Chapter 4

The hospital was a blur of white coats and antiseptic smells. They diagnosed a second-degree burn on my arm and told me I needed to stay for observation. I filled out the paperwork myself, listing my emergency contact as "none."

For two days, my phone remained silent. No calls, no texts. Not from Angela. Not from Chaney. It was as if I had ceased to exist.

On the third day, I was taking a slow walk down the sterile corridor when I saw them. Giovanni was in a private room at the end of the hall, the one reserved for VIPs. Angela and Chaney were fussing over him.

He had a tiny red mark on his hand, the size of a quarter. He was milking it for all it was worth.

"Does it still hurt, Gio?" Angela asked, her voice full of concern, applying a special burn cream with the tenderness of a lover.

"It's nothing, really," he said bravely, wincing for effect. "I'm just glad it wasn't you or Chaney."

Chaney handed him a peeled grape. "You're so brave, Uncle Gio. Not like my dad. He probably did it on purpose."

I stood in the doorway, invisible to them. The injustice was so profound it almost made me laugh. I had a serious burn that required medical attention. He had a blister. Yet he was the hero, and I was the villain.

The next day, Angela insisted on a "family outing" to the Lopez family country club to "de-stress." It was a command performance. I knew it was about maintaining the public image of a happy family on the brink of a mayoral victory. Refusing would only lead to more drama.

The club was an oasis of green lawns and blue water. Angela, looking stunning in a white swimsuit, lay by the pool, talking on her phone. Chaney was splashing in the shallow end. Giovanni was schmoozing with some of Angela's political donors.

I sat by myself at a table under an umbrella, nursing a glass of iced tea, feeling like a ghost at a party.

After a while, Giovanni strolled over, a towel slung over his shoulder.

"Not swimming, Alex?" he asked, his tone dripping with false concern. "The water's great."

"I'm fine here," I said.

He sat down across from me, leaning in conspiratorially. "You know, Angela really loves you. She's just... under a lot of pressure. This campaign is everything to her." He sighed, as if sharing a heavy burden. "She told me once, back when we first started working together, that she married you because you were stable. Grounded. Someone who would never overshadow her."

The words were meant to sound like a compliment, but they were a carefully crafted insult. He was telling me she chose me because I was mediocre. Controllable.

"She knew you wouldn't compete with her," he continued, smiling. "And you haven't. You've been the perfect support system. She's very grateful."

I stared at him, the rage a cold, hard knot in my stomach. He was enjoying this, peeling back the layers of my life and showing me the rot underneath.

He stood up. "Well, I'm going for a dip." He walked to the edge of the pool and paused, looking back at me. "You should really come in. It'll help you relax."

I didn't move. I hated swimming. Angela knew that. I'd almost drowned as a kid, a fact I'd shared with her on one of our first dates.

Giovanni suddenly lost his footing, his arms flailing wildly. He stumbled backward, crashing into my table. The momentum sent my chair tipping over the edge, and I plunged into the deep end of the pool.

The shock of the cold water, the sudden disorientation-it brought back all the old terror. Water filled my nose and mouth. My lungs burned. I flailed, my arms slapping uselessly at the surface. I couldn't find the bottom.

Panic, stark and absolute, seized me. I was drowning.

Through the distorted blue, I saw figures on the edge of the pool. Angela was screaming.

"Gio! Oh my god, Gio!"

She dove in, but she swam right past me. She went straight for Giovanni, who was theatrically coughing and sputtering near the edge.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he gasped, clinging to her.

I was sinking. I managed to get my head above water for a second, gulping for air. "Help!" I choked out.

Angela looked over at me, her face a mask of fury. "Alex, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to drown Giovanni?"

Chaney was at the poolside, screaming at me. "You pushed him! I saw you! You're trying to kill Uncle Gio!"

A lifeguard was running towards the pool, but Chaney stood in his way, her small body rigid with rage. "Don't help him! He's a bad man!"

The world was starting to go dark at the edges. My limbs felt heavy, my struggles weaker. My last coherent thought was of them-my wife, my daughter, and the man who had replaced me-watching me die.

And doing nothing.