Chapter 4

In that instant, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Chloe snickered. My mother looked satisfied.

Vivian's lips curved, and a look of triumph crossed her face. She pushed her outstretched hand a little closer. "Hand it over, little sister."

I looked at the perfectly manicured hand in front of me and suddenly laughed.

I took a velvet pouch out of my bag.

Inside were the official seal of the Moretti Art Foundation and the black secondary card linked to the joint account.

Three years earlier, as Gabriel's mother, Eleanor Moretti, lay dying, she pressed these into my hands with trembling fingers and held on tight. "Sweetheart, Gabe has a hot temper. He goes to extremes. From now on, I'm counting on you to hold this family together for him."

The night she died, Gabriel clung to me and cried like a lost little boy. It was the only time he ever let me see him weak.

I thought that meant he trusted me.

Only now did I understand. I'd just been his stopgap after he lost Vivian.

I set the pouch on the table and nudged it an inch toward Vivian. "Here."

Vivian reached for it.

But just as her fingertips were about to touch the pouch, the glass of red wine in her hand suddenly tipped for no apparent reason.

Dark red wine poured out, and most of it splashed down the front of my trench coat.

"Oh!" Vivian cried out. She stumbled backward as if some invisible force had thrown her and crashed right into the service cart behind her.

Silver knives and china plates went crashing to the floor.

"It hurts..." Vivian sank onto the carpet, clutching her ankle with both hands, big tears rolling down her face. "Vera, if you didn't want to give it to me, fine, but why would you push me... I twisted my ankle, and I'm supposed to go to Vienna next week to accept my award..."

The whole banquet hall erupted into chaos.

"Vivian!" my mother shrieked as she rushed over.

"Call an ambulance! Get a doctor!" Friends and relatives crowded around.

But in all the commotion, one dark figure moved faster than anyone.

Gabriel nearly knocked his chair over getting to her. He dropped to one knee on the carpet and cradled Vivian's ankle in both hands, his face frighteningly tense.

"Where does it hurt? Can you move it?" His voice was shaking. It was a fierce, barely contained panic I'd never seen in him in three years.

"It hurts so much... Gabe, what if I can never dance again..." Vivian sobbed against his chest, barely able to breathe.

"That's not going to happen. I'm here. Nothing's going to happen to you." Gabriel swept her up into his arms.

As they passed me, I caught the scent of white camellias on Vivian, mixed with the sour tang of wine.

Gabriel stopped.

He looked down at me. There was no anger in his eyes. He didn't even ask what had happened. There was only cold indifference and disappointment.

"Apologize," he said.

I stood amid the broken china with the front of my clothes soaked through. The cold wine had seeped into my shirt and clung to my skin.

When the plates shattered, a flying shard had sliced my ankle open, leaving a two-inch gash. Blood was running down the top of my foot and soaking into the beige carpet in a small dark red stain.

But he couldn't see it.

All he could see was the trembling woman in his arms.

"I didn't push her." I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye. "She fell on her own.

"The restaurant has security cameras. There are waiters in the hall. Pull the footage and you'll see."

Gabriel clenched his jaw. He looked at me like he was exhausted and completely out of patience.

"Vera, she just barely made it back alive from Paris. She's extremely fragile right now." He lowered his voice, and every word hit me like a blow. "Whether you pushed her or not, you're her little sister. Just apologize, and this all goes away."

"Why should I?" I asked.