VIRAGO

Guilt or giddy?

It was nearing 5 or 6 in the morning, and everything was still so quiet, the air still carried the fragrance of night although the first rays of the sun had begun to peak over the edge of London's rooftops, which were still bathed in frost and mist. 

Despite this early hour, Zoey sat comfortably on her balcony with a glass of white wine and a lit cigarette. She still remained in last night's dress from the wedding she had attended with her husband and his family. She hadn't slept although it was most likely because she was one of the last to return home. The reason for this was that she had committed an act that could not be undone. 

You see, a few days prior she had received word from Mr. Shelby and the two had come to a fair arrangement. After that she no longer needed to wait, the perfect window was her stepdaughter's wedding. Now I know what you are probably thinking, how can one commit a discreet murder during such a celebration? Well, simply it was not a murder. But more of a push in the right direction. It wasn't common knowledge but those who lived in close proximity to Tony Sabini knew he favored the taste of morphine much more than red wine, because of this small habit he picked up after the war,  Zoey knew each night before he went to sleep he'd take a certain dose in a small black vial. 

In preparation, Zoey had procured a new, shall we say, more concentrated and much stronger strain of morphine. Meaning it would still be the same amount he had just with a much higher dosage, and if the police had any suspicions they'd easily be able to see all the empty vials he kept in the drawer of his nightstand.

So after a night of mingling and dancing with her alibis, she returned home and immediately opened herself up to one of his most expensive bottles, waiting for morning to reach her. For clarification that she had succeeded in winning her freedom back.

It wasn't quite the death he truly deserved. She wished it could have been more torturous and long-lasting but that was more her brother's style than hers.  No, Zoey knew that what she had done was for the best and that man would suffer wherever he ended up in the next life. She wasn't religiously inclined but she knew men like him, and she believed they'd be punished one way or another. She had to.

Sipping more of her glass, her mind wandered back to Sam Marcello. Her heart often ached when she pictured his face, which was tainted with the dark memory of his cruel beating. His ocean eyes were blighted with crimson-imploded veins and dark swelling. That image alone made her feel fiercely justified once more.

Just as she could feel the clock strike 7, that deafening shriek from Tony's mistress waking to find him dead beside her rang through the mansion like music to Zoey's ears. And with it came a smile, a genuine smile of joy, she'd sleep well tonight for the first time in years knowing that monster was finally slayed.

The next few hours were filled with false tears and questioning, as she played her role accordingly and exactly how she rehearsed. 

"Do they know how it happened?" Zoey choked looking at her cousin-in-law with tear-stained cheeks, watching as the authorities rolled her husband out of the house in a black body bag.

"Overdose they say." Charles Sabini informed her solemnly, lighting up his cigar. "I warned him about that stuff. But he never fucking listened."

"How awful."