Chapter 4

Two days later, the pressure from the Bennetts became unbearable. A new scandal had erupted around Chloe. A young songwriter accused her of stealing a melody for one of the hit songs on her new album-one of my songs. The media was having a field day.

Ethan stormed into my room, his face dark with anger. He threw a stack of newspapers on the bed. The headlines screamed Chloe's name.

"This is your fault," he accused, his voice low and menacing. "You must have leaked this. You're trying to ruin her."

"I haven't spoken to a soul since I got out of prison," I said calmly, my heart beating a steady, cold rhythm.

"I don't believe you," he snarled. "But it doesn't matter. You're going to fix this. You will issue a public statement. You will say that you gave Chloe the song as a gift before you went to prison, and this other songwriter is just a clout-chasing liar."

I looked at him, at the brother who once protected me from bullies on the playground, now the biggest bully of all. "No."

"What did you say?" he asked, disbelief warring with his anger.

"I said no. I will not lie for her again."

His face contorted with rage. He took a step towards me, his hand raised, and for a second, I thought he was going to hit me. But then, a soft cry came from the hallway.

"Please, don't fight because of me." Chloe stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and filled with tears. She held a small, sharp letter opener in her hand, the tip pointed towards her own wrist. "If my life is causing so much pain... maybe I should just end it."

"Chloe, no!" Ethan and Noah, who had appeared behind her, shouted in unison.

Ethan rushed to her, gently taking the letter opener from her hand. Noah guided her to a chair, stroking her back soothingly. It was a perfectly choreographed performance of despair.

"It's all my fault," she sobbed. "I just wanted to make you all proud."

Ethan turned to me, his eyes blazing. "Look what you've done. You've pushed her to the edge. We need to talk. All of us. Now."

He forced me into the living room. Chloe sat between Ethan and Noah on the sofa, looking small and fragile. It was an interrogation.

"Just admit you're behind this, Sarah," Noah said, his tone pleading. "We can make this go away quietly."

Chloe looked at me, a flicker of triumph in her tear-filled eyes. "I know you're angry, Sarah," she said, her voice trembling. "I forgive you. I just want us to be a family again."

She stood up and walked towards me, her arms outstretched as if for a hug. "Let's just forget this ever happened."

As she got closer, she stumbled, her body crashing into mine. Her hand, hidden from the others, flew to her own cheek, and she slapped herself, hard. Then she let out a piercing scream and fell to the floor.

"She hit me!" Chloe shrieked, clutching her face, a red mark already blooming on her skin. "She attacked me!"

Before I could even react, Ethan grabbed my arms, his grip like iron. "You monster! I knew you were unstable!"

He dragged me, kicking and struggling, to my room and threw me inside, locking the door from the outside. "You're not leaving this room until you learn to control yourself!" he roared through the door.

Hours later, my phone started buzzing with notifications. News alerts, social media tags, hateful comments. Ethan had used his influence. He had leaked a "source close to the family" story. It painted me as a violent, jealous, and mentally unstable ex-convict, hell-bent on destroying my angelic sister's life. They even released a grainy security photo of me "attacking" Chloe-a photo cleverly angled to hide the truth.

The world turned on me. Death threats filled my inbox. My face was everywhere, branded as a villain. The walls of the room started to close in. The familiar, suffocating panic began to rise, the memories of prison, of being trapped and helpless, flooding my senses. I curled into a ball on the floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

The door finally unlocked. It was Noah. He looked down at my shaking form on the floor, his expression a mixture of pity and frustration.

"Ethan is worried you're a danger to yourself," he said, his voice void of any real warmth. "He wants to take you to a charity gala tomorrow night. To show everyone that we're a united family. To show them you're not the monster the media is making you out to be."

I looked up at him, my eyes burning. "He's the one who made me a monster." I told him about the video Chloe had sent me, the one of my assault in prison. "How did she get that, Noah? How?"

He flinched, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before he masked it. "I don't know what you're talking about. Chloe would never do something like that. You're just... you're not thinking clearly."

The next evening, they forced me into a dress and took me to the gala. It was a fundraiser for victims of violent crime. The irony was suffocating. I was a prop, placed beside Chloe to sell their story of a happy, forgiving family.

As Chloe was on stage, accepting an award for her "charitable work," a woman burst through the crowd, her face streaked with tears and rage.

"Liar!" the woman screamed, pointing at Chloe. "You're a liar and a thief!" She turned to the stunned audience. "That's the woman who was driving the car that hit my husband! She crippled him! And this one," she pointed at me, "took the blame! They paid us for our silence, but I can't live with it anymore!"

Chaos erupted. Cameras flashed. People shouted.

In that moment of pandemonium, I looked at Ethan and Noah. Their first instinct, their only instinct, was to protect Chloe. They rushed to the stage, flanking her, shielding her from the screaming woman and the flashing cameras.

They left me standing alone in the middle of the crowd. Utterly, completely, and finally abandoned.