Chapter 3

Ethan, reeling from Olivia' s revelation and Thorne' s icy condemnation, seemed to shrink.

Brooke. He needed to see Brooke. But doubt was a worm, burrowing into his certainty.

He found her in her private room, looking small and innocent in the hospital bed.

"Ethan, you look terrible," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Is it Ava? Is she still mad?"

He just stared at her. "The accident, Brooke. Tell me exactly what happened."

Her eyes welled up. "I told you. Ava was... she was upset about something, arguing with me. The driver... he came out of nowhere."

"What was she upset about?" Ethan pressed, a new hardness in his voice.

"I... I don't remember exactly. It all happened so fast." She clutched his hand. "Don't be mad at her, Ethan. It wasn't her fault, not really."

Such a good actress. I wanted to applaud.

I remembered it all now, with the clarity of the dead.

The flash of headlights from the wrong lane. My instinctive turn of the wheel, trying to take the impact on my side, to shield Brooke. My arm thrown across her.

She' d been screaming, yes, but not at me. At the oncoming car.

After the crash, before the blackness took me, I saw her. She was dazed, a few scratches, but her leg... her leg was fine then. She was looking at me, at the blood on my face, my lolling head.

Then, with a horrifying, deliberate clarity, I saw her eyes shift to her own ankle. She twisted it, hard. A small, sharp cry of real pain, quickly morphing into a theatrical wail as she slumped back, feigning unconsciousness just as the first passersby reached the car.

She had engineered her own more dramatic injury. Seeing I was badly hurt, she made sure she was the priority.

My spirit raged. He wouldn't see it. He wouldn't believe it.

Olivia was already working. My sister, the journalist. She wouldn' t let it rest.

She' d find the traffic cameras. West Side Highway always had cameras.

Ethan left Brooke' s room, his mind a turmoil. He went to the security office.

"The accident on the West Side Highway. I need to see the footage."

"Police have it, Dr. Hayes. But your... uh... Ms. Chen, Ava Miller' s sister, she' s already requested it through official channels."

Ethan looked surprised. Olivia was moving fast.

He pulled strings, called in favors. As Chief Resident, he had some sway.

Hours later, a grainy video file was on his laptop in his office.

He clicked play.

The footage was chillingly clear.

Our car. The other vehicle swerving.

My hands yanking the wheel. My body clearly twisting to shield the passenger side. Brooke' s side.

The impact.

Then, the aftermath. Me, slumped and unresponsive.

And Brooke.

Ethan leaned closer to the screen.

Brooke, moving. Conscious. Looking around. Looking at me.

Then, her hand reaching down, grabbing her own ankle. A sickening, deliberate twist. Her face contorting in pain, then smoothing into a mask of unconsciousness as headlights approached.

Ethan made a choked sound.

He rewound it. Watched it again. And again.

The truth, undeniable, brutal.

Ava shielded Brooke. Brooke, seeing Ava grievously injured, faked the severity of her own. Deliberately.

He looked up, his eyes hollow.

The hit-and-run driver. The police report said they' d found him. An acquaintance of Brooke' s. They' d had a dispute. This wasn' t random.

This was... monstrous.

He went back to Brooke' s room. She was asleep, or pretending to be.

"Brooke." His voice was flat, dead.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Ethan? What is it?"

He held up his phone, the video paused on the moment she twisted her ankle.

"Explain this."

Her face went white. The victim act vanished.

For a moment, she just stared. Then, a cold, hard light entered her eyes.

"Fine," she said, her voice dripping venom. "I was tired of being second best. You were always supposed to take care of me. Not her."

Ethan recoiled as if struck.

"Ava had everything," Brooke sneered. "You, the career, the fancy apartment, the respect. Everyone loved Ava. What did I have? Handouts. Your pity."

"She was pregnant, Brooke," Ethan whispered, his voice cracking. "With my child."

Brooke actually shrugged. "More for her, less for me. I just wanted my fair share. You were mine first, Ethan. Before she came along."

The sheer, unadulterated malice in her voice was astounding.

He looked at this girl he had practically raised, protected, sacrificed for.

And saw a stranger. A monster.