Chapter 5

Sasha hadn't expected him to recognize a bracelet before he recognized her.

Her chest tightened, emotions swirling too fast to name. She opened her mouth—

"Sasha, you didn't get my permission," Mira cut in. "Why'd you steal my bracelet?"

She stepped in fast, claws out. Her nails raked across Sasha's hand, slicing clean lines of blood.

Sasha hissed, yanking back—too slow.

Mira threw herself backward like she'd been shoved.

Vincent's face shifted in an instant. He caught Mira like it was instinct, eyes locking onto Sasha—cold and unreadable.

"So that's it. I almost believed you." His voice dropped. "You stole Mira's bracelet. And when you got exposed, you attacked her? Sasha, you're disgusting."

No hesitation. No space for her side. Just blind trust in Mira.

Something icy slid down Sasha's spine.

She lifted her bleeding hand, voice shaking with raw, helpless fury. "If you remember this bracelet, then you should've noticed—Mira never wore it after you got your sight back. Because she doesn't even know it exists. She was never the one who—"

Crack.

Donald's hand smashed across her face.

Everything went black as she crashed into the champagne tower.

Glass shattered around her as the champagne tower collapsed, soaking her in sticky cold.

She hit the floor hard, cuts blooming across her skin, her whole body screaming. Tears mixed with blood and glass.

Diana stalked over, face like stone. Without a word, she dumped her wine straight over Sasha's face.

"Mira didn't wear it," she snapped, "because it was damaged and sent out for repairs. The butler just got it back today. You slipped it on while we were gone and tried to pass it off as yours?"

Donald jumped right in. "It's bad enough you cause drama at home, but today? Your sister's birthday? You embarrassed the entire Clarke family. That bracelet was your grandmother's favorite—meant for her most beloved, Mira. You? You were never in the running."

Vincent didn't even question it. Just like that, he believed them.

He held Mira close while she fake-cried like her lungs were collapsing, gently wiping her tears.

Then he crossed the room, crouched by Sasha, and grabbed her bruised wrist.

He unclasped the bracelet, wiped the blood off with his handkerchief, and gently fastened it around Mira's wrist like it was sacred.

"This holds your grandmother's love—and our five years together," he said softly. "I won't let anyone stain that."

After that, Vincent turned to Donald, his tone ice-cold.

"Mr. Clarke, Sasha stole family property and showed her true colors. Aren't you going to discipline her?"

Donald nodded like he'd been waiting for permission. He barked for someone to bring a whip and grabbed it himself.

"By family rules, what Sasha did today earns fifty lashes. I failed to raise her right and ruined everyone's celebration. I'll punish this unfilial daughter right here and uphold the Clarke name."

The whip cracked down.

Sasha's body jolted, her back torn open on impact. Pain exploded through her spine.

A scream ripped from her throat. Blood soaked through her clothes in seconds.

Everything blurred. Her voice came out in shattered gasps.

"I didn't... steal anything. That bracelet... it was mine. Grandma gave it to me..."

She lay there, shaking, drowning in pain and blood.

Vincent didn't flinch. He just covered Mira's eyes and walked her away.

As their silhouettes faded, Sasha shut her bloodshot eyes.

She bit down on her torn lip, already smeared with blood and tears, and stayed silent.

When it was over, Donald and Diana didn't even look at her. They just left.

One by one, the guests and staff trickled out, whispering, sneering—no one stopped. No one cared.

She stayed there, wrecked on the cold floor, the lights clicking off around her.

Darkness swallowed everything.