Chapter 3

The air near the stables was thick with acrid smoke. It wasn't a large fire, just as they' d planned, but it was enough to cause panic. Estate staff were running with extinguishers, their shouts mixing with the frightened whinnies of the horses.

We rounded the corner just as two security guards were escorting a soot-covered, crying Lily away from the scene. My heart clenched. She looked terrified, but she was walking. She wasn't horribly burned like the last time. My anonymous tip had worked. Security had responded faster.

Suddenly, a towering figure strode towards us, his face a mask of thunder. Senator Maxwell. His presence silenced the chaos around him. His sharp, intelligent eyes, the ones I' d only ever seen on television, were blazing with a cold fire. They swept past me and my father, landing on Ethan and Holly, who had rushed to catch up.

"Thorne! Summers!" the Senator' s voice boomed, each word a hammer blow. "My head of security just informed me that a fire was deliberately set in the hayloft where my granddaughter was playing. He also received an anonymous tip an hour ago, describing someone who looks remarkably like you, Ms. Summers, near the stables."

Holly went deathly pale. The triumphant look was gone, replaced by sheer, abject terror. The other professors, who had trailed behind them, began to murmur and shrink back, their faces a mixture of fear and confusion. They were ambitious, but they weren't prepared for this. They had signed up for a calculated favor, not a potential felony investigation involving one of the most powerful men in the country.

"Senator, I... I don' t understand," Holly stammered, her voice trembling. "This is a terrible mistake. We just heard about the fire and rushed to help."

"A mistake?" Senator Maxwell repeated, his voice dangerously low. "My granddaughter could have been killed."

Holly' s eyes darted around wildly, searching for an escape, for a scapegoat. Her gaze landed on me. A venomous spark of an idea ignited in her expression.

"It was her!" Holly shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Olivia! She' s been acting strangely all day. She' s Lily' s tutor, she knew exactly where Lily would be! Maybe she' s jealous of my friendship with Ethan! Maybe she' s unstable!"

The accusation hung in the smoky air, stunning and outrageous. The circle of professors stared at me, their fear quickly morphing into suspicion. They needed someone to blame, and the quiet, artistic wife was the perfect target.

I looked at Ethan, my heart a block of ice in my chest. This was his moment. He could end this lie with a single word. He could defend his wife.

He didn't.

He looked from Holly' s desperate face to the Senator' s furious one. I could see the cold, brutal calculation in his eyes as he weighed his options. His ambition won. It always would.

He took a step forward, placing a comforting hand on Holly' s shoulder. He looked at Senator Maxwell with an expression of deep sorrow and regret.

"Senator," Ethan began, his voice thick with feigned pain. "I love my wife, but... Holly is right. Liv hasn' t been herself lately. She' s been under a lot of stress. I... I never thought she would do something like this, but I can' t deny she was near the stables just before the fire started. She said she was going for a walk."

The betrayal was so complete, so absolute, it was almost elegant in its cruelty. He stood there, condemning me with a look of love on his face. He was sacrificing me to save himself and his lover.

My father stepped in front of me, his body a shield. "That is a despicable lie, Ethan! You know Olivia would never harm a child!"

But the Senator' s attention was fixed on me. His face was unreadable, his judgment swift and absolute. He believed them. He believed the pack of well-dressed, articulate academics over the pale, silent woman they had just thrown to the wolves.

"My security will handle this," the Senator said, his voice devoid of all warmth. He gave a sharp nod to two of his men. "Take her. Keep her in the security office until the police arrive. I want her questioned."

The two men, large and impassive, moved towards me. They grabbed my arms. Their grip was like iron. I didn' t struggle. I saw my father lunge forward, shouting my name, but another guard blocked his path. As they dragged me away, one of the men tightened his grip on my upper arm, his fingers digging into my flesh with brutal force. I felt a sharp, searing pain, and a cry escaped my lips. He was making a point, showing his boss that the threat was being neutralized.

The pain was real, a sharp contrast to the ghostly agony of my past life. This time, the wound was visible. This time, there would be a bruise. This time, there would be evidence.