Chris Williams. That was his name. He was a wealthy businessman who had a fetish for fine suits and silk and gold pocket watches. He was of new wealth, and flaunted it in every way possible. People like me, who came from old money, were disgusted at his gaudy ways, and those who came from no money hated him for reminding them of what they didn’t have. All except those who were in his favor hated him. And in order to be in his favor, you had to be a woman. A loose woman.
I stalked him for weeks. I knew his favorite restaurants, the quickest way from his home to his favorite places. But more importantly, I knew his favorite brothel. And I knew how I would kill him.