Beneath Her Bastard Boss

ree days later, Blair sat in the back of an unmarked FBI surveillance van two blocks away from St. Matthew’s Cathedral, watching her own funeral on a small monitor.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. If wasn’t so important what they were doing, she might have enjoyed it more.

She could see the Gothic spires of the cathedral through the van’s tinted windows, and part of her wanted to be there. Not for the morbid thrill of watching people mourn her fake death, but because she wanted to support her sisters. Even through the grainy surveillance feed, she could see how pale Sutton looked in her black dress, how tightly Keira was gripping the flowers she was supposed to place on Blair’s empty casket. Even though they knew this was staged, it had to be hard on

them.

“Visual on all targets, agents are following Peter Warner. He is almost here.” Agent Rogers said from the front of the van, adjusting the surveillance equipment. “Roman’s in position in the front pew with your sisters.”

Blair’s phone buzzed with a text from Roman: This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Your sisters are incredible actors.

She texted back quickly: Almost over. You’re doing great.

His response was immediate: Can’t wait until this is all over and I know you are safe.

On screen, mourners were filing into the cathedral. Blair recognized faces from her job, some college friends, neighbors. Then her stomach dropped as she spotted two familiar figures walking in together.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Blair muttered.

“What?” Agent Rogers asked.

“Dan, my ex just showed up with Laura, my cousin. Long story short, he is a cheating rat, and she is a bitch.” Blair watched her ex–fiancé and cousin enter the cathedral. Laura’s pregnancy was clearly visible now, her black dress stretched over her growing belly. “The hide of some people.”

Peters, who was monitoring communications from a separate device, looked up. “That’s not necessarily bad for us. More family drama might make Peter more comfortable, less guarded.”

Blair’s phone buzzed: Dan and Laura are here. Sutton looks like she’s going to be sick. Keira looks like she wants to set them on fire.

She texted back: Keep them focused on Peter. That’s what matters today.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Blair admitted to Agent Rogers, watching Roman on the screen console with her sisters while Dan and Laura took seats toward the back. Good thing too. Keira might have found it too hard to have them closer. “Watching them have to act like they’re grieving me.”

“After this is over, you can make it up to them,” Rogers said. “But right now, this is the only way to keep you safe and get Peter to confess. The agents are raiding his place as we speak.”

“Target has arrived. Peter Warner just pulled up with his wife.”

Blair leaned forward, watching the screen as Peter and Vivian got out of their black sedan. Peter was wearing an expensive suit and what Blair supposed was meant to be a grieving expression. Vivian looked genuinely upset, which made Blair wonder again how much her aunt actually knew about her husband’s activities.

“He looks upset,” Blair observed.

make sure he’s seen as the devoted uncle,” Rogers replied. “We’ve got agents positioned throughout

Peter greet mourners with the perfect balance of sadness and

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their postures. Then

asking if I’m “holding up okay” and offering to help with “practical matters.” Your sisters

back: Almost

to listen to Father Martinez, who had baptized her as a baby, deliver a eulogy about her life. About her kindness, her determination, her love for her family. It was surreal and heartbreaking at the same time. She didn’t go to church as much as

feels so wrong,” she

Rogers said quietly. “But remember why

they’d never have. Even knowing it was all for show, even watching through a surveillance monitor, Blair felt tears prick her eyes. Because some of it felt so real. The part about changing his life, about loving her… was he speaking the truth because it felt like he had been speaking directly to her. The people

few moments after Roman sat down: Every word is

was fake, but still. She felt like laughing, but also she wanted to cry.

it was Peter’s

podium with practiced solemnity. He adjusted

system and into their surveillance van. “After we lost her parents, she became like

he tried to have

proud of the woman Blair became. Even after…” Peter paused, as if overcome with

down on the ‘poor but noble‘ narrative, but do you notice he couldn’t even

continued. “Blair faced every challenge with grace. The loss of her inheritance. She worked hard to prove herself

Sutton was staring at Peter with what Blair hoped looked like grief rather than hatred. In the background,

Peter’s voice grew stronger, more confident. “Some might say she was lucky to find someone willing to be there

buzzed with an angry text from Roman: What does he think

texted back: Even at my fake funeral, he can’t

done. “Blair’s death reminds us that life is fragile. That we can’t

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like her parents, she

forward,