Chapter 3

"Do you have any idea," Lucas said slowly, each word sharp as a blade, "what you've done?"

I stared at him, my mind still foggy from the sedatives. "What I've done?"

"Vivienne." He leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "First you push her down the stairs last year and kill her baby, now you assault her at Damien's party and give her a concussion?"

The accusation hit like a slap.

"I never touched her! Lucas, she's lying—"

"Shut up!" His hand slammed on the bedside table, making the water pitcher jump. "There were witnesses! Dozens of people saw you hit her!"

"They saw what she wanted them to see!" I tried to sit up, but the pain was excruciating. "Please, you have to believe me—"

"Believe you?" He laughed bitterly. "Why would I believe someone who's been nothing but cruel to a woman who's shown you nothing but kindness?"

Kindness.

The word was obscene coming from his mouth.

My mind flashed back twenty years—two scared kids standing at our parents' funeral, clutching each other because there was no one else.

I was eight when they died in the car crash.

Lucas was ten.

We had nothing except each other and a house we were too young to understand was our only asset.

I remembered Lucas collapsing during soccer practice when he was fourteen, the doctors saying his kidneys were failing.

I remembered being sixteen and signing papers I didn't fully understand, selling our parents' house to pay for his treatment.

I remembered lying to him, telling him insurance covered everything, because I couldn't bear to see the guilt in his eyes.

I remembered waking up from surgery with a scar across my abdomen and one kidney gone, watching them wheel it away to save my brother's life.

He never knew.

I never told him.

And now he was looking at me like I was a monster.

"When you're discharged," Lucas continued, standing up, his voice cold as ice, "you will go to Vivienne's house and apologize. On your knees."

"Lucas, please—"

"That's not a request." He moved toward the door. "You will apologize for what you did, and you will beg for her forgiveness."

Something warm trickled from my nose.

I touched my face and my fingers came away red.

Blood.

"Lucas..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm your sister..."

"You stopped being my sister the moment you hurt Vivienne." His hand was on the door handle. "She's been nothing but good to us. She helped us start the company. She's been there for both Damien and me when we needed support."

A cough wracked my body, and suddenly I was choking.

Blood spattered across the white sheets—bright red drops that spread like accusations.

"What—" Lucas took a step back, his face paling.

I coughed again, crimson filling my mouth.

The taste of copper and betrayal.

"Nurse!" Lucas shouted, but his eyes were on me with something that might have been concern if it wasn't buried under so much anger.

Medical staff rushed in, pushing him aside.

Through the chaos, I heard his final words: "If you go near Vivienne again, if you hurt her one more time, I swear to God I'll make you regret it."

The door closed.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me again was the blood on my hands—blood I'd shed trying to survive in a world where everyone I loved had turned against me.

And I realized something that hurt worse than any physical pain: the brother I'd given my kidney to would rather see me dead than believe me.