Chapter 2

Days blurred into a routine of pain management and whispered consultations. Ethan and Julian were constants, their faces grim, their promises of retribution for Brianna unwavering. They told me she was in a harsh city jail, awaiting charges.

"She won't see the light of day for a long time," Ethan said, his jaw tight.

Julian smoothed my hair back. "Focus on healing, Scarlett. We're here."

But the commentary was a relentless counterpoint.

"He says that now. But Brianna' s playing her cards."

Then, the news came. Brianna had collapsed in her cell. A "life-threatening illness," the reports said. Some rare, aggressive infection.

Ethan' s phone rang. He listened, his expression shifting from anger to something else. Concern.

"We need to go," he said to Julian, already standing. "It's Brianna. She's critical."

"What?" I struggled to sit up. "Ethan, no. She did this to me."

Julian avoided my eyes. "Scarlett, she might die. We can't just let that happen."

"See? Priorities shifting. The 'genius' is in trouble."

"But what about me?" My voice was thin, reedy. "My doctors... the skin grafts..."

"We'll handle it from the hospital," Ethan said, already at the door. "Julian, come on."

Julian hesitated, looking back at me. His devotion, once a solid rock, now seemed to have cracks.

"Julian, please," I begged. "Stay away from her. She's dangerous. She's manipulating you."

He frowned, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "Scarlett, don't be like this. Brianna is... she' s too valuable to lose. Her mind, her ideas... they could change things."

"Valuable. There' s the word. And what are you, scarred girl? A liability."

He left. The door clicked shut, a sound of finality.

The flowers in my room started to wilt. The specialist consultations became less frequent. My calls to Ethan and Julian often went to voicemail. When they did answer, their voices were distant, preoccupied.

"Brianna needs round-the-clock care," Ethan explained, his tone clipped. "We're pulling strings to get her the best."

The commentary was relentless. "All attention on the rising star. The old star is fading fast."

I lay in my bed, the sterile room feeling more like a prison. The pain in my face and leg was a constant throb, but a new, deeper ache was settling in my chest. The ache of abandonment. The air in the room grew heavy, and outside my window, a sudden downpour began, the rain lashing against the glass, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. The voices whispered, "They won' t even remember your favorite color soon."