Chapter 3

"Layla's back," Rebecca whispered as she looked up at Joe. "Joe, I'm sure Layla doesn't want anything bad to happen to me either. Don't blame her."

Joe's hand paused, and he gave me a cold, sweeping glance. "If she actually gave a damn about you, she wouldn't be letting you take the blame."

I stood there, feeling a chill run all the way down my spine.

Dad must have already told Rebecca that I was the one going to prison.

Yet, she clearly hadn't mentioned a single word of it to Joe. She wanted Joe to keep misunderstanding and hating me.

I recognized that wound on her wrist.

In my past life, Rebecca had cut her wrist at home just to avoid going to jail.

The cut wasn't deep, but it scared Joe out of his mind and strengthened his resolve to protect her at all costs.

And now, she was pulling the same trick.

"Joe, don't talk about Layla like that," Rebecca whimpered, tugging on his sleeve with tears in her eyes. "It's all my fault. I'm useless. I couldn't do anything to take the weight off Dad's shoulders."

"Don't be ridiculous, Rebecca," Joe said as he pulled her into his arms. "The Clarke family's mess has nothing to do with you. Layla is the one who needs to take responsibility."

He looked at me with eyes sharp enough to cut. "Layla, are you happy now? You pushed Rebecca to the brink of suicide. Are you proud of yourself?"

Watching them hold each other, I only felt a hollow sense of irony.

I was the one heading behind bars, yet he couldn't spare me a single shred of concern.

Unwilling to waste another second on their drama, I turned and headed upstairs.

The next morning, I got ready to hand myself in to the police.

When I opened my bedroom door, I found an elegant first-aid kit sitting on the floor with a sticky note attached. "Remember to put ointment on."

It was Joe's handwriting.

I froze for a moment.

This was an old habit of ours.

Whenever he'd upset me as a kid, he'd apologize by giving me something I liked.

He choked me yesterday, so sending this kit was his idea of an apology.

Except now, the gesture was completely meaningless.

I left the box untouched and walked straight downstairs.

As I reached the bottom, Rebecca suddenly rushed down behind me.

"Layla, leaving so early?" Her voice dripped with sweet venom.

I stopped and turned around to look at her.

She walked up to me, smirking smugly. "Once you leave today, you won't be back for ten long years. Prison isn't going to be anywhere near as comfortable as home."

Stepping closer, she leaned into my ear and whispered in a voice meant only for me, "Who knows? You might be joining your mother sooner than you think."

My mind went instantly blank as rage surged straight to my head.

"Rebecca! Say that again!" I grabbed her by the collar.

Her laugh grew even more unhinged. "What? Hit a nerve? Your mother died young, and you'll end up just like her!"

Shaking with pure fury, I raised my hand to slap her across the face.

Just then, Rebecca caught sight of a figure coming down the hall, and a dark smile flickered at the corner of her mouth.

She grabbed my hand out of nowhere, let out a piercing scream, and dragged me down the stairs with her.

"Ah! Layla! Don't push me!"

Everything spun out of control.

When we hit the floor, Rebecca landed on top of me, using me as a human cushion.

The back of my head slammed violently against the hardwood. A sharp, searing pain shot through me as warm blood started running down my neck.

My vision went dark and hazy.

A pair of leather shoes appeared right before my eyes.

It was Joe.

Summoning every last drop of strength, I reached out my hand and feebly rasped out, "Joe… Help… Help me…"

He didn't even look at me. He stepped right over me, bending down to scoop Rebecca off my body.

"Rebecca! Are you okay?" His voice cracked with sheer panic.

Rebecca wept hysterically in his arms. "Joe, I'm so scared… Layla tried to kill me…"

He set her down gently on the couch. Once he made sure she was just shaken up and not seriously hurt, he turned to look at me.

His expression was terrifyingly dark.

I struggled to sit up. Blood dripped from the back of my head and soaked my collar.

"Joe, it was her—" I tried to explain.

"Enough!" Joe cut me off with a furious roar. "Layla, will you not stop until you've pushed Rebecca to her death?"