CHAPTER 2:

Isabella's POV

I looked around, searching for anyone close enough to help. There was no one. She was alone. We were alone.

I don't remember hitting the marble. 

I just remember being on my knees beside her.

"Scarlett!" Her face was pale, slack, her dark hair spread out like something from a nightmare, her legs twisted at an angle that made my stomach turn.

"Someone call an ambulance!" My voice was shaking, it didn't sound like mine. "Please, somebody call—" 

People started gathering. Some pulled out their phones. Some filmed. Some just stared.

I grabbed her hand. Warm. She was breathing. That was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

"Stay with me, Scarlett," I begged her even though she couldn't hear me. "Please. Don't do this to me. Stay."

That's when I heard it, a voice behind me, sharp with accusation.

"She did this." A murmur, then louder. "She did this to her."

I turned and saw Mira, Scarlett's friend, the one who'd never looked at me without disdain. She was pointing at me, her face twisted with something that looked almost satisfied underneath the horror.

"I saw them arguing," Mira said, loud enough that the whole hallway turned. "Isabella and Scarlett. Screaming at each other ten minutes ago. Everyone knows Isabella's been jealous of her sister for years. Jealous of the money. Jealous of Adrian." My heart dropped.

"That's not true," I said. "That's not what happened." I stood, my hands shaking. Something dark was smeared across my palm. Blood. "I left. I went downstairs. I wasn't even up here when—"

"Then why were you the one who found her?" someone called out. 

"Convenient, isn't it?"

"I heard her scream! I ran back up because I heard her scream—"

"So she screamed and collapsed just like that?" Another voice, Mira's friend, Miranda, this time. 

"You expect us to believe that?"

I didn't answer. I could see the trap closing around me, and nothing I said was going to open it.

Nobody was listening anymore. The crowd had already decided. I saw it in the way they inched away from me like I was contagious, in the way their phones turned toward my face instead of toward the girl who needed help.

"I came here to tell her to stop lying to Adrian," I said, desperate now, my voice cracking. "That's the only reason I was up here. I didn't touch her. I would never—"

"Everyone knows you've always wanted what she has." Mira's voice cut through the noise like a blade. 

"Now you finally got it. Congratulations, Isabella." She added.

My blood went cold.

"Stop lying. Scarlett is my sister. I would never hurt her."

“You're a liar, a pretender.” She said ruthlessly.

“I'm not,” I said firmly.

Suddenly, the paramedics pushed through before anyone could say more. I stumbled back to let them work. They lifted her onto a stretcher, and I watched the ambulance doors swallow her whole.

I stood in that hallway, already convicted, blood drying on my hand, and I understood something for the first time: the truth wasn't going to save me here. I would be whatever Mira decided I was.

I didn't know yet that this was only the beginning.

Security arrived fast. Two men in dark suits pushed through the crowd, radios crackling. The taller one, 

broad-shouldered, gray at the temples, moved with the kind of calm that only comes from years of handling disasters. One look at the scene and he started giving orders.

The crowd scattered instantly. Phones vanished into pockets. Funny how fast people remember their manners the moment someone with real authority shows up.

"Who found her?" he asked, scanning the hallway.

"She did." Mira again, pointing at me like I was evidence instead of a person. "Isabella Hart. Scarlett's sister. 

They were fighting right before it happened."

His eyes landed on me, sharp, assessing. I braced for the same accusation that had been drowning me for the last ten minutes.

Instead, he crouched beside me. Checked my hands. Noticed the blood, the shaking, the angle I'd been kneeling at. Whatever he saw there, it wasn't guilt.

"Mark Donald," he said. "Head of security. Did you push her?"

"No." My voice broke on the word. "I swear, I was already downstairs. I heard her scream and I ran back up. I would never touch her."

"I believe you." He said it plainly, like a fact, not comfort. Then he turned to Mira, and his voice hardened. "You saw an argument. You didn't see a fall. 

There's a difference. I'd be careful which one you keep repeating."

Mira's mouth snapped shut.

Mark was already moving. "She's your sister?"

"Yes."

"Then you're coming with us."

The next twenty minutes blurred into sirens, fluorescent light, and my own heartbeat pounding too loud in my ears. Mark and his men rode with us to the hospital. Somewhere in the blur, he pressed a card into my hand.

"Take care of her," he said quietly, just for me. "Whatever happens next, that girl needs someone who isn't waiting for her to fail."

I didn't understand what he meant. Not then. It would take me longer to realize how few people in Scarlett's life had ever loved her without wanting something back.

I was still sitting in the hospital corridor, her blood dried brown on my hands, when the doors at the end of the hall slammed open hard enough to bounce off the wall.

Adrian.

I'd never seen him like this. Not the composed, untouchable heir I'd watched from a distance for years.

 This was something unraveling, tie gone, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

His grey eyes found me instantly. For one terrible second, I thought he might actually put his hands on me.

"Where is she?" A demand, thrown like a weapon.

"They're operating. I don't know anything yet—"

"You were with her." He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. 

"You were fighting with her. I got five calls before I even made it out of my meeting, all saying the same thing. 

That you and Scarlett were screaming at each other right before she fell." His jaw tightened. "So you did this to her."

"No." The word left me before I could think. "I left before it happened, Adrian. I swear to you—"

"Don't." His voice cracked like a whip. 

"Don't you dare say my name like you have any right to it."

"Do you think I won't find out?" 

He grabbed my hand, dragging me close to him.

"What are you trying to do?" I shouted, shoving against his grip, my heart breaking in a way I didn't have words for yet.