Chapter 2

Elena Hart held back her tears as the cell door shut. Oh, how desperately her eyes pleaded for tears. No one knew how much she wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. What she felt was more than tears just streaming down her face.

Her heart hurt –or perhaps burned, she couldn't tell. It was like someone poured acid where her heart used to be.

The prison reeked of iron and sweat, so thick it settled in her hair and clung to her clothes. Every breath made her chest ache, heavy and bitter, like the walls had been swallowing hope for decades.

She stood in the middle of the cell, her wrist swollen from the bruise and cuff. To her, the weight of Adrian's silence was heavier than the concrete walls around her.

She was just nineteen, yet she felt as though her life was over.

The cell was small, it had a small space for a bunk, a sink, and a toilet that looked neglected. Her hand felt cold as she touched the paintbrush necklace Adrian had given her hours ago.

It felt like a wicked joke to her now, a reminder of his hands on hers. His voice promised things she was foolish enough to believe.

 “You are mine, Elena”. 

She squeezed the pendant till it became warm and bit into her palm. She wanted to rip it off but she was unable to let go of it.

Everything felt like a sad dream that she couldn't wake up from.

“Lights out at ten!” A guard shouted, or was she acting out of order? Elena couldn't tell. She flinched from the cold, her body still tired from the gala, and from the moment everything shattered.

She could still imagine Vanessa's crocodile tears, Claire's trembling lips, and the way Adrian's eyes turned cold towards her. She sank onto the bunk, the mattress thin, cold and lumpy. Then she pressed her hands to her face trying to block out everything — All she had felt within the past few hours. She couldn’t help but sigh.

She had pleaded with them, Adrian, Claire and even the detective who sneered at her as he dragged her down to the prison.

“I didn't do it”, she said, over and over again until she lost her voice and her throat ached. But no one listened. Not even the cops nor the crowd, not the man she thought loved her.

She had always been so sure of him, the way he held her like she was something precious, like a gem too rare to find. But when Vanessa pointed a finger at her, when the vial fell from her purse, he did look at her like she was a stranger. Worse like she was a monster.

Just the betrayal alone cut deeper than the fear of this place. She could still feel the guard's hand dragging her away. Her screams for Adrian were swallowed by the noise in the gala.

She had looked back one last time, hoping he would say something, just anything. But he was there, his face cold and void of any emotions, not even pity, letting them take her away.

A low moan came from the cell next door, followed by a loud curse. Elena's stomach twisted as if someone was stabbing it with needles.

She wasn't naive, she had heard stories about prison, about what happened to people like her, soft and small and too trusting. Too bad she didn't think such a thing would befall her.

She pulled her knees to her chest trying to make herself smaller and invisible. Was that even possible ? Her hazel eyes scanned the shadows, waiting for the next threat.

The guard's boot thudded past, and the light went off. Making the whole cellblock to become dark. Elena's breath started coming off fast with her heart beating rapidly.

She wasn't ready for this, not for the cold nor for the loneliness and not for the way her mind kept replaying Claire's words: “I saw her tamper with the drink”.

Claire, her best friend since they were seven, who had braided her hair and shared secrets with her under blankets. They told each other everything.

Then why? What had Vanessa said to make her lie? And why hadn't Adrian fought for her?

She couldn't sleep that night nor imagine closing her eyes all in the name of sleeping. Night became day for her because every shout, clank and sound kept her on edge.

By morning her body ached and her eyes were gritty. She couldn't even explain how she felt. A guard forced down a tray of a soggy heap of pale, watery stew that sloshed on the tray and smelled faintly of burnt onions.

She forced it down her throat and gagged on the fowl taste, the gritty taste hit her tongue. Her stomach twisted like she was going to vomit, but she swallowed anyway, each mouthful a reminder that hunger didn’t care about dignity. She had to survive this. She had to.

On the other side of the city, Adrian Cole sat in his penthouse office, staring at the skyline he owned but hardly was he seeing it. His hands were steady, but on the inside, he was bothered and unravelling.

The hospital had pumped his stomach and flushed the poison out, but they didn't flush the ache in his chest. They should have done it. Because the ache in his chest wouldn't budge.

Elena. Her name was like a knife, twisting every time he thought of her face. It was pale and tear streaked, screaming his name as they dragged her away.

He hadn't slept either. The memory of her voice, desperate and pleading haunted him. “It wasn't me!” He wanted to believe her, of course he wanted to. He even wanted to grab her too and run from that banquet hall, but the evidence was like a noose around her neck, the vial in her purse.

Claire's confession as she was trembling to let the words out, Vanessa's tears, so convincing, he did almost believe her. And his mom Margaret whispered in his ears: “She's not one of us Adrian. She never was”.

He had laid there, rigid as they took her. He had told himself that it was justice, that if she did poison him, she deserved it. But now alone, he felt doubt. Elena with her gentle soft hands and hazel eyes that saw too much. Could she really have done it?

He did let her into his world, past walls he had built after his family's ruin, after years of betrayal and loss. She made him feel human again. And he has turned his back on her.

His phone buzzed. Richard Hale, his right hand man, stood in the doorway with an unreadable face. “You look like hell”, Richard said, tossing a file onto the desk.

“This is a preliminary report from Reeve. The vial had traces of cyanide and her fingerprint was on it” Richard said.

Adrian clenched his jaw, his face cold. “And?”

“And nothing the case is airtight, she's going down for attempted murder”. Richard's voice was flat like he practiced the words before spilling it out. But his eyes held something Adrian couldn't place. “ You did the right thing letting them take her,” he said.

“Did I?” Adrian's voice was low and dangerous, but he stood walking to the window. Down below, the city went one busily oblivious of the war going on inside him.

He had built his empire from nothing, growing his way up after his parents scandal left him with nothing other than debts and a name to rebuild.

He didn't trust easily nor did he love easily. But Elena managed to slip through, with her quiet strength and the way she blushed when he kissed her.

Now she's gone, and he is drowning in question. “What if she's innocent?” he said more to himself than to Richard.

Richard snorted. “Innocent?”, come on Adrian, you saw the evidence and you felt that she played you”.

He wanted to argue, to defend her but the words got stuck on his throat. Instead he grabbed his coat. “I need air”. And he left the room.

He didn't go far. The hospital was a blur of white walls and antiseptic, but he needed answers. Detective Reeves met him in the quiet Hallways with a smirk.

“Your girl's not talking,” Reeve said. “She just kept saying she didn't do it”.

Adrian folded his arms in anger. “Anything else?” he asked. Reeve shrugged. “Vanessa Hart has been helpful. She said Elena has always been unstable and jealous. And Claire Adams backed her up. You are lucky you dodged this one”.

Lucky indeed, the word tasted bitter and he left without saying another word, his mind was spinning. Vanessa's tears, Claire's guilt and Elena's screams didn't add up but he couldn't face her. Not yet not when his own guilt was eating him up alive.

Back in the prison, Elena faced her first real test, the prison smelled of sweat and dust and she realised this was no ordinary day.

A woman loomed head, tall, scarred and with a look that could kill someone. Then she stepped too close and Elena was scared. “Pretty thing like you” the woman said, her voice low but bold and dangerous, like a predator testing its prey.

“You won't last a week,” she said. Each landed like a blow.

Elena's heart was pounding, but she stood her ground, she wouldn't allow defeat. She held the necklace like a lifeline. “Backoff”, she said, voice steady despite the fear.

She wasn't the girl who had walked into the gala, soft and hopeful. That girl was gone. She would survive this, even if it broke her.

And somewhere deep down, she held onto the truth: she hadn't poisoned Adrian. Someone did it. And when she got out, if she ever did, she would make them pay.