Chapter 4

We were herded into a makeshift waiting area in the school gymnasium. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and antiseptic. Families huddled together, crying, while police officers and school officials moved between them with grim faces.

A paramedic found us. "The Miller family?"

We all stood up at once.

"Your daughter, Sarah, has been transported to St. Jude' s Hospital. She' s alive, but her condition is critical. She has a gunshot wound to the abdomen."

A collective gasp went through my family. Olivia swayed, and my father put an arm around her.

"We need to get to the hospital," David said, his voice tight.

At St. Jude' s, the chaos was even worse. The emergency room was a war zone. We were led to a small, private waiting room, the kind reserved for the worst news.

A surgeon, a tired-looking man in his fifties, came in to speak with us.

"The bullet has caused massive internal bleeding," he explained, his voice low and grave. "We' ve stabilized her for now, but she needs a highly specialized surgery to repair the damage to her vascular system. The problem is, the bullet is lodged near her spinal column. It' s an incredibly delicate procedure. One wrong move..." He didn' t need to finish.

"Who' s the best?" David demanded. "Get us the best neurosurgeon in the state, in the country. I don' t care what it costs."

The surgeon sighed. "The best... is probably your wife, Dr. Vance."

All eyes turned to Olivia. She looked pale, shaken.

And then, all eyes turned to me.

"Call her," my grandfather commanded. "Liam, you call her. Tell her to get here now."

In my past life, Olivia was already on her way back, her maternal instinct finally kicking in after her initial, fatal denial. But this time was different. This time, I had run. They didn't know where she was.

A flicker of an idea, cold and sharp, formed in my mind. A way to not just observe, but to push the pieces into place.

"I don' t know where she is," I said, my voice carefully neutral.

"What do you mean you don' t know?" my father snapped. "You were home when she left!"

"She just said she and Ethan were going out," I replied. It wasn't a lie.

"Find her!" my grandmother shrieked. "Her daughter is dying and she' s out somewhere with that... that boy!"

Ethan flinched, playing the part of the wounded party perfectly. "It' s not my fault. I didn' t know this would happen."

I pulled out my phone. "I' ll try calling her."

I pretended to be frantic, my fingers jabbing at the screen. I dialed her number, the same number I had called with blood on my hands in another lifetime. I put the phone to my ear.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

Just as I knew it would. She was on the beach with Ethan, her phone in her bag, the sound of the waves drowning out everything else.

"No answer," I said, lowering the phone. A wave of genuine panic washed over my family.

"Try again!" David urged, his voice raw.

I dialed again. I let it ring five times, then hung up. I did it again. And again. Each failed call was another turn of the screw, tightening the tension in the small room.

"Why isn' t she answering?" my grandmother sobbed. "What could be more important than this?"

On the seventh try, a voice answered. But it wasn' t Olivia. It was Ethan.

"What do you want, Liam?" he asked, an audible pout in his voice. I could hear the ocean in the background.

"Ethan, it' s Dad," David said, snatching the phone from my hand. "Put your mother on. Now. It' s an emergency."

"She' s busy," Ethan whined. "We were about to go get ice cream."

"I don' t care about your damn ice cream! Put her on the phone!" David roared.

There was a rustling sound, and then Olivia' s voice came on the line, sharp and irritated.

"David? What is it? You' re ruining our day. Ethan is very upset."

"Olivia, you need to get to St. Jude' s Hospital right now," David said, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and rage. "It' s Sarah. She' s been shot."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Then, her voice, dripping with disbelief and accusation, came through the speaker.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, David? Did you put Liam up to this? Don' t you dare curse your sister like that, Liam. I swear to God, when I get home..."

David' s face crumpled in disbelief. The rest of the family stared at the phone as if it were a venomous snake. They were finally hearing it for themselves. The blind, absolute partiality. The instant assumption that I was the liar, the villain.

The monster she had created was finally being seen.