Chapter 8 ELLA'S POV

She Told Me My Son Was Dead.

"You're insane!"

Lina clutched her tablet and stumbled back a step, her voice trembling. "Don't you dare say things like that!"

I stood in the rain, soaked through, strands of hair plastered against my face. But my mind was sharp.

Sharper than it had ever been.

I held her gaze, didn't bother wiping the water from my face, and kept going.

"You've got a great ass. Exactly Justin's type."

Lina blinked.

I didn't give her time to respond.

"Think about it — why does Vivian always keep you glued to her side? You're her foil. Standing next to you makes her look thinner, paler. She doesn't respect you. To her, you're just a prop."

Lina's mouth opened. No sound came out.

I pressed harder.

"Imagine sleeping with Justin. Getting back at Vivian. Doesn't that sound satisfying? And you'd walk away with money on top of it. Why wouldn't you?"

"You—"

She called me a lunatic, spun around, and ran.

Her heels struck the wet stone in rapid, sharp clicks. The bodyguard under the awning stepped aside to let her through. She disappeared through the front door, and it swung shut behind her.

But in the moment she turned away, I caught something in her eyes.

It wasn't anger.

It was doubt.

A seed. Whether it would take root — I didn't know. But I'd planted it.

The rain hammered my shoulders, soaking through the bandages. The wound on the back of my head swelled and itched from the water, like something crawling beneath my skin.

I stood outside and tilted my head back to look at the second-floor window.

Leo's room. The light was off.

Was he sleeping? Was he crying in the dark? Was he calling for me?

I stood there for a long time.

The rain showed no sign of stopping. Late October nights ran cold, and the wind drove the rain into my bones. I started shaking — couldn't stop — my teeth knocking together in a dull, relentless chatter.

The knee I'd fallen on earlier throbbed with every heartbeat. After standing so long, my whole leg had gone numb.

But I didn't leave.

I was afraid that if I walked away, they'd move Leo somewhere else.

As the sky began to lighten, my mind started to drift. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. My ears rang. My stomach twisted in on itself — it had been over thirty hours since I'd eaten anything.

I can't collapse.

I reached back and pressed my fingers into the wound on my head. Pain shot across my scalp like an electric current. I was lucid for a few seconds.

This can't go on. If I keep standing here, I won't even be able to stay upright — let alone save Leo.

I turned and walked toward the end of the street. My steps lurched and swayed. Every few feet I grabbed the railing along the road to keep myself upright. About ten minutes later, I rounded a corner and found a 24-hour pharmacy, its green sign glowing in the dark.

I pushed open the door. Water streamed off me and pooled on the floor.

The clerk took one look at me and jumped to her feet.

"Anti-inflammatories. Fever reducer. Painkillers."

"Miss, should I… should I call an ambulance…"

"No. Just those three."

I dug through every pocket and found a crumpled bill. I didn't know if it was enough. The clerk hesitated, then handed me the medication.

Outside the pharmacy, I crouched at the curb and dry-swallowed the pills, using the rain as my only water.

The tablets caught in my throat. It took several attempts before they went down.

You can't get sick. You can't fall apart. Leo is waiting for you.

I dragged my barely-functioning body back toward the house. Dawn was breaking, gray and pale. The rain had eased into a fine mist. Cars began passing. Early risers moved along the sidewalk under umbrellas, glancing at me before quickly looking away.

I probably looked terrifying.

When I turned onto the street with the villa, I knew something was wrong before I even got close.

The gate was open.

Not ajar. Wide open.

Vivian was standing outside.

She was crying.

Not the delicate, composed kind of crying. She had her face buried in her hands, shoulders heaving.

My heart dropped.

I broke into a run. My knee screamed with every stride. I ignored it and half-stumbled, half-sprinted to the entrance.

Vivian heard my footsteps and looked up.

Her makeup was ruined, her eyes swollen and red, the tip of her nose raw.

The moment she saw me, her lips trembled.

"Leo is dead."

Three words.

My brain stopped.

Every sound disappeared — the rain, the wind, the distant hum of an engine starting somewhere — gone.

Just those three words, bouncing back and forth inside my skull.

Leo is dead.

Leo is dead.

No.

"You're lying!"

I lunged at her and grabbed her by the collar. My fingers twisted the fabric of her coat. My knuckles went white.

"Where have you hidden him? Give him back to me!"

Vivian staggered under my grip, crying harder, words breaking apart as they came out.

"He… he snuck out in the middle of the night… the bodyguard chased him… he panicked, he ran onto the bridge, and he… he jumped… the current was too strong…"

I didn't believe a single word.

"That's impossible! Leo is four years old! He can barely get out of bed on his own — he just had surgery! How could he run anywhere?"

"He pulled out his IV himself…" Vivian choked. "He wouldn't stop crying. He kept saying he wanted his mom… the bodyguard lost track of him…"

"That's a lie!"

My voice cracked and split, so raw it barely sounded human. Like sandpaper dragged across stone.

"It was you! You did this! You wanted him dead!"

Footsteps came from inside.

Justin walked out.

No jacket, shirt sleeves pushed up to the elbows, hair slightly disheveled. He came down the steps without looking at me, reached out, and pulled Vivian out of my grip.

"Enough. Stop making a scene."

Four words. Delivered the way someone might say it's a bit chilly today or what should we have for dinner.

I let go of her. I turned to look at him.

This was his son.

His own flesh and blood.

"You're not going to look for him?"

Justin adjusted Vivian's collar where I'd twisted it, smoothing it back into place.

"Justin! Your son fell into the river! You're not going to save him?!"

He finally looked at me.

There was nothing in that look. No grief. No urgency. Not even impatience. Just — emptiness.

"The current's already taken him. What's the point of looking?"

The blood rushed to my head.

My temples pounded. My vision flooded red.

I kicked Vivian aside with everything I had.

She screamed. Her heels slipped on the wet ground and she went down hard on the stone.

The bodyguards started to move, but I was faster.

I drew back and put every last ounce of strength I had left into my fist.

It connected just below Justin's cheekbone. My knuckles went numb on impact. His head snapped to one side.

The corner of his mouth split open. Blood welled up.

He froze.

Vivian froze.

The bodyguards froze.

Nobody had expected me to still have the strength to throw a punch. Including me.

Justin slowly turned his head back. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at me.

"If anything has happened to my son—"

My voice came out so loud it frightened even me, completely shredded, barely more than a rasp.

"I will make both of you pay for it."

I turned and ran.

Behind me, Vivian's voice: "Stop her!"

Footsteps. The bodyguards gave chase. But I was already through the gate and sprinting toward the far end of the street. Their leather shoes slipped on the wet ground. After a few strides, they fell behind.

I ran out of that street.

Past two intersections.

Past a small park.

I didn't know which direction the river was, but there was only one bridge Vivian could have meant — Ashley Bridge. East side, roughly fifteen minutes on foot.

I made it in seven.

Running on instinct. My knee had stopped registering pain. My lungs burned with a metallic taste, on the verge of giving out.

A small crowd had gathered at the bridge.

Seven or eight people. A cluster of umbrellas. Everyone pointing at the water below.

As I shoved my way through, I caught pieces of what they were saying.

"Such a little kid. Just jumped."

"Current's too strong. They probably won't find him."

"Someone called the police a little while ago. Don't know if they'll make it in time…"

My knees buckled.

I went down in front of the iron railing at the bridge's edge.

The river was brown and churning. A full night of heavy rain had swollen it well above its banks. Muddy waves rolled across the surface.

Leo was four years old. He weighed barely thirty-five pounds. He had just come out of heart surgery.

In water like this—

No.

Don't think about it.

I reached for my phone—

I didn't have my phone. It was still in the villa.

"Can I borrow your phone? Someone — please — can I borrow your phone?"

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the arm of a woman standing nearby.

"My son fell in! Please, please let me use your phone!"

She flinched back, startled, but held it out to me.

I dialed emergency services.

My hands were shaking so badly I hit the wrong keys three times before I got it right.

"My son fell into the Ashley River… he's four years old… it happened early this morning… please send someone, please, please search for him…"

The dispatcher asked for details. My answers came out fractured and out of order. I gave them Leo's age, height, weight, what he was wearing.

When I hung up, I handed the phone back and sank to my knees again at the railing.

I stared at the water.

The river churned and rolled. I couldn't see anything.

The crowd began to drift away. Someone touched my shoulder and said something. I didn't hear it.

I stayed there on my knees, watching the water.

The rain picked up again.

My lips were moving. The words came out in barely a whisper, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"Leo. Mama's here. Mama's right here. Where are you? Give me a sign. Please."

No answer.

The river ran brown and fast and indifferent.

In the distance, a siren.

I turned my head. A police cruiser swung around the bend at the head of the bridge.