Chapter 2 The Blank Check and the Ballerina

Alya turned away from the empty hallway.

She walked with stiff, mechanical steps toward the nearby hospital restroom. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she went straight to the sink.

She turned the faucet to the coldest setting, cupped her hands and splashed the freezing water onto her face.

The icy shock made her gasp, but it cleared the fog in her brain.

She gripped the edges of the porcelain sink, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. A thin smear of blood stained her lower lip where she had scrubbed it raw.

She grabbed a rough paper towel, wiped her face dry, and threw it into the trash bin with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Alya walked back out into the waiting area.

The elevator doors at the end of the hall pinged open.

Linden Pierce, Cole's executive assistant, stepped out. He wore a pristine gray suit, his posture stiff and professional.

He walked toward Alya, his eyes deliberately avoiding hers. He stopped a few feet away and opened his sleek leather briefcase.

Linden pulled out a heavy, leather-bound checkbook. He ripped a check from the binding and held it out to her.

"Mr. Vanderbilt-Sterling requested I give this to you, ma'am," Linden said, his voice monotone.

Alya looked down at the paper. It was a blank check. Cole's bold, arrogant signature was already scrawled at the bottom.

"He said you should buy a new dress," Linden added, shifting uncomfortably. "To cheer yourself up."

Alya stared at the signature. The ultimate insult washed over her, a wave of cold disgust settling in the pit of her stomach.

Her grandfather was fighting for his life fifty feet away, and Cole thought he could pay off her grief with shopping money.

Alya reached out. Her fingers gripped the top and bottom edges of the thick paper.

With a sharp, decisive motion, she tore the check straight down the middle.

The sound of the tearing paper was loud in the quiet hallway. She put the pieces together and tore them again, reducing the blank check to confetti.

Linden's eyes widened in genuine shock. His professional, emotionless mask slipped completely.

He watched as the torn pieces of paper fluttered from Alya's hands, landing on the sterile hospital floor.

"Please tell Mr. Vanderbilt-Sterling," Alya said, her voice a quiet, hollow whisper that barely carried over the hum of the hospital ventilation, "that I appreciate the thought, but I don't need it."

Linden swallowed hard. He nodded nervously, quickly snapping his briefcase shut.

He retreated to the elevator, practically running, clearly eager to escape the freezing wrath radiating from her.

Alya sat heavily on the hard plastic chair against the wall. She pulled out her phone again.

She opened Twitter. The screen exploded with trending hashtags. ColeAndAngelle VanderbiltSterlingRomance PlazaHotelNights.

Alya scrolled through the comments. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin broke.

"Angelle is his true love," one comment read.

"Who even is his wife? The invisible Hayes girl?" another mocked.

The click-clack of designer heels echoed down the hall, cutting through the hum of the hospital ventilation.

Alya looked up.

Angelle Navarro was walking toward her. She wore a tight, black designer dress that hugged her dancer's figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In her arms, she held a massive, extravagant bouquet of white lilies.

Alya stood up instantly. Her body moved instinctively, blocking the pathway that led to the ICU doors.

Her eyes locked onto Angelle's smug, perfectly contoured face.

Angelle stopped a few feet away. She offered Alya a sickly sweet, pitying smile.

"Alya, darling," Angelle cooed. "I heard the terrible news.Out of concern I came to pay my respects to the ailing Mr. Hayes. "

Alya glanced down at the lilies. White lilies. Flowers exclusively associated with funerals and death.

The blatant, malicious provocation made Alya's blood boil. The heat rushed to her face, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Leave," Alya ordered coldly. "This is a restricted family floor. Mistresses aren't on the visitor list."

Angelle's sweet smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Her dark eyes narrowed into slits.

She stepped closer, invading Alya's space.

"Cole was so exhausted last night," Angelle whispered, her voice dripping with venomous intent. "He could barely wake up when your calls started coming through."

Alya's breath hitched. The vivid mental image of Cole sleeping in Angelle's bed hit her like a physical blow to the stomach.

A wave of nausea rolled through her. But she forced her spine to remain rigidly straight, she refused to let this woman see her break.

Angelle smirked, sensing the hit. She reached out a manicured hand, pretending to brush a speck of dust off Alya's shoulder.

As her hand moved, the heavy diamond bracelet on her wrist caught the fluorescent light. It was a limited-edition Cartier piece, Alya knew exactly how much Cole had paid for it.

Alya didn't think. She reacted.

She swung her arm and slapped Angelle's hand away violently.The sharp smack of skin against skin echoed loudly in the quiet corridor.

Angelle stumbled backward. She let out a dramatic, high-pitched gasp, clutching her hand to her chest.

Her eyes darted quickly toward the elevator banks, as if checking to see if she had an audience for her performance.

The elevator doors pinged and slid open.

Haylee Hayes, Alya's older sister, stepped out. She took in the scene in a split second.

Haylee's eyes blazed with protective fury. She marched over, her boots stomping on the linoleum. She positioned her body directly in front of Alya, shielding her completely.

"Take your damn funeral flowers and get the hell out of here," Haylee snarled at Angelle, pointing a finger at the elevator.

Angelle bit her lower lip, instantly playing the victim.

"I was only trying to be nice," Angelle muttered, her voice trembling artificially. "The Hayes sisters are so ungrateful."

She turned on her heel, her heels clicking rapidly as she retreated to the elevator.

Alya watched Angelle's retreating back until the doors closed. The adrenaline that had kept her standing suddenly crashed.

Her legs began to tremble uncontrollably.

Haylee turned around. She wrapped her arms tightly around Alya, pulling her into a fierce, crushing embrace.

"I've got you," Haylee whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears for her sister's pain.

Alya buried her face in Haylee's shoulder. The smell of her sister's familiar vanilla perfume broke the last of her defenses.

She let out a single, broken sob that tore painfully from her throat.

Haylee held her tighter, letting her cry for exactly one minute. Then, Haylee pulled back slightly.

She gripped Alya's shoulders firmly, forcing Alya to look her in the eye.

"Are you finally ready to leave that toxic marriage?" Haylee asked, her voice soft but absolute.

Alya looked down at the floor. The torn pieces of Cole's blank check were still scattered near her feet.

It was the ultimate symbol of her worthless status in his eyes.

Alya lifted her chin, her tear-stained eyes hardened into cold steel.

She looked at Haylee and gave a slow, definitive nod.