Chapter 3

A memory surfaced, unbidden. My tenth birthday. I' d fallen from a horse, a nasty break in my arm. Ethan, barely a teenager, had carried me half a mile back to the estate, his face pale with worry. Julian had stayed by my bedside for days, reading to me, his small hand holding mine. That care, that fierce protectiveness, felt like a lifetime ago, a story about different people.

Now, my medical chart seemed to gather dust. The nurses were polite but distracted. The specialized ointments for my burns, the ones that cost a fortune, were sometimes "on backorder."

"Funny how resources get diverted, isn' t it?" the commentary sneered. "All the best for Brianna. The miracle survivor."

One afternoon, a new nurse, someone I didn' t recognize, came in with my medication. She seemed nervous.

"Careful, Scarlett. That' s not your usual dose. They want you quiet. More manageable."

I looked at the pills in the small paper cup. They did look different. "What are these?"

"Just your pain medication, dear," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes.

"Liar. Sedatives. Strong ones. Brianna' s orders, passed down through her new protectors."

My hand trembled. "I don't want them."

The nurse' s smile tightened. "Doctor's orders, Miss Scarlett."

A few days later, the head of hospital security, a man I knew answered to my family, came to my room. He looked uncomfortable.

"Miss Scarlett," he began, "there's been an allegation. From Miss Maxwell's room."

Brianna.

"She's had a severe allergic reaction. They found traces of shellfish protein in her IV line. She claims... she claims she saw you near her room earlier."

I stared at him, speechless. I hadn' t left my room in days, barely able to walk to the bathroom.

"The frame-up. Classic. And oh-so-effective."

Ethan arrived later, his face like stone. He didn' t ask for my side. He didn' t even look at me directly.

"How could you, Scarlett?" His voice was low, menacing. "After everything we' re doing for Brianna? Trying to sabotage her recovery?"

"I didn't do it!" I cried. "Ethan, you have to believe me!"

"He doesn' t. He won' t. He can' t afford to."

Julian followed, his expression a mixture of disappointment and disgust. "Scarlett, this is... this is not the girl I knew." He stood by the door, as if proximity to me was contamination. He publicly declared his support for Brianna' s "brave fight," praising her resilience.

The next day, I was moved. Not to a better room, but to a forgotten wing of our family estate. A place usually reserved for storing old furniture and forgotten memories. It was cold, dusty, and utterly isolated. The door locked from the outside. My gilded cage had just become a literal one. The commentary was almost gleeful. "Welcome to exile, princess."