Chapter 3

Clara's POV

Attorney Cole delivered the investigative file three days later.

It was a thick, weathered manila envelope.

I opened the first page, my grip instantly tightening.

Mallory Kane. Born Trina Kane.

High school record: St. Jude’s Boarding Academy.

A buried nightmare crashed over me like ice water.

The cruel ringleader who terrorized me at that boarding school was Mallory.

She was the one who ripped up my textbooks and shoved them into the boys' bathroom urinals.

She was the one who spread vicious rumors that I stole money from lockers.

She was the one who locked me in an abandoned storage shed overnight in sub-zero winter weather, leaving me to scream until my vocal cords bled.

And she was the one who dumped an entire bucket of freezing ice water over my head.

It was all Mallory.

I closed the file, my eyes turning to stone.

Unfinished business from years ago. Now, I could settle the old debts alongside the new ones.

That evening, Julian walked through the front door with a smug Mallory trailing behind him.

Draped around Mallory’s neck was a massive sapphire pendant.

The very crown jewel Julian had snatched up for eight figures at Christie's auction last month.

"Clara," Mallory purred, tugging her collar to flaunt the jewel, "Julian insisted this sapphire matches my undertone. He just "had" to buy it for me. You don't mind, right?"

I was wiping the marble counter and didn't even bother looking up.

"Not at all."

Setting the towel down, I met Mallory’s gaze, my tone level.

"It's completely normal for a brother to spoil his sister."

"Though, I wonder... when you eventually find a husband, Mallory, will he be generous enough to let your brother gift you eight-figure jewelry?"

The smug smile froze instantly on Mallory's face.

Julian’s brows snapped together, his face darkening. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Clara? Mallory is my sister. I buy her whatever I want, and you don't get a say."

I looked at Julian and suddenly smiled.

"Did I say something wrong? If she’s just your sister, why are both of you acting so defensive?"

Mallory’s eyes rimmed with tears. Snatching her designer bag off the couch, she sobbed, "Julian, I don't want the necklace anymore! I won't stay here and let Clara degrade me like this!"

Julian glared daggers at me. "You’re getting out of hand!"

With that, he grabbed his jacket and chased after her.

Standing alone in the vast, hollow living room, looking at the shut front door, a faint sneer touched my lips.

I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Attorney Cole:

"Start gathering witness statements from the prep school bullying incidents."

I knew Mallory wouldn't let this go.

She would rope someone else in to retaliate.

Two days later, the sky hung heavy with grey clouds.

I drove to the hospital alone to bring clean clothes and homemade creamy mushroom soup to my hospitalized father.

After parking, I carried the insulated container through the underground garage.

The garage was dimly lit, damp concrete smelling of mildew, dead silent.

Just as I turned the corner toward the elevators, hurried footsteps echoed behind me.

My heart spiked. Before I could turn my head—

"BAM!"

A violent shove struck my upper back!

I lost all balance, tumbling head-first down the steep concrete flight of stairs!

"Crack!"

A sickening crunch snapped through my right leg.

Excruciating agony ripped through my body. The back of my skull slammed hard against the iron railing, and my vision swam in black spots.

The soup container shattered across the stone floor, hot broth mixing with spreading blood.

In the final split-second before unconsciousness took me, I forced my blurry eyes to lock onto the two masked men standing above.

On the back of one man's left hand was a dark, distinct tattoo of an eagle's head.

The personal mark of Patrick Bennett’s private security detail.