Three

Fidelia’s body lay still on the cold hospital floor, blood pooling beneath her cracked skull like some sick, dramatic painting she never asked to star in but the time it wasn’t painting it was her blood.

For a moment, no one moved.

Alice’s gasp was pure theater. Bridget’s hand flew to her mouth — but her eyes stayed ice-cold, calculating. Silas just stared at the spreading blood on the white tiles, his jaw tight like he was more annoyed than worried.

“What did you just do Bridget? That’s wasn’t necessary”

“Oh please, like it was intentional”

Still no one moved to help her. Of course they didn’t.

Fidelia felt extreme pain ripping through her. Her head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it, her entire body screamed, and she could feel life slipping away like sand through her fingers.

This can’t be how it ends. Not like this. Not because of them.

She could hear the distant wail of an ambulance siren.

It seemed like after all the drama they had called an ambulance for Fidelia.

She could feel hands lifting her, moving her roughly. Her eyes cracked open just a fraction, and she caught blurry glimpses of herself being rushed into the hospital.

“Ma’am, can you tell us your name?”

“Stay with me!” A nurse kept shaking her as they burst through the doors.

Fidelia was fighting for her life right now, trapped in some horrible glitch between consciousness and darkness.

‘I regret ever walking back into that house. I regret everything.’ Fidelia said in her mind.

One moment she felt awake, the next she was drowning in unconsciousness again. In and out. In and out. Like the universe was taunting her.

When she finally clawed her way back to awareness, a familiar voice slithered into her ears.

“Doctor, please… what’s her condition?” her stepmother asked in a low, worried tone.

‘It was all Fake. All fake. Alice was performing like her life depended on it.’

The doctor slipped his hands into his white coat and spoke quietly, glancing at Fidelia on the bed. “I honestly can’t say for certain right now. She’s in critical condition, and despite our best efforts, her prognosis is very poor. The chances of her survival are unfortunately quite low.”

He looked straight at her. “Even if she survives, her recovery might take weeks… even months.”

“Please save her at all costs,” Alice said, her voice trembling just right. She even dabbed at her eyes with a tissue like some Oscar-worthy actress. “I don’t want to lose her.”

Fidelia wanted to scream out but she couldn’t say a word.

‘You don’t want to lose the shares, you mean.’

“Ma’am, we are doing everything we can,” the doctor replied, “but the head injury is severe. We need her stable before any operation.”

“I don’t care what you need to do,” Alice snapped suddenly, the fake concern dropping like a mask. “Just make sure she doesn’t die. Do you hear me?!”

‘There she is. The real Alice.’

Another voice cut in. “Is she going to wake up?” Silas this time.

Fidelia’s blood boiled just hearing him. How dare you even ask?

“We can’t say for sure,” the doctor said.

“She needs to wake up,” Silas pressed sharply. “The wedding—”

“Silas!” Alice cut him off. “Now is not the time!”

Fidelia wanted to laugh through the pain. Of course the wedding is all he cares about.

“Big sis,” Bridget’s voice came out soft and sweet, sickeningly fake. “Please don’t die on me. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Just… wake up.”

‘Big sis?’ Fidelia wanted to vomit. ‘You never called me that. Not once in your miserable life. What’s all this act about?’

After a while, when they thought the coast was clear and the police were out of earshot, the masks dropped completely.

“Do you think she heard us?” Bridget whispered.

Bridget fake act suddenly dropped replaced with her true cruel self.