Chapter 2

I spent two weeks in the hospital, my left leg in a cast, the wound still throbbing dully. But what hurt even more was the coldness in Ethan's eyes.

A few days ago, when he came to see me, he was holding a phone.

"Listen to this." He held it out in front of me and hit play.

It was a recording. The background was noisy, like it had been taken in the cafeteria.

"...That Vivian Rossi, isn't she just showing off because her family's rich?" a girl's voice said. "What's so special about being a mafia daughter? Sooner or later, something's going to happen to her."

"Yeah, I heard the Rossi family's done plenty of shady things..."

"Shh, keep it down. If she hears you, you're dead..."

The recording ended.

I stared at him. "That... that's not my voice..."

"You're still denying it?" Ethan's eyes were full of disappointment. "Vivian said you were trash-talking her in the cafeteria during lunch, and Madison and the others happened to catch it on video. Elena, are you really that jealous of her?"

"Ethan, it wasn't me!" I reached for his hand in panic. "I didn't even know who Vivian was. How could I have been talking about her on my first day?"

"That's enough." Ethan jerked his hand away. "The proof is right here. Vivian said that after she heard that recording, she came to find you out of kindness, just to tell you not to spread rumors. And then you threatened her in the restroom and said you were going to destroy the Rossi family."

"That's not true! They tried to force me to drink toilet water!"

"And now you're making things up?" Ethan's voice shot up. "Vivian said you shoved her, so she ran out. Then you chased after her, threw yourself out the window, and now you're trying to blame her for it? She was even making excuses for you that day, trying to protect you, and this is how you repay her?"

He drew a deep breath, trying to hold back his anger.

"The doctor said you can be discharged. I've already taken care of the paperwork. Think about what you've done."

Then he turned and walked out.

I lay in the hospital bed, replaying that recording over and over in my head.

That voice... it had been deliberately pitched lower, but I could tell it was Madison imitating me.

They had planned it all from the beginning.

The recording, the setup, and then Vivian playing the victim.

And Ethan had fallen for every bit of it.

---

The first day I went back to school, I learned what hell really looked like.

"SLUT" had been scrawled across my desk in red marker. Ink had been poured over my chair. My backpack had been thrown into the trash.

In the hallways, everyone pointed and whispered.

"That's her. The one who tried to frame Vivian."

"I heard she was jealous because Vivian's a Rossi."

"Trash is trash. Look how vicious she is."

Madison deliberately slammed into my shoulder, nearly knocking me over.

"Watch it, limp," she sneered. "Don't go blaming me again."

Laughter exploded around us.

In biology class, Ms. Smith stopped in the middle of her lecture and stared at me.

"Miss Gray, am I boring you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why aren't you looking at the board? Or do you think you're smarter than everyone else, so you don't need to pay attention?"

"I..."

Before I could finish, her phone came flying at me and slammed into my forehead.

Blood ran down from my brow.

"Get out!" Ms. Smith screamed. "A rotten student like you doesn't deserve to be in my classroom!"

I clutched my forehead and ran out of the room, with my classmates' laughter ringing behind me.

After school, I limped back toward the apartment, dragging my casted leg behind me.

The moment I opened the door, the sharp smell of paint hit me in the face.

The whole room had been splashed with red paint—on the walls, the floor, the furniture, everywhere.

And most glaring of all were the words painted across the wall: BITCH, GET OUT OF BLACKWOOD ACADEMY.

I dropped to my knees and finally broke down sobbing.

My phone rang. It was Ethan.

"Ethan..." I choked out. "Someone threw paint all over the apartment, I..."

"You did it yourself again, didn't you?" he cut in impatiently. "Elena, can you stop playing these games? Vivian told me you even hired someone to rape her yesterday. Good thing I got there in time."

"What?!" I could barely believe what I was hearing. "I never did that!"

"The evidence is solid." Ethan's voice was cold as ice. "Those men already confessed. They said you paid them. Elena, I was completely wrong about you."

"Ethan, please, let me explain..."

"That's enough. Don't call me again."

He hung up.

I sat there clutching my phone, collapsed in the middle of the spilled paint.

That night, I started running a fever. My wound was infected, and my forehead was burning up.

Shaking, I called Ethan.

"Ethan... I'm sick... can you come take me to the hospital..."

"Cut the act." He sounded annoyed. "Vivian asked me out to dinner tonight. I don't have time for your crap."

"Please... I really can't do this..."

"If you're going to play games, at least know when to stop." He gave a cold laugh. "If you're really sick, call yourself an ambulance."

Then he hung up.

I lay on the cold floor, my consciousness slipping further and further away.

The smell of paint mixed with the metallic smell of blood, making me want to throw up.

Rain pattered against the window.

I crawled over and looked out at the pouring rain, and suddenly I remembered how Ethan used to pick me up from school on rainy days when we were kids.

Back then, he used to hate seeing me get soaked.

Now, he only thought I was putting on an act.

Tears blurred my vision.

I picked up my phone and called his number one last time.

"Ethan Gray, your little sister's dying." Vivian's syrupy voice came from the other end of the line. "Want to go take a look?"

"Let her die." Ethan sounded utterly casual. "She's probably just trying to trick me into coming over."

Their laughter came through the phone.

I set it down and closed my eyes.

Just before everything went black, I heard the front door being kicked open.