It is another hour before Grace finally finds herself alone in a taxi on the way to Marlena's penthouse apartment. Lexie, the doctor and obviously Marlena's friend, had tried to insist that she would take her, but Grace had refused firmly. Right now she knows too little about Marlena's life. If she doesn't put distance between herself and Marlena's friends, there is too much danger that she will slip up and reveal herself before she is ready.
She pays the driver and slips out of the car. Her dress is crumpled and she notices it is slightly torn as she smoothes it over her hips. She looks down at the conservative sundress with distaste and sighs.
The elevator ride to the top floor seems to take forever and she wonders what she will find when she gets there. She remembers little of Marlena's life, only hazy memories, augmented by the information Stefano has given her. It is enough to know she bears no affection for the woman she has been.
She reaches into Marlena's purse and pulls out a set of keys. She is about to unlock the door, when it opens abruptly and she finds her face to face with a blonde teenager.
"Oh Mom, I'm *so* glad you're okay!" The girl throws her arms around Grace's neck and hugs her tightly. Grace is taken aback but remembering that she must not arouse any suspicions, she pats what must be Marlena's daughter on her back.
"Hi honey," her laugh is insincere but the child appears not to notice.
"What's going on Mom? Dad hardly said a word to me when he came home."
"Is your father still here?" Grace looks around Marlena's home for the first time. She is pleasantly surprised. It is elegant and understated but comfortable. It is not entirely to her taste, but she can certainly live there.
"No, he said he had to go out," the girl looks confused and a little scared. "Mom?"
"It's been a long day honey, I've got a headache," Grace discards her shoes and her purse. "Can we talk about this later?"
The girl looks unsure and then she nods acceptingly. "Okay, I was going out to the movies with Chloe anyway," she pauses, "unless you want me to stay with you? If you're not feeling so good..."
"No." Grace shakes her head. She needs this time alone to acclimatize. "You go. Have a wonderful time."
"Okay." The child nods. "I won't be late."
Grace nods her head and allows the blonde teenager to give her a kiss and then she turns her attention to the living room. She hears the door close and she takes the opportunity to lock it behind the young girl.
She'd forgotten that Marlena has children. That might complicate matters. Especially if the girl is living in the same house. She purses her lips. Maybe there's somewhere she can ship the child for the summer? Out of sight, out of mind as they say.
Sighing, she wanders around the room, picking up items that catch her interest. Plenty of pictures of Marlena with her children. One of Marlena and John on their wedding day. Her lips twitch into an amused smile. Poor Marlena. Poor, stupid, trusting Marlena.
She trails her fingers past the books on the shelf. All tediously intellectual and pretentious, just as she expected. No surprises so far.
She finds the liquor cabinet and utters a sigh of pleasure. With experienced hands, she fixes herself a martini, careful to ensure that there is no ice left in her exquisitely mixed drink. She takes a sip and hums her approval. At least Marlena stocks decent alcohol. For that, she is grateful.
Taking her glass, she ventures up the stairs, checking the rooms as she goes. One for the young girl. One for some unknown boy. And then the bedroom that is obviously Marlena's.
Grace wrinkles her nose at the sight of the softly feminine floral comforter and the crisp cotton sheets. She takes another sip of her drink, letting the cool mixture of gin and vermouth sweep across her tongue. She walks to the window and looks out over the city of Salem, wondering what it is that Stefano finds so fascinating about this little backwater.
"Well Marlena, let's find out a little about you shall we?" She sashays to the armoire and unlatches the door. Her fingers filter through the fine fabrics of the clothes that hang loosely and her face conveys her dismay. She wouldn't be caught dead in most of these drab, dowdy clothes and she doesn't think she's going to be able to stomach it, even for Stefano's sake.
A wicked smile plays on her lips as she considers her options. She'll just have to spice up Marlena's wardrobe, along with some other key areas of her alter-ego's life.
Salem is not going to know what hit it.
~
Stefano has a certain spring in his step as he enters the sitting room of his house. His eyes alight on the chess set in the corner and he rubs his hands together in delicious anticipation.
He pulls the table out and inspects the pieces. His eyes gleam as he picks up the black queen and stares at it, enraptured. He cannot believe this stroke of luck. When he lost Grace all those years ago, he had assumed that she was gone forever. The fall and subsequent injury was so severe that Marlena had barely survived. And when she'd awoken in San Cristobal, her memory of her time as Grace had been completely obliterated.
After the accident, he had obtained Hope from Ernesto and she had become Gina, but she had not been able to match Grace in any arena. She'd been passable and she'd been useful, but ultimately she had simply been a substitute for the one woman who was beyond his reach.
But now, through some stroke of unmitigated fortune, his Grace is back and she is as beautiful and as sharp as ever.
With a thoughtful expression, he strokes a finger down the expensive patina of the ebony queen. This changes everything. His plans, such as they are, can as good as be abandoned. Because Grace is the perfect weapon. She can wreak havoc in the heart of the Brady's and the Horton's, and they will never even know what hit them.
He laughs, the sound resonating in his barrel-like chest. Perfect. It couldn't be any more perfect if he wished it so.
~
Grace drifts down the staircase in a long silk nightgown. The matching robe floats out behind her. She finds herself pleasantly surprised by Marlena's lingerie after the disappointment of the armoire. The private side of Marlena shows more promise than she expected.
She mixes herself another drink and picks up the wedding picture once again. She studies her face in the photograph, noticing the fine lines that she is unfamiliar with around her eyes and mouth. She narrows her eyes as she looks at the couple's happy smiles.
"So much for wedded bliss huh Marlena?" She takes a sip of her martini. "Well, since you're not here to forgive your husband, it looks like it's up to me." She drops the picture back onto the sideboard, face down. "But there won't be any forgiveness in the Black household, you can guarantee that."
~
John stares at his phone, misery pouring off him in waves. All he can see is the devastation in Marlena's beautiful hazel eyes as Stefano tells her the ghastly truth and it is killing him. He swore that he would never let his past hurt her and now it has. And how.
He knows now that the very last thing he should have done was lie to her. Really he has known it all along, but he has put it off and avoided it until it has become impossible. And now he is paying the price. Or rather Marlena is paying the price. She is the one that is having to deal with the feelings of betrayal, the anger and pain and he can't bear that he is the one who has caused that. He should be there comforting her, loving her, but instead he is here, separated from her by his own lies and selfishness.
He has never hated himself more than he does right now. Of all the things he could do, he has done the most heinous. He has destroyed the trust and the love between him and the woman he treasures most in the world.
"Marlena." His whisper is labored and defeated. He is lost and he knows it.
~
Grace wanders to the sofa with a heavy photo album tucked under her arm. She drops it onto the sofa and then arranges herself with her drink beside the book. Slowly, she flicks through it, thankful for once that Marlena is so tediously organized. All the photos are labeled and she slowly learns the name of Marlena's children. Isabella, the precocious blonde teenager who greeted her at the door; Brady, a shy-looking young man who looks nothing like Marlena; Eric, in his early twenties, a product of Marlena's first marriage, from what Grace can garner, and his twin Samantha, a young woman with a child of her own. And finally there is Carrie.
Grace's strongest memories are of Carrie. She occupies many of the fragments of the memories that Grace has of Marlena's life. The twins are hazier, too young when Marlena was taken to really have formed any kind of lasting impression on Grace. Not that it matters. Grace has no interest in Marlena's family past what she must do to dampen any suspicions that they might hold. Once she leaves Salem, they will be relegated to the past. Permanently.
Grace grimaces as she sees the pictures with her own face staring back at her. Pictures of a life she has few memories of, with a family she doesn't know and doesn't care to meet. But she has no choice. Stefano has deemed they stay and she has no desire to chance his wrath quite yet. She needs to gather her strength and assess her options, whatever they may be.
The phone rings unexpectedly and she reaches over to pick up the portable. "Hello?" her voice is lazy and strongly sensual and Stefano does nothing to suppress the thrill in his own.
"Grace, darling."
"Stefano," he can almost hear her smile. "I was just thinking about you."
"Should I be worried?" he asks with amusement.
"You should always be worried my darling," she laughs and it reminds him of bubbles that break on the surface of a good champagne.
"Ah Grace, you do keep me on my toes," he grins widely. "I assume you are alone."
"I am," she takes another sip of her martini. "The husband was gone when I arrived. And Isabella has gone out."
"Belle," Stefano corrects. "Marlena calls the child Belle."
"Whatever." Grace sounds bored again. "Stefano, I hope you've got a good reason for me to stay here because looking around this place, I'm going to need daily insulin shots just to cope with the overwhelming sweetness." She drains her glass and sighs exaggeratedly.
"Do not worry Grace," Stefano can't fail to be amused by her. She is so transparent, but only because she intends to be. She is the only person in twenty years that has provided him any real intellectual challenges. Well, aside from Marlena that is. "I will give you the reasons you need, and more."
"All right," she slams the album beside her closed. "Tell me."
"Not over the telephone," Stefano tells her. "Have dinner with me tomorrow and we will discuss it then."
"Tommorrow?" her face falls.
"Grace, however wonderful the outcome, you had an accident today. You need your rest," he reminds her. She is set to argue, but Stefano continues. "I will send a driver for you tomorrow. Wear something stunning my dear."
"Stefano," Grace's tone is scolding, "do you really think you need to tell me that?"
"Of course not," Stefano laughs delightedly. "I did, simply because I can, Grace."
"Oh Stefano, you darling old reprobate," her giggle is wickedly delicious. "We are going to have fun aren't we?"
"Oh yes my beautiful Grace," he breathes, his mind reeling at the double entendre. She knows exactly what she does to him and she revels in it. But he doesn't care. Anyone else, he would crush. But not his Grace; not his beautiful golden Queen. He would not even be sure that he could if he tried. "Yes, we are going to have fun...."