Chapter 5

For the next three days, the basement became the strangest place on earth.

No blood ritual. No sacrifice. Just a suffocating, grinding standoff.

I made myself at home in the hospital bed next to Violet's.

I wanted delivery from the best restaurant in the city — Liam sent someone to get it.

I wanted a good bottle of red wine — Arthur opened one through clenched teeth.

I wanted to watch something on TV — Helena held the tablet up for me.

They despised me. And they couldn't do a thing about it.

Because I was the one holding the detonator.

Liam, meanwhile, was visibly falling apart.

He spent most of his time sitting in the corner in silence, smoking.

The pile of cigarette butts on the floor tracked the erosion happening inside him.

He was starting to doubt.

Doubt whether three years of obsession had been built on a lie.

Doubt whether the woman in that bed was worth what he'd done and what he'd become.

Every time he looked at Violet, the things Arthur and Helena had confessed replayed in his mind — all of it ugly, petty, and deliberate.

Like splinters he couldn't pull out and couldn't stop feeling.

On the fifth night.

The eve of the day Violet was supposed to wake up.

The tension had nowhere left to go.

Liam finally moved.

He pressed out the cigarette and came to stand in front of me.

"Vivian. We need to talk."

"About what?" I was working through a bowl of cherries, not even glancing up.

"Name your price. Whatever it takes for you to walk away from this. The whole company if you want it. I mean that."

There was something raw underneath his voice. A note of pleading.

He genuinely loved her that much. Even after everything. Even knowing she was rotten through.

That kind of devotion would be touching if it weren't so nauseating.

I set down the fruit and wiped my hands.

"You really are a true romantic, Liam."

"But I want you to think about something."

I looked at him. Let my expression go still.

"That accident three years ago. What if it wasn't an accident?"

Liam went rigid.

"What are you saying?"

"You always believed I caused that crash. You assumed she had no reason to want to die, so it had to be me. Right?"

I stood and started walking toward him.

"But what if she wasn't trying to die? What if she was trying to kill me?"

"That's insane." Liam's voice came out sharp. "You walked away. She's been in a coma for three years. Nobody tries to commit murder and ends up the one in the coma."

"Because she miscalculated."

I didn't soften it.

"She tampered with my brakes. Meant to make it look like an accident — mine. But a dog ran into the road, I swerved hard, and the car hit the barrier. She was in the passenger seat. Seatbelt on. She should have been fine."

"Except right before impact, she unclipped it."

"Why?" Liam's voice was shaking now.

"Because she was going for the wheel. She wanted to make sure I actually died."

I touched my temple.

"Something in here was broken a long time ago."

"She put her own life on the line to get rid of me. She just lost the bet. I survived. She didn't."

"I don't believe you—"

Liam stepped back twice. His face had gone white.

"You don't believe me?"

I pulled a USB drive from my pocket and dropped it into his hands.

"Backup from my dashcam. After the accident, it disappeared. Want to know where it went?"

"Arthur's safe."

"It took me a long time to get that back. Play it. Listen to what your sweet, gentle Violet was saying to me in the minutes before that crash."

Liam's hand closed around the drive. Such a small piece of metal. It felt like it weighed everything.

He didn't want to look.

He was afraid to look.

He was afraid of what it would do to whatever was left of the world he'd built.

"Too afraid?"

I let the silence stretch.

"Fine. I'll remind you."

I dropped into Violet's tone — that honeyed, razor-edged sweetness.

"'Once you're gone, he's all mine. I've wanted this long enough that I'd trade my life for it.'"

"Stop—"

Liam's hands went to his ears. A sound came out of him that was low and desperate and ugly.

He didn't want to hear it.

But it was already in his head, looping, and it wasn't going to stop.

Every inconsistency he'd trained himself not to look at came flooding back at once.

Why did the dashcam disappear?

Why had Arthur and Helena always changed the subject when the accident details came up?

Why had Violet taken out a large insurance policy on him before the crash, with herself as the beneficiary?

The truth worked like a dull, rusted blade. Slow. Thorough.

"Liam."

I watched him come apart and felt no pity. Only a clean, cold satisfaction.

"That is who you love."

"A woman who tried to have me killed and accidentally destroyed herself in the process."

"And you were going to put me — the one who actually got hurt — on the altar for her."

"Doesn't that strike you as a little absurd?"

Liam raised his head slowly.

His eyes were red. Completely red.

He looked at me. Then at Violet. Then back.

Something broke in his expression.

The sound of a belief system collapsing.

And then.

The machines in the corner screamed to life.

"Beep — beep — beep—"

The flat line on the monitor began spiking wildly.

Violet's finger moved.

She was waking up.

On this night, of all nights. When every truth had been dragged into the light. When everyone in the room was armed and waiting.

The real hell was only now opening its doors.

I looked at the jumping lines on the cardiac monitor, and let the smile come.

Wake up, little sister.

Look at the world we've all prepared for you.

This is your resurrection gift. Carefully arranged, just for you.