He Chose The Mistress, Losing His True Queen

Ellery POV

The air in the basement shop in Queens smelled of ozone and stale neglect.

This was not the kind of place Mrs. Brendan Wiggins visited.

I tugged at the hem of the hoodie and jeans I had purchased with cash at a Goodwill three towns over.

The man behind the counter, a jittery forger named Sal, slid a manila envelope across the scratched glass.

"June Bennett," he said, grinning to reveal a row of rotting teeth. "Born in Ohio. No criminal record. Clean credit history. It’s a work of art, lady."

I didn't smile.

I slid a brick of cash across the counter.

"If anyone asks, you never saw me," I said.

Sal thumbed through the bills with practiced speed.

"For this much, I don't even see myself in the mirror."

I took the envelope and left, dissolving into the anonymity of the crowded street.

My heart battered against my ribs.

I was committing treason against the Syndicate.

If Brendan found out, he wouldn't just kill me.

He would lock me in the estate's west wing and leave me there until I turned to dust.

I took three different taxis to get to Evans' lab in the Meatpacking District.

It was disguised as a defunct veterinary clinic.

Evans was waiting for me in the sub-basement.

The room was white, sterile, and bitingly cold.

A metal chair with heavy leather restraints sat in the center.

It looked like an electric chair.

"Is this it?" I asked.

Evans nodded, his face drained of color.

"This is the machine that induces the neuro-chemical flood," he explained, tapping a console. "It targets the hippocampus and the amygdala. It essentially dissolves the synaptic pathways associated with episodic memory. You will keep your semantic memory—you will know how to speak, how to drive, how to use a fork. But the story of your life? Gone."

"Will it hurt?" I asked.

"Excruciatingly," he said.

"Good," I said. "Burn it out."

"You have to be sure, Ellery," Evans said, grabbing my shoulders. "Once I push that plunger, there is no going back. You won't know who Brendan is. You won't know he is dangerous. You will be a sheep walking into a world of wolves."

"I have a plan for that," I said, patting the pocket where I had stashed a notebook. "I wrote instructions for June."

He looked at me with pity.

"Why?" he asked. "Why not just run?"

"Because he would find me," I said. "He would tear the world apart to find Ellery Rich. But if Ellery Rich doesn't exist... if there is no recognition in my eyes when he finds me... he loses."

It was the only way to win against a narcissist like Brendan.

To deny him the satisfaction of my fear.

To deny him the satisfaction of my memory.

I checked my watch.

I had to be home in an hour to dress for dinner.

Brendan was bringing the Capos over.

I had to play the perfect hostess.

I touched the cold metal of the chair.

"See you Thursday, Evans."

I walked out of the lab and back into the sunlight.

I hailed a cab and gave the address of the fortress.

When I walked through the front door, Brendan was waiting in the foyer.

"Where were you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "The tracker on your car said you were in Queens."

I felt a spike of adrenaline, sharp and cold.

"I went to that antique shop you hate," I lied smoothly. "The one with the vintage lamps. I wanted to find something for the study."

His face relaxed.

He bought it.

Because in his mind, I was simple.

I was domestic.

I was June Cleaver with a black card.

He walked over and kissed my forehead.

"Next time, take a guard," he said. "Queens isn't safe."

I suppressed a dark laugh.

The only unsafe thing in my life was standing right in front of me, wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit.

"I will, darling," I said.

I walked past him up the stairs.

Every step was a countdown.

Three days.