His Loss Twisted into His Theater

I laughed sharply, silencing them.

My mother, Penelope Cole, had a trust fund with annual interest that could buy the Waltons' crumbling empire ten times over. Their business only survived because I'd quietly funneled money to cover their debts.

A childhood kidnapping left me with scars, so Penelope made me hide my identity.

Oblivious, Herbert took my money to shower Ella with gifts, then turned around and mocked me.

Neither of them had a shred of shame.

"Trash me as you like," I snapped. "I won't let you insult my mom!"

"Are you threatening me?" Herbert scoffed, unfazed. "Let me be straight. Her death is just the cherry on top for Ella's big opening."

His friends hooted, "Man, tonight is the main event. We gotta test that new theme."

Herbert glanced at me and waved at his bodyguards. "For running her mouth, Caroline is going to be our new prop."

I kicked and clawed as they dragged me to a lab-themed room and strapped me to a cold steel table.

Ella strutted in, brandishing a massive syringe. "Welcome to my haunted lab! Ready for a scream-worthy live experiment?"

The crowd roared with laughter. "This is gold! I'm streaming it live. The opening is going to be a hit!"

My phone buzzed relentlessly in my coat, the interruption getting under Herbert's skin.

He ripped it out, pausing when "Chairman Cole" flashed on the screen, then smashed it against my forehead.

"Climbing the social ladder, huh?" he sneered.

Ella poked his chest, smirking. "A chairman? Girl, you're two-timing my buddy with some crusty old suit? Bet you're staging this to scam cash and run off with him."

She stepped closer, drawing a vial of sickly green liquid from a prop container. "Time to fix this skank."

Herbert egged her on, practically bouncing with excitement. "Genius! Strip her down, cage her up, and let the guests gawk."

Ella lunged, aiming the needle at my neck.

...

I snapped the ropes, thanks to those escape training sessions, and jammed the syringe into her hand.

"My hand! Oh my God!" she screamed, her skin sizzling and smoking.

Her friends stumbled back, horrified. "What the hell? It's not a prop. Is that acid?"

Herbert panicked, cradling Ella before spinning to slap me. "Bitch, how dare you hurt her? Get on your knees and beg, or your mom's ashes are landfill bait!"

Just then, commotion erupted at the entrance.

A hospital worker rushed in, breathless. "Professor Walton, we called a hundred times and tracked your phone. The patient was counting on your antidote, but on the way..."

He sighed, "She's gone. We brought her body for you to handle."

"Like a cockroach that won't stay dead," Herbert snorted.

"They brought the body?" Ella screeched. "Perfect! A real corpse for a prop."

The crowd laughed. "A real body? Man, that's legendary!"

"It stinks, though." Herbert pinched his nose and kicked the body off the stretcher. "Bad luck! Can't even die quietly."