Chapter 4

Elara sat on the floor, clutching her red cheek. Large, fat tears spilled over her lashes. The victim routine was her default setting.

She looked past Giovanna, aiming her watery eyes directly at Damien sitting at the head of the table.

"Damien, please," Elara sobbed, her voice shaking. "Look at her. She's having another episode. She's not mentally stable. I was only trying to protect her from herself."

Damien didn't blink. He felt absolutely nothing for the crying woman on his floor, except a deep, sickening disgust that she was trying to paint his wife as crazy.

He pushed his chair back. The heavy wood scraped loudly against the floor. He stood up, his massive frame radiating pure violence. He was going to drag her out by her hair himself.

Giovanna saw his muscles coil. She stepped back, placing her hand flat against the center of Damien's chest. She patted his silk tie twice, a silent command to let her handle it.

She turned and walked to the edge of the dining table. She picked up the smartphone Damien had given her as a wedding gift, a device she had previously thrown in a drawer and ignored.

Her thumb swiped across the screen, pulling up the blocked messages folder she had ignored in her past life.

She spun around and shoved the glowing screen inches from Elara's tear-stained face.

"Let's read this one," Giovanna said, her voice dead flat. "'Gio, if he touches you tonight, smash a vase over his head. I have a car waiting outside.'"

Elara's breath hitched. The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and sickly. She never thought Giovanna would expose their private texts.

Giovanna scrolled down with her thumb. "Oh, here's a good one. 'Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get. He'll divorce you eventually.'"

The maids in the room shifted uncomfortably. The pity in their eyes vanished, replaced by hard, judgmental stares aimed at Elara.

Damien's hands curled into fists at his sides. His knuckles turned bone-white. The puzzle pieces slammed together in his head. The source of Giovanna's suicidal rebellion wasn't just her; it was the poison being dripped into her ear.

"That's fake!" Elara shrieked, scrambling backward on the floor. She lunged, trying to snatch the phone. "I never sent those!"

Giovanna easily sidestepped the clumsy grab. She shoved Elara's shoulder hard, sending her tumbling back onto the floor.

Giovanna slipped the phone into her dress pocket. She looked down, her eyes filled with pure contempt. "Fake? Do you want me to have the telecom company pull the IP logs and cell tower pings?"

Elara's mind went blank. Her perfect, innocent sister routine was crumbling into dust.

Giovanna crouched down. She leaned in close, her lips hovering right next to Elara's ear.

"I know," Giovanna whispered, her voice a deadly hiss meant only for Elara. "I know you wanted me to run away so you could crawl into his bed."

Elara's pupils dilated in absolute terror. Her chest heaved. She stared at Giovanna like she was looking at a ghost.

Giovanna stood up. She brushed her hands together, as if wiping away dirt.

She looked around the room, making eye contact with the maids who had been secretly reporting to Elara. Her gaze was like a physical blade.

"Take a good look," Giovanna said, her voice ringing with absolute authority. "This is the kind, innocent second daughter of the Vang family."

Elara knew she was losing. She needed an out. She grabbed the fabric over her chest, her breathing turning into ragged, loud gasps.

She slumped against the leg of a heavy dining chair, letting out a weak, pathetic moan. The fake heart attack.

In her past life, Giovanna would have panicked and begged Damien to call a doctor.

Now, Giovanna just stared at her. A cold, bloodthirsty smile stretched across her face.

She turned her head to look at the security chief standing by the door.

"Since she's so sick," Giovanna ordered, her tone casual and lethal, "call her an ambulance. And while we wait, throw her out the front gates."