He Killed Her Slowly (A Completed Steamy, Romance)

Prologue

"You are a little princess, no matter what anyone says." Diara brushed my hair, then put on my tiara.

"Josie said princesses are make believe, and I'm not a princess, she said I'm a spoiled brat." I pouted.

"She's just mad because she wishes she was a princess."

I thought back fondly of the memories I have of my sister, Diara. We were always so close, until I was a teenager. Diara is five years older than me, and I was only thirteen when she went off to college.

I started modeling during that time, and Diara was invited to do the same. We were approached by a talent scout that spotted us at Disney, when we went on a family vacation right after she graduated high school.

She declined the offer, stating that she had no interest. Her interests were stored inside a book. Diara was so smart, and I really had to put in a lot of effort to make good grades, she on the other hand, made it look easy.

Unlike Diara, I skipped college against my parent's protests, and began modeling full time. Diara rarely came home, but did stay in contact by calling once a week.

When I was nineteen, my mom died of breast cancer, then at twenty one my father had a heart attack. He died one week later, and Diara didn't come to either funeral. It was painful and my sister's absence made it worse. I was completely alone in this world.

She did still call once a week from New York, this is where my parents grew up and she went to college. My father's parents also died young, and twenty-five years ago, my mother's father died, leaving my grandmother alone in her mansion, which I always felt it was cold and dark.

My grandmother wasn't just an extremely wealthy woman, she was stubborn and bitter. Both of my parents were only children, and their deaths made Diara and my grandmother my only living relatives.

For some reason, I'll probably never understand, my grandmother hated my sister and parents. She wasn't always good to me, but considering who the woman was, she did treat me better than anyone else.

I hated visiting the woman, she was vain and selfish. One day, after my mother ran off with my father, my grandmother attempted to burn down the massive home she referred to as her prison. The only thing she accomplished, was third-degree burns all over her face.

She had gone mad after grandfather died, and nothing the woman did was ever truly understood. The irony of her behavior, was that her attempted escape only imprisoned her for life within the very walls she tried to destroy.

She spent the rest of her life bedridden in a canopy bed, with sheer white curtains hiding her appearance from visitors.

She was creepy, and she was always laying behind that curtain. Her screams when she burned, damaged her voice, so when she spoke, her voice was raspy, and there was never a face to see.

Her staff eventually quit working for her because of her cruel ways to everyone, except for one woman, Clara Anne.

Clara Anne is the same age as my grandmother. Her mother worked for my great-grandmother, and the two grew up together in this very home. She was dedicated to my grandmother, and didn't leave her side until the day my grandmother died. My grandmother even built Clara Anne a tiny house on the property where she still lives today.

I received a call two days ago that said I was needed in New York. Not in a million years did I ever expect what happened.

The only two living relatives I have, were found by Clara Anne, dead in each other's arms. The police say it was a murder-suicide which made no sense. It's also the day I was told that I have a niece.

My sister never mentioned a child, and I never suspected one, let alone one that is already eight years old.

After my parents passed, I begged my sister to let me visit, to at least give me an address, but she refused. The more I asked, the less she called, until eventually, she stopped calling.

I am at the peak of my career, having contracts with the biggest names in the fashion world. Now I have to walk away to clean up the mess my sister and grandmother left behind for me.

I have an eight-year-old niece, who I've never met, to think about now. The father, so far, is unknown to me. I should know something after I meet with the attorneys, at least I hope I will, because a life of globetrotting is no life for a child, let alone a child who has her world turned upside down.

I have to find her father in hopes that he can give her the stable life she deserves.

I arranged for a double funeral and the only people that showed were Clara Anne, the priest, and the funeral director. I couldn't understand where all my sister's friends were, or at least the father of her child.

My niece was in foster care, and today is the day I meet Greer, my long lost niece.

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