Chapter 3

"Oh, Charlotte, darling, are you quite alright?" Brenda' s voice dripped with saccharine concern, her eyes, however, sparkled with malicious glee. She stood beside Chandler, a picture of perfect, worried innocence.

Chandler, his face a mask of cold indifference, cut in before I could even formulate a response. "She's no longer part of this family, Brenda. Her actions have made that clear."

The words felt like a physical blow, even though I knew they were coming. The formal announcement, the public denunciation. He outlined my supposed crimes, the lies he had so readily believed, painting me as a pariah, a disgrace.

The world tilted. The familiar faces of the reporters, the flashing cameras, the whispers that followed me everywhere. I felt a surge of white-hot anger, propelling me forward. I pushed through the crowd, my bruised body screaming in protest, until I stood before them, a raw wound exposed to the world.

"Chandler!" My voice cracked, raw with emotion. "How dare you?!"

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. Their eyes, filled with judgment and contempt, raked over me. The whispers grew louder, sharper, cutting through the thin veil of my composure. "Look at her," one woman hissed. "The scandal-ridden heiress. So pathetic."

I froze, the weight of their judgment crushing me. The shame was a familiar companion, but the sheer cruelty of it, in this moment, was almost unbearable.

Suddenly, a hand gripped my arm, pulling me roughly under an umbrella. Chandler. His touch, once a comfort, now felt like a brand. "Stop making a scene, Charlotte," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're only making things worse."

I yanked my arm away, pain shooting through my shoulder, but I didn't care. I wouldn't let him control me again. I wouldn't let him silence me.

"Worse?" I spat, my voice rising. "Worse than selling my family's legacy to her?" I pointed a trembling finger at Brenda, who recoiled with a theatrical gasp. "This was my home, Chandler! My parents' home! I am Charlotte Graves, their only daughter! She is nothing but an adopted... an adopted parasite!"

SMACK!

The sound echoed through the stunned silence. My head whipped to the side, a searing pain blooming across my cheek. My vision blurred, tears stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Chandler stood before me, his hand still raised, his eyes blazing with fury. He pulled Brenda closer, shielding her with his body, as if she were the victim, not the architect of my destruction.

"Don't you dare speak about Brenda like that!" he snarled, his voice trembling with rage. "She is more family to me than you ever were! She is more daughter to this family than you could ever hope to be!" His words were poison, twisting the knife deeper into my already bleeding heart. "You, Charlotte, are a disgrace. A liar. A manipulative witch who tried to burn her own sister alive!"

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. It was so utterly absurd, so grotesquely unfair, that a hysterial laugh bubbled up in my throat. I remembered. I remembered every instance of Brenda's calculated cruelty. The porcelain doll she "accidentally" broke, blaming me. The forged diary entries "confessing" to her imaginary torments. The scraped knees and tearful accusations, always ending with me in trouble, always with Brenda by his side. Her tears were her weapons, her feigned innocence her shield.

And Chandler. He had always been there, a solid, unwavering presence, always defending me, always believing me. Always. Until three years ago. Until the night he stood by and watched my life burn.

I had been so naive, so foolishly optimistic. I had believed in his protection, in his love. I had believed he would always be my safe harbor. Now, looking at his cold, furious face, I saw only a stranger. A monster.

"I'm disappointed in you, Charlotte," he said, his voice laced with a stinging disdain. "Deeply disappointed."

His cold, calculating posture, his contemptuous words, jarringly overlapped with another memory: him on one knee, a velvet box in his hand, his eyes shining with adoration. "Marry me, Charlotte. I promise to protect you, cherish you, love you forever." The illusion shattered, leaving behind only bitter ash.

"This is your last chance," he continued, his voice as cold as ice. "Apologize to Brenda. Publicly. And perhaps... perhaps we can salvage something."

My gaze fell upon his hands, entwined with Brenda' s, a grotesque symbol of their twisted alliance. A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped my lips.

"No," I said, the word unwavering. "I will not apologize for your lies. And I will not beg for what is rightfully mine." My eyes, burning with a new, fierce resolve, met his. "I want the money. The money I earned for the brownstone."

His face contorted in rage. "You really are incorrigible! You want money?! Fine! Have your damn money! But know this, Charlotte Graves, from this moment on, you and I are done. Finished. Understand?"

A sudden, suffocating silence descended upon the crowd. The air crackled with tension. Chandler' s eyes, dark and menacing, bored into mine. "Do you understand?!" he roared, his voice shaking with barely contained fury.

I met his gaze, my own eyes hard and defiant. I saw a flicker of something in his, a moment of confusion, of desperate disbelief. He wasn' t used to me fighting back, not like this.

Just then, Brenda, ever the manipulator, sprang into action. She broke free of Chandler' s grasp, her face a mask of tearful distress, and flung herself at my feet. "Oh, Charlotte! I'm so sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen! It's all my fault! I'll leave! I'll leave and you can have Chandler and the brownstone back!"

She launched herself down the marble stairs, a dramatic, wailing descent. Halfway down, she stumbled, a theatrical, agonizing fall. A sharp cry of pain. Then silence.

Chandler, his face contorted in horror, rushed to her side. He knelt, his hands trembling as he cradled her head. A widening crimson stain bloomed beneath her, soaking into the pristine white fabric of her dress.

"Brenda! Brenda! My God!" His voice was a choked gasp, a desperate cry. "Someone! Get a doctor! NOW!"

His furious gaze snapped to me, blazing with an unholy wrath. "You! You did this! You pushed her! You tried to kill her and our baby!"

"Bind her!" he roared, his voice thick with murderous intent. "Bind Charlotte Graves! And God help you, Charlotte, if Brenda and our child don't make it, I swear, I will make you pay for this for the rest of your miserable life!"