Chapter 4

Her scream ripped through the quiet of the house a moment later.

It was a raw, terrified sound.

Lights flicked on. Doors opened. My father was the first to reach her room, with me right behind him, feigning a sleepy confusion that matched his own.

He fumbled with the key, burst inside, and found Chloe sitting bolt upright in bed, pointing a shaking finger at the empty space where I had stood.

"She was here! Ava was here!" Chloe shrieked, her voice hysterical. "She got in! She threatened me!"

My father spun around and saw me standing in the hallway, wrapped in a robe, my hair artfully messy. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his eyes blazing. "I locked your door!"

"I heard screaming," I said simply, my voice groggy. "What happened?"

Mark arrived, his cast a clumsy accessory to his silk pajamas. He rushed to Chloe's side.

"Darling, what is it? What did she do?" he cooed, glaring at me over her head.

"She's lying!" Chloe sobbed, burying her face in Mark's shoulder. "She got out of her room and came in here to terrorize me! She said... she said she wasn't soft, and she hit the bed right next to my head!"

My father strode out into the hall and marched to my room. He twisted the knob. Locked. He pulled out his own key, unlocked it, and pushed it open. The room was empty, the bed neatly made. There was no sign of a breakout.

He came back, his face a thundercloud of confusion and anger.

"Your door was locked, Ava. How could you have gotten out?"

"I didn't," I said, my face a perfect mask of innocence. "I was asleep until I heard Chloe scream. She must have had a nightmare."

Chloe pulled away from Mark, her face streaked with tears and fury. "A nightmare? He broke your wrist! She's framing me for espionage! And now you think I'm having a nightmare? She is the monster, Dad! Not me!"

"She's just trying to make you look unstable, Chloe," Mark said soothingly, though his eyes, fixed on me, were full of venom. "It's a classic tactic."

"Unstable?" I laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Look at her. She's the one who's hysterical. I'm perfectly calm."

I turned to my father. "Maybe you should ask her why she's so afraid. What is she hiding?"

"She is hiding nothing!" my father shot back. "She is the victim here!"

"Is she?" I asked softly. I walked back into Chloe's room, my eyes scanning the floor. "Then what's this?"

I bent down and picked up a small object from beneath the edge of the rug near her bed.

It was a syringe. Small, discreet, the kind used for insulin, but this one was still in its sterile packaging.

I held it up for them to see.

"I wonder what this is for," I said, my voice casual. "Chloe, you're not diabetic, are you?"

Chloe's face went deathly pale. "I... I don't know what that is! I've never seen it before! She must have planted it!"

"I've been locked in my room, remember?" I said, turning to my father. "How could I have planted it? But Chloe... she's had a nurse. Access to medical supplies. And she's been so very 'sick' lately."

I looked at the syringe, then back at Chloe.

"What were you going to do with this, Chloe? Were you planning to inject me with something in my sleep? Make it look like an overdose? Or maybe you were going to use it on yourself, a little prick, just enough to claim I attacked you with it?"

"That's absurd!" Mark blurted out, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He looked at Chloe, really looked at her, for the first time.

My father took the syringe from my hand, his expression grim. He looked at Chloe, his jaw tight. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he saw it. I thought the truth had finally broken through his wall of denial.

He saw her pallor, her frantic denials. He saw the syringe in his hand.

He saw the evidence.

And he made his choice.

He closed his fist around the syringe, concealing it. He turned to me, his face a mask of cold, deliberate fury.

"This proves nothing," he said, his voice low and final. "Except that you are more manipulative and cruel than I ever imagined, to use your sister's fragile state against her like this."

He turned his back on me, his dismissal absolute. He put a comforting arm around Chloe.

"It's all right, my dear," he whispered to her, loud enough for me to hear. "We'll get you a new nurse. A proper security detail. We will keep you safe from her."

He was choosing the lie.

It was easier than admitting his perfect daughter was a monster. It was easier than admitting he had been a fool.

He led a still-sobbing Chloe out of the room, with Mark trailing behind them like a loyal dog, though he cast one last, confused look back at me.

I was left alone in the middle of her frilly, pink room.

I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel disappointment. I felt a profound, chilling clarity.

He would never see the truth. He didn't want to.

He would protect her until the very end.

Fine.

Then I would just have to destroy them both.