Chapter 2 2

The subway car rattled violently, throwing Harley shoulder-first against the hard plastic seat. She didn't feel the impact. Her eyes were fixed on the dark window across from her.

Outside, the New York sky broke open. Heavy sheets of rain began to slam against the glass. The rapid, aggressive tapping sound drilled into Harley's ears.

Her breath hitched. The sound of the rain was a trigger. Her mind violently pulled her backward, dragging her into the dark.

Five years ago. The Long Island Vance estate.

Harley stood at the top of the grand, sweeping marble staircase. The heavy wooden handle of her suitcase dug into her palm. She was leaving. She just wanted to get out.

Alyssa stood blocking the top step. She wore a pristine white dress. A sweet, innocent smile was plastered on her face, but her eyes were cold and dead.

"You really thought you belonged here?" Alyssa whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. "You're just a stray dog they picked up. Colvin doesn't love you. He pities you."

Harley felt a tight knot form in her throat. She didn't want to fight. She just wanted to leave.

She turned her body sideways, trying to squeeze past Alyssa on the narrow landing. As she moved, her elbow lightly brushed against Alyssa's shoulder. It was barely a touch.

Suddenly, Alyssa let out a blood-curdling scream.

Harley froze. She watched in horror as Alyssa threw her arms up, arched her back, and intentionally threw herself backward. Alyssa tumbled down the long, steep flight of marble stairs, her body hitting the hard stone with sickening thuds.

At that exact second, the massive oak front doors swung open.

Colvin Gaines walked in, shaking the cold rain from his coat. He looked up just in time to see Alyssa's body hit the bottom of the stairs. Blood pooled on the white marble from a cut on her forehead.

"Alyssa!" Colvin roared.

He dropped his briefcase and sprinted across the foyer. He slid to his knees, gathering Alyssa's bleeding head into his arms. Then, he looked up.

His eyes locked onto Harley standing at the top of the stairs. The look in his eyes wasn't just anger. It was pure, unadulterated hatred.

Harley's stomach plummeted. "Colvin, I didn't-" she started, her voice trembling.

She ran down the stairs, her feet slipping on the marble. She reached out to touch his shoulder, desperate to explain.

Colvin swung his arm back and slapped her hand away with brutal force. The smack echoed in the large hall. Harley stumbled back, her wrist stinging.

Alyssa whimpered in Colvin's arms. She buried her face in his chest, her tears mixing with the blood. "Don't be mad at her, Colvin," Alyssa cried weakly. "She was just angry. She didn't mean to push me."

Colvin's jaw clenched. He glared at Harley. "You vicious, jealous bitch," he spat. "You tried to kill your own sister."

Harley's mouth fell open. The air left her lungs. This was the man she grew up with. The man she was supposed to marry in two months. He didn't even ask what happened. He just convicted her.

Colvin reached out and grabbed his leather briefcase from the floor. He snapped it open, pulled out a thick stack of legal documents, and threw them directly at Harley's face.

The heavy paper hit her cheek, stinging her skin, before scattering all over the bloody floor.

Harley looked down. The bold black letters on the top page read: Prenuptial Asset Forfeiture Agreement & Family Trust Relinquishment.

"I never loved you," Colvin said, his voice cold and flat. "I love Alyssa. The engagement was just to keep the old men on the board happy. Sign it and get out."

Harley's heart stopped beating. It felt like a block of ice sitting in her chest. She looked at Colvin holding Alyssa. The truth hit her so hard her knees buckled. Her entire life, her family, her fiancé-it was all a massive, orchestrated lie.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Her adoptive parents, Mr. and Mrs. Vance, rushed into the foyer. They saw Alyssa bleeding and immediately dropped to the floor beside her. Mrs. Vance looked up at Harley, her face twisted in disgust.

"You monster," Mrs. Vance hissed. "Get out of my house."

Harley looked at the woman who had raised her. There was no love in those eyes. Only hate.

Harley's chest felt hollow. She bent down. Her fingers were numb as she picked up a pen from the floor. She knelt over the scattered papers and signed her name on every single line. She signed away the money, the trust, the name. She cut the cord.

She stood up, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out the front door into the freezing, torrential rain.

Harley threw her suitcase into the back of her beat-up Ford sedan. She climbed into the driver's seat. Her clothes were soaked, sticking to her freezing skin. Her hands shook violently as she turned the key in the ignition.

She pulled out of the driveway, speeding down the winding mountain road of the Long Island coast.

The tears finally came. They burned her eyes, blurring her vision. She wiped her face aggressively, but the tears wouldn't stop.

A sharp curve appeared ahead in the heavy rain. Harley moved her foot to the brake pedal and pressed down.

The pedal went straight to the floor. There was no resistance. Nothing. Someone had tampered with them. Alyssa. Colvin. It didn't matter who pulled the trigger; they had both aimed the gun.

Panic seized her throat. She pumped the brakes frantically. "No, no, no!" she screamed.

The car was moving too fast. She jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. The tires lost traction on the wet asphalt. The car spun out of control, slamming through the metal guardrail.

Weightlessness.

The car flipped into the air. Harley was thrown forward, her head smashing violently against the steering wheel. A blinding flash of white light exploded behind her eyes.

The sound of twisting, tearing metal was deafening as the car crashed into the trees below the cliff. The windshield shattered into a million pieces, raining glass over her body.

Warm blood poured down her forehead, dripping into her eyes. The world went dark. The last thing she heard was the faint, distant wail of police sirens.

"Next stop, 14th Street."

The harsh, robotic voice of the subway intercom ripped Harley out of the memory.

Harley gasped loudly, her eyes snapping wide open. Cold sweat dripped down her neck. She looked down at her hands. Her fingernails were dug so deeply into her palms that four small crescents of blood had pooled on her skin.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve. Her breathing was fast and shallow. She stood up as the train screeched to a halt.

She stepped off the train into the humid New York night. She looked up at the neon lights of Manhattan. The vulnerability in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, unbreakable steel. She pulled her hood up and started walking toward the club.