Chapter 3

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

My mother roared.

Crimson blood was still pouring from my torn abdomen, but to my mom, even my agonizing, near-death pain was nothing more than a cheap stunt for attention.

"You pull a stunt like this, and how the hell are you supposed to walk out of here with Lilia tomorrow?" She glared down at me in the pool of my own blood, her eyes blazing with nothing but the fury of a ruined schedule. "Are you that hell-bent on ruining your sister's big day?"

"Enough. Don't waste your breath on her," My dad barked at the trembling attending surgeon. "Stitch her up. Now. Lilia's coming-home party goes off without a hitch."

To make sure I didn't delay Lilia's "perfect timing," they didn't even wait for the local anesthesia to fully kick in.

I felt every brutal drag of the curved needle piercing my raw flesh.

Fast forward twenty-four hours.

The wrought-iron gates of the Corsica estate locked shut behind me.

Too weak to even stand, I was essentially strapped to a wheelchair. Two brick-house enforcers flanked me. They called it "suicide watch." I called it not being able to take a piss without an audience.

"Beautiful morning!" My dad boomed across the grand foyer, flashing a rare, paternal smile. "We've got the best table at a Michelin-starred spot in Manhattan. We're celebrating Lilia and Alice coming home!"

The guards wheeled me out toward the driveway. From start to finish, not a single one of my blood relatives bothered to ask: Do you even want to go?

The crisp autumn air bit at my skin. Lilia, dressed like a porcelain doll, skipped over and shoved the guard aside, grabbing the handles of my chair.

"I got her!" she chirped, "We haven't had a sisters' day out in forever."

We barely made it two feet.

"Ow!"

Lilia let out a shriek. Her knees magically gave out, sending her sprawling onto the asphalt.

She clutched her knee, tears spilling on cue. "Dad... Alice jerked back out of nowhere. The chair wobbled, and I just fell..."

I stared dead-eyed at her performance. "My hands haven't moved from my lap."

"You're barely out of a hospital bed and you're already pulling this shit?!" My dad snarled. He closed the distance in two strides, raising a massive hand to backhand me across the face.

"Don't."

A hand clamped around my father's heavy wrist. Damian.

His hollow eyes locking onto me with absolute zero warmth. "Alice, your stitches are fresh. You're clearly not in the right headspace. You're staying behind."

Damian effortlessly pinned the label of 'aggressor' right onto my chest. He gripped the handles of my chair. "I'll take you back to your room."

"Damian..." Lilia scrambled off the pavement, immediately latching onto his bicep. She looked up at him through wet lashes. "But it's my first day out. If you don't come, I won't even have an appetite."

Damian froze. His gaze flicked between the two of us, his grip on my chair lingering for a second too long.

Staring at the man I had fiercely loved for eight years, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

"Go," I said, my tone flat. "I can wheel myself. You don't need two people babysitting a cripple."

Damian hesitated for exactly two seconds before letting go. Like a weight had been lifted off him, he turned and followed Lilia into the bulletproof Maybach.

Searing pain from my fresh incisions jolted me awake.

3:00 AM. The sheets beside me were cold and perfectly tucked. Damian was MIA.

Using the wall for support, I dragged my heavy body out of the bedroom. The sprawling estate was dead quiet and pitch black, except for the soft, intimate glow bleeding from under Lilia’s door down the hall.

In the dead of night, the voices slipping through the crack pierced my eardrums like a serrated blade.

"You say you love me, but you're still staying in her room!" Lilia’s whiny, tear-choked voice slipped through the crack. "How much longer are we playing this game? She’s a barren shell, Damian! What are you even holding onto?"

"Shh. Stop crying." Damian’s low, gravelly voice coaxed her. "You know exactly who I want."

A phantom ache seized my chest.

"Besides, your transplant is brand new. If you go into rejection, we need her blood to keep you going. She stays off-limits. For now."

I leaned against the plaster, biting down on my knuckles until I tasted copper. I stood there, listening to their breathless moans and shifting sheets until the sun came up.

Morning light stung my dry eyes. When my mom and dad finally stepped out of their master suite, they froze at the sight of me slumped outside Lilia's door like a ghost.

"Alice? What the hell are you doing out here?" My mom snapped, "Are you having another episode?"

I didn't answer. I just grabbed the brass handle and kicked the heavy oak door wide open.

I marched straight to the bed and tore back the duvet.

Amid their panicked gasps, I raised my phone and snapped a picture of Damian and Lilia’s naked, tangled bodies.

"Why the fuck are you bare-ass naked in my sister's bed?" I choked out a dark laugh, clutching my burning chest.

Damian scrambled to yank the sheets over his waist, his face flushing dark red. "Alice, are you out of your mind?! Lilia had severe chest pains last night! I thought it was a rejection episode, I just came to monitor her!"

Lilia curled into a tight ball, wrapping the sheets around herself as the waterworks started. "Alice, please... My heart was killing me last night. I thought I was dying. I had the guards get Damian because I was terrified! We didn't do anything, I swear to God!"

The rest of the family piled into the doorway. Not a single one of them looked at the two cheaters with an ounce of disgust.

Instead, my dad waved it off. "If Lilia was in that much pain, it makes sense Damian stayed to keep an eye on things. Stop acting like a crazy bitch over nothing."

My mom crossed her arms, looking at me like I was the plague. "She just had a major transplant. Someone needed to be there to call the medics! What is wrong with you? Are you seriously jealous of a medical emergency?"

Even Luca, my spineless brother, wouldn't meet my eyes. "Alice, Damian was just looking out for the family’s investment. Don't be so paranoid."

I looked at the three of them, a slow, psychotic smile stretching across my face.

"Just monitoring her?" I unlocked my phone, cranked the volume, and hit play.

"She’s a barren shell... If you go into rejection, we need her blood..."

The filthy, calculated words from last night bounced off the bedroom walls.

The color instantly drained from Lilia's face. A second later, she clutched her chest, her eyes rolling back as she started gasping. "Mom... my chest... it hurts... I can't breathe..."

"Lilia!"

I took half a step forward, but before my foot even landed, Elena’s hand cracked across my face in a brutal backhand.

The sheer force of it dropped me to the floor. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Down in the compound’s underground trauma bay, the monitors were screaming.

Elena stared blankly at Lilia's dropping vitals, then shot a lethal glare at the private nurse. "Draw Alice's blood. Now. Lilia doesn't have time."

The nurse ripped open a thick-gauge IV kit.

"I... I just got cut open yesterday..." I trembled violently, my voice barely a whisper. "Please... just give me a minute..."

A heavy, unforgiving hand pinned my shoulder to the gurney.

Damian stared down at me with absolute disgust. "Lilia is crashing because you provoked her with that goddamn recording. It's just a little blood, Alice. Drop the martyr act."

On my other side, Luca seized my arm in a vice grip, his free hand aggressively covering my eyes. "Just shut your eyes. It’ll be over in a minute. Stop making this harder than it has to be."

Inside the hollow cavern where my heart used to beat, the absolute last ember of hope flatlined.

I went completely limp. Like a good little blood bag, I offered my bruised arm to the nurse.

"Take it," I whispered at the ceiling, "Bleed me dry if she needs it."

An agonizing hour later, the monitors finally quieted.

Color returned to Lilia's cheeks. A collective sigh of relief washed over the room.

Elena snapped off her bloody latex gloves. She turned, leveling a lethal glare at my corner of the room. "Alright, Alice. Let's deal with that little stunt you pulled today—"

Her words abruptly died in her throat, tearing out of her as a raw, guttural scream.

The men whipped around, following her horrified stare.

I was slumped over the edge of the gurney.

The scalpel drove straight to the hilt, plunging right into the dead center of my chest.