The Syndicate's Ghost: Don's Forgotten Queen

Harper's POV:

The tide spat me out on a deserted stretch of sand, a broken thing made of seaweed and grief. The hatred in my chest was the only thing keeping me warm. It was a living entity, a parasite feeding on the last of my soul.

I lay there for what felt like hours, until a figure blocked the pale morning sun.

Kasey.

She looked down at me, her expression pure, venomous pleasure. She shoved her phone in my face. It was a video. Eli, sitting on a hospital bed, holding a smiling, healthy-looking Cody in his lap. They were laughing.

"He's a good father, isn't he?" Kasey purred. "He'll do anything for his son."

She knelt beside me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a final, soul-destroying truth meant only for me.

"You know, we never actually scattered the ashes at sea," she said, her smile widening at my confusion. "That was just for show. To break you."

The words were static, a language I couldn't comprehend.

"I took care of them myself," she continued, her voice dripping with sadistic glee. "Personally. I flushed your son's remains down a toilet at the marina. Swirled him around and watched him go. I washed you out of this family for good."

A wave of nausea so profound it buckled me in half. The sound that tore from my throat was not human.

The hatred was a lodestone, pulling me back to the penthouse. I don't remember the journey, only the single, burning purpose that propelled my numb limbs forward. The sound of Eli's laughter echoing from Cody's room sent a fresh wave of bile rising in my throat.

Kasey was there, waiting for me. The moment I crossed the threshold, Kasey, who had been waiting, let out a theatrical gasp and crumpled to the floor, clutching her leg and screaming.

"Harper, no! You pushed me!"

Cody, cued by her cry, scrambled into the room. He didn't run to her. He ran at me, his small hands clawing at my face. Then, with a chillingly deliberate movement, he threw himself backward, hitting his head hard on the corner of a large ceramic planter. He started to wail.

"She's trying to kill us!" Kasey shrieked, scrambling away from me as if fleeing for her life. "Eli! Help!"

Eli appeared in the doorway. He looked at Kasey, cowering on the floor. He looked at his son, crying with a trickle of blood on his forehead. Then he looked at me, my face scratched, my clothes still damp and sandy, my eyes hollow with a truth he would never believe.

His expression hardened into pure disgust.

He didn't say a word to me. He walked past me, swept Kasey into his arms, and carried her into the master bedroom. Our bedroom.

He kicked the door shut behind him.

But not before Kasey looked over his shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. She gave me a slow, triumphant smile.