Chapter 4

Bailey Douglas POV:

"On your knees."

Kane' s voice was devoid of all emotion, which was far more terrifying than his anger. The word hung in the air of the now-silent living room, a death sentence.

I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I didn't do it."

"I said," he repeated, taking a menacing step forward, "on your knees."

Two of Jameson's bodyguards appeared at my side. They grabbed my arms, their grips like iron vices. Before I could resist, one of them kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to crash down onto the hard marble floor. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my shins, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Blake emerged from the shadows. In his hand, he held a long, thin leather whip. The one our father used to use on the hunting dogs. He flicked his wrist, and it cut through the air with a vicious whistle.

Crack.

The sound was shockingly loud in the silent room. The whip landed across my back, the impact stealing my breath. The pain was immediate and searing, a line of fire that burned through the thin fabric of my dress. I gasped, my body arching forward.

"Do you admit it?" Derrick asked, his voice a low growl from somewhere above me.

Tears sprang to my eyes, but my voice was steady. "No."

Crack.

The second lash landed on top of the first. This time, I couldn't stop the small cry that escaped my lips. I tasted blood as my teeth bit through my lower lip. I felt a warm wetness spreading across my back. The white silk of my dress was turning red.

"You're a disgrace," Kane spat. "Haleigh is dying, and you do this to her?"

Crack.

"You're jealous. You've always been jealous."

Crack. Crack.

The blows rained down, each one a fresh wave of agony. My back felt like it was being flayed open. My mind began to disconnect from my body, the pain becoming a distant, roaring ocean. A pool of red was growing on the white marble beneath me.

"Please... stop..." Maria's voice, choked with sobs, came from the doorway. "You'll kill her!"

"Get her out of here," Derrick commanded without turning his head. A guard dragged her away, her pleas fading down the hall.

The whipping continued. I don't know for how long. Time ceased to have meaning. All that existed was the whistle of the leather, the searing impact, and the cold, hateful voices of my brothers.

"You are nothing but a pale imitation."

"A worthless substitute."

"She was right to call you a thief. You stole her life."

With the final lash, my world went black. The last thing I saw was the crimson pool spreading on the floor and the cold, satisfied look in my brothers' eyes.

They left me in my room for three days. No food, no water, no medical attention. Just the throbbing, raw agony of my back. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the sounds that filtered through the wall from Haleigh's room next door.

Laughter. So much laughter.

"Oh, Jameson, you're peeling it all wrong!" Haleigh's delighted giggle.

"Derrick, can you read to me? My head hurts."

"Blake, I'm cold. Can you fetch my cashmere throw?"

"Kane, that soup is delicious! You're the best brother in the world."

And worst of all, Jameson's low, rumbling chuckle. A sound that used to be my comfort, now a torment.

Each laugh, each murmur of affection, was another turn of the knife in my already shattered heart. I buried my face in my pillow, my nails digging into my palms until they bled, trying to block out the sounds of the life I had so briefly been allowed to borrow. I thought I was numb, that I had no more tears to cry, but with every breath, a fresh wave of despair washed over me.

On the fourth morning, I forced myself out of bed. My back was a sheet of fire, every movement an exercise in agony. Clinging to the wall for support, I shuffled out of my room and toward the grand staircase.

I heard their voices drifting up from the foyer, animated and excited.

"The pod of dolphins has been spotted off the coast again," Jameson was saying. "You know how much Haleigh wants to see them."

"We should take her out on the yacht," Derrick suggested immediately. "The sea air will do her good."

"Excellent idea," Blake and Kane chorused.

I froze on the landing, my hand trembling on the banister. They were going to the sea. The sea, where the salt air would feel like acid on the open wounds on my back.

"Bailey!" Haleigh' s voice, bright and cheerful, suddenly called out from below. She had spotted me. "You're finally out of bed! We were getting worried."

The four men looked up. Their expressions were a mixture of guilt and annoyance. I must have looked a fright. I was gaunt, the dress I wore hanging off my skeletal frame. There were dark bruises on my wrists and face from where the guards had held me.

Haleigh didn't wait for a response. She bounded up the stairs, her face a picture of innocent concern, and looped her arm through mine. "Come on, we're all going to see the dolphins! It'll be so much fun!"

I flinched and tried to pull my arm away, but her grip was like steel.

Her eyes instantly filled with tears. "Bailey," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I know you're angry. I know you think I'm trying to take everything from you. But I forgive you for what you did at the party. My reputation is ruined, but it doesn't matter. I don't have much time left. Let's just... be sisters again."

It was a masterful performance.

Jameson strode to the bottom of the stairs, his face a thundercloud. "Bailey, what is wrong with you? Haleigh is forgiving you, and you're still acting like this?"

"She's more gracious than you'll ever be," Derrick sneered.

I bit down on my lip, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. I looked at their faces-Jameson's anger, Derrick's contempt, Blake's disappointment, Kane's cold indifference. These were the men I had given my heart to. They looked like strangers.

They forced me onto the yacht. They said it was to make Haleigh happy.

The sun was blinding, the sea a brilliant, mocking blue. Haleigh, full of energy for a dying woman, decided she wanted a barbecue on the deck. My brothers, despite their concerns for her "fragile health," couldn't deny her anything. She threatened to jump overboard if they didn't let her have her way.

I sat in a corner, invisible again. No one remembered I had a severe seafood allergy. No one remembered my back was an open wound. The salty air was already making my skin prickle with pain.

Then, for a moment, Jameson's gaze met mine. He seemed to notice me for the first time all day. "Bailey," he started, a flicker of something-guilt? concern?-in his eyes. "You shouldn't be in the sun. Your back..."

I simply said, "I'm allergic to shellfish."

The air grew awkward. He looked like he was about to get up, to find me something else to eat, but just then, a sudden, violent squall blew across the water. The yacht pitched wildly.

The heavy barbecue grill tipped over. Hot coals and flaming skewers scattered across the deck.

In a single, unified motion, Jameson and my three brothers threw themselves in front of Haleigh, creating a human shield to protect her from the flying embers.

A single, large piece of charcoal, glowing red-hot, landed on the hem of my long summer dress. The light fabric went up in flames in an instant.

Pain, unimaginable and all-consuming, engulfed my legs. I screamed, falling to the deck and rolling, trying to smother the fire.

I screamed and screamed.

Not one of them turned around.