Chapter 4

The days leading up to the wedding were strangely quiet. Richard and Ethan were consumed with Tiffany, who had miraculously recovered from her near-drowning with nothing more than a delicate cough. They hovered around her constantly, leaving me in a state of blessed solitude. I spent my time in my studio, sketching, trying to lose myself in my art.

One afternoon, I was walking in the quieter, west wing of the mansion, heading for the library. As I rounded a corner, I saw Tiffany coming toward me. My first instinct was to turn and walk away, to avoid any interaction. But she saw me and quickened her pace, blocking my path.

"Chloe," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I' m going to a charity gala tonight. The theme is vintage glamor. I was thinking... that locket your biological mother left you would be the perfect accessory."

I froze. The locket was the only thing I had from my birth mother, a woman I never knew. It was a simple, silver oval, and I never took it off. It was my most precious possession.

"No, Tiffany," I said, my hand instinctively covering the locket at my throat. "You can' t borrow it."

Her sweet smile faltered for a second. "Don' t be so selfish. It' s just for one night. Daddy says we should share."

"I share everything else," I said, my voice firm. "Not this. This is mine."

A flicker of real anger flashed in her eyes before it was replaced by her signature look of hurt fragility. "Fine," she whispered, her lip trembling. We were standing at the top of a short flight of marble steps leading down to the conservatory. As I tried to step around her, she suddenly lurched forward, grabbing onto my arm.

"Whoops, I' m feeling a little dizzy," she cried out, her weight pulling me off balance.

We tumbled down the steps together. It wasn' t a long fall, but the marble was unforgiving. I landed hard, my arm scraping against the sharp edge of a step, a deep gash opening up on my forearm. Pain flared, hot and sharp. Tiffany, on the other hand, had managed to land on a plush runner at the bottom, completely unharmed.

"Chloe! You pushed me again!" she shrieked, bursting into tears the moment she sat up.

As if on cue, Richard and Ethan appeared, drawn by her cries. They saw the scene: a sobbing Tiffany on the floor, and me, clutching my bleeding arm, a few steps above her.

Their reaction was immediate and predictable.

"My God, Chloe, not again!" Ethan yelled, rushing to Tiffany' s side. "Can' t you leave her alone for five minutes?"

Richard' s face was stone. He walked past me without a glance and helped Tiffany to her feet, fussing over her as if she were made of glass. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did she hurt you?"

"I just wanted to borrow a necklace," Tiffany sobbed into his chest. "She got so angry... she pushed me."

"That' s not what happened!" I cried out, my voice shaking with rage and pain. Blood was seeping through my fingers, dripping onto the white marble. "She tried to take my mother' s locket! She pulled me down with her!"

Ethan scoffed. "Right, Chloe. Because Tiffany, who is half your size, somehow managed to overpower you and throw you both down the stairs. It makes perfect sense." He was using his lawyer voice, the one that made everything sound logical and everything I said sound like a hysterical lie.

"Look at my arm!" I pleaded, holding it out. "I' m the one who' s hurt!"

Richard finally turned to me, his eyes cold and dismissive. "You probably got that from thrashing around. You have always been clumsy. Now you' re just being malicious. I am so disappointed in you."

He didn' t believe me. He didn' t even consider it. My word meant nothing against her tears.

He wrapped his arm around Tiffany, leading her away. "Come on, sweetie. Let' s get you away from her."

Ethan gave me one last look of utter disgust. "You' re pathetic, Chloe," he spat, before following them, leaving me alone on the cold steps.

I stared at my bleeding arm, the crimson drops stark against the white marble. The physical pain was sharp, but the coldness seeping into my bones had nothing to do with the stone floor. It was the chilling realization that I was utterly, completely alone in the house I once called home.