a very convincing performance of a heartbroken widow. I stayed as far away from her as possible, terrified I'd lose control and cause a scene. The wake was held at my father's restaurant.
"David was a wonderful man, and I am so grateful for the time we had together. Those few months changed my life. I felt loved and happy. My husband will always be in my heart!" Marina theatrically pressed a lace handkerchief to her eyes, cutting her eulogy short. Unable to stomach the cheap drama, I bolted from the table and hid in the restroom.
I didn't want anyone to see me breaking down. Once I'd composed myself and splashed some water on my face, I started to head back out, but then I heard Marina's voice. She was smoking just outside the restroom window with some overdressed woman.
"I can't believe you! You're acting like a total idiot..." It sounded like my stepmother was giving the woman a lesson in life. "Why the hell are you wasting time with a guy and getting nothing out of it? Your husband is sitting on a pile of cash and giving you peanuts! Get rid of the idiot!"
"And how am I supposed to do that?" the woman scoffed. "Yours died of a heart attack, but mine is healthy as a horse!"
"Mine was perfectly healthy too," Marina lowered her voice, and I held my breath to catch every word. "I know how to speed up the process..."
After that, she dropped to a whisper, and I couldn't hear a thing.
"I don't want to go to prison!" the woman gasped a moment later.
"Shut up, you moron!" Marina hissed. "It'll go perfectly smooth, just like it did for me. Just let me know if you change your mind..."
My heart was pounding like a drum. I left the restaurant and drove straight to the police station, where I told them everything—the conversation I'd overheard and all of my suspicions.
Things moved very quickly after that. Marina was detained on suspicion of murder. I demanded an exhumation of my father's body for a toxicology report, and I was right. The tests revealed a lethal dose of a chemical compound commonly used in industrial meat processing. As it turned out, the same substance was found in the body of Marina's first husband.
The first court hearing is coming up soon. I only hope the court shows that snake as much mercy as she showed my father.
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