Chapter 3

The next day, my ankle was swollen and bruised.

I had it bandaged at a private clinic, preferring to avoid the family doctor and any ensuing questions.

As I was leaving, I saw them.

Ethan, Liam, and Noah, emerging from a specialist' s office down the hall.

Izzy was with them, her arm in a sling, looking pale and fragile.

They were fussing over her, of course.

"Are you sure you're comfortable, Izzy?" Ethan was saying. "We can get a different car if this one isn't smooth enough."

"I'm fine, Ethan, really," Izzy murmured, leaning slightly against him. "You're all being too kind."

Liam was holding her other arm. "Nonsense. Nothing is too good for you."

Noah was speaking quietly to the specialist, presumably about Izzy's "grievous" injury.

They didn't see me.

I slipped away, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Later, I overheard Ethan talking to his father on the phone in the library. His voice was low but carried.

"Father, I think it's best if Izzy moves out of the Vanderbilt staff quarters. It's... not safe for her there. Ava is... unpredictable lately."

My blood boiled. Unpredictable? Or just unwilling to tolerate their nonsense anymore?

He continued, "We need to protect Izzy. She's too vulnerable."

Then, Liam joined him, and I heard snippets of their conversation.

"...one of us has to do it," Liam was saying, his voice serious. "Marry Ava. It' s the only way to ensure Izzy is safe from any... repercussions from the Vanderbilts. If one of us is family, they can' t just dismiss Mr. Rossi, and Izzy will have our protection directly."

A cold dread washed over me.

My past life. The truth of it, stark and ugly.

They hadn't married me out of affection, or even duty to their families' alliances.

They married me to protect Izzy.

To ensure her continued presence in their lives, under their watchful eyes.

My marriages had been strategic sacrifices, not for dynastic mergers, but for Isabella Rossi.

The pain was so profound, it almost buckled my knees.

I leaned against the doorframe, a strangled, bitter laugh escaping me.

They wouldn't need to "sacrifice" themselves this time.

I had already made my choice.

I turned to leave, but a floorboard creaked under my good foot.

"Who's there?" Ethan called out.

Too late to retreat. I stepped into the library.

They looked up, surprised to see me.

"Ava," Ethan said, his expression guarded. "What are you doing here?"

Liam looked uncomfortable. Noah, who had just entered, simply stared.

"I heard you," I said, my voice flat. "Talking about Izzy. And about... marrying me."

A flicker of something – guilt? – crossed Ethan' s face.

Liam shifted his weight.

Noah' s gaze remained intense.

"Ava," Ethan began, "yesterday was... unfortunate. We were worried about Izzy."

"Worried enough to shove me into a table and leave me injured?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

Their eyes flickered to my bandaged ankle, visible beneath the hem of my dress.

A moment of silence.

"We... apologize for that, Ava," Liam said, though it sounded forced. "It was chaotic. But Izzy was genuinely hurt."

"And the Ming vase she 'accidentally' destroyed?" I pressed.

"She felt terrible about that," Noah said smoothly. "She was distraught."

Distraught or delighted?

They tried to placate me, their words a familiar balm that no longer soothed.

"Ava, you know you're important to us," Ethan said, trying for his old charm. "Like a sister."

A sister. The classic dismissal.

"But Izzy is... different," Liam added, struggling for words. "She needs us."

"So," I said, cutting through their attempts at diplomacy. "Which one of you is drawing the short straw this time? Who gets to 'sacrifice' himself for Izzy's sake by marrying me?"

Their faces tightened.

Ethan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

Liam looked away.

Noah' s jaw clenched.

Anxious anticipation hung in the air.

My sarcastic question, their loaded silence.

Internally, I was almost amused by their predicament. They clearly didn't want to marry me, but felt they had to for Izzy.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek echoed from the hallway.

"Help! Someone help Izzy!" It was Mrs. Rossi, Izzy's mother, her voice hysterical.

The trio snapped to attention, all thoughts of me vanishing.

"Izzy!" Ethan yelled, already moving.

They bolted from the room.

I heard frantic footsteps, panicked voices.

Then, a doctor who had apparently been summoned for Izzy earlier, rushed past the library door, looking grave.

"What's happened?" Ethan demanded as he re-entered the hallway where Izzy had apparently collapsed.

"She's having a severe allergic reaction to the pain medication!" the doctor exclaimed. "Her throat is closing! We need to get her to the hospital, now! She might need an emergency tracheotomy!"

Ethan swore, his face ashen. "I'll drive!"

Liam was already on his phone, presumably clearing a path to the hospital. "Tell them we're coming! Get the best team ready!"

Noah was by Izzy's side, who was now gasping for breath, her eyes wide with terror. He was trying to soothe her, his voice urgent. "Hang on, Izzy, we're getting you help!"

They were a whirlwind of panicked activity, their world once again revolving solely around Isabella Rossi and her latest crisis.

I stood in the library doorway, forgotten.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Their 'sacrifice' for Izzy was about to take a very literal turn.