Chapter 4

The patriarch of the Council stood, his voice booming through the silent sanctuary. "Pastor Hughes, you are a pillar of this community. We see no fault in you."

He then turned his gaze on me, his face a mask of stern judgment. "Gabrielle Johns, you have brought shame upon this house of God. Your gift was a sacred trust, and you have defiled it."

Caleb stood by, his expression one of pained acceptance. He did nothing. He said nothing to defend me. He let them condemn me.

"You are hereby stripped of all titles and privileges within this church," the patriarch declared. "You will be confined to the old north wing for a period of penitential seclusion, to reflect on your sins and pray for forgiveness."

Two guards grabbed my arms, their grips like iron. They started to drag me from the sanctuary. The congregation stared, some with pity, most with scorn. They were leading me to a life of imprisonment, a silent exile within the very walls I had helped build.

As they pulled me toward a side door, Maria appeared, blocking our path. She held a stack of papers in her hand.

"Wait," she said, her voice loud and clear for all to hear. "I need her signature on these. For the divorce."

Debra, who had been watching from the back, her face a storm of fury and grief, could take no more. She lunged forward. "You monster! You won't get away with this!"

Before she could even reach Maria, Caleb's security guards intercepted her. With brutal efficiency, one of them grabbed Debra and threw her. She tumbled backward, her head hitting the edge of the marble stairs with a sickening crack. She lay still, a pool of blood spreading around her head.

A collective gasp went through the crowd. But no one moved. No one helped.

My world shattered. Debra. My only friend. Gone.

Maria simply stepped over Debra's body, her face impassive. She shoved the divorce papers and a pen into my hand. "Sign it."

My hands shook uncontrollably. I dropped the pen. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the dust on the floor. I looked at Debra's still form, at the blood on the pristine marble. My blood. Our blood.

With a surge of cold, final resolve, I bit down hard on my thumb, breaking the skin. I dipped my finger in my own blood and signed my name on the line. I scrawled "Gabrielle" across the page, a bloody testament to my broken life.

I handed the papers back to Maria. There was nothing left. No hope. No justice. No reason to live.

I wrenched myself free from the guards' grasp. I ran. I ran past the stunned faces, past the altar, toward the bell tower. I climbed the winding stone steps, my lungs burning, my mind a black void of despair.

I reached the top and stepped out onto the narrow ledge. The wind whipped at my hair. Below, the courtyard looked so small, so far away. I heard a faint shout from below. It was Caleb's voice, screaming my name. "Gabrielle!"

It was too late. I closed my eyes and leaped.