Chapter 4

The next day, a courier delivered a heavy crystal trophy to my door. It was the "Innovator in Urban Design" award, a prestigious honor in my field. I had won, but I'd been too unwell to attend the ceremony last month.

I had just placed it on the mantelpiece when the doorbell rang again. It was Judi. She was holding my trophy's velvet-lined case.

"Angelina! They sent this to the office by mistake," she said, her smile bright and guileless. "Congratulations! This is amazing. You're my idol."

"Thank you, Judi," I said, taking the case from her.

She peeked past me into the house, her eyes landing on the trophy. "Wow, it's beautiful. Can I hold it?"

Before I could answer, she stepped inside and reached for it.

"Actually, I'd rather you didn't," I said, moving to block her.

Her face fell. "Oh. I just wanted to see what it felt like. To be so successful." She looked at me, her eyes wide with manufactured admiration. "You know, Danial said he's going to help me start my own firm one day. He thinks I have potential."

The casual name-drop, the subtle assertion of her place in his life, was expertly done.

"That's nice for you," I said, my voice cool. "But I need to get back to work."

I turned to place the trophy securely on its shelf, but she was faster. Her hand darted out, grabbing for it.

"Please, just for one second," she pleaded.

"Judi, no," I said firmly, my hand closing over hers on the crystal base.

We struggled for a moment, a ridiculous, silent tug-of-war. Her nails dug into my skin. She gave a sudden, sharp yank. The heavy trophy slipped from both our grasps.

It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. A large, jagged piece broke off the base, skittering across the room.

We both froze.

At that exact moment, Ismael walked in. He took in the scene in a single glance: me standing over a broken trophy, Judi on the floor, cradling her hand and crying out in pain.

"What the hell, Angelina!" he yelled, rushing to Judi's side. "Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?"

"I... I don't think so," Judi sobbed, looking at her perfectly intact hand. "My wrist... I think she sprained it."

"It's just a scratch," she then said, pointing to a tiny red mark on her palm, barely visible.

Danial came in right behind Ismael, his face a thundercloud. He saw Judi, then the broken award, then me.

He didn't even ask what happened. He scooped a crying Judi into his arms as if she were a fragile doll. "I'm taking you to the emergency room. Ismael, you deal with this."

He carried her out the door, his voice murmuring reassurances to her.

Ismael turned to me, his face tight with fury. "An award. You fought with her over a stupid award? I don't know who you are anymore, Angelina."

"She tried to grab it from me," I said, my voice low and steady. "It slipped."

"Why would she do that? She admires you! All she wanted was to hold it," he shot back. "Look what you did to her. And look what you did to your award. Was it worth it?"

He pointed at the broken crystal. "She wanted to break it, Ismael. She did it on purpose."

"You're paranoid," he scoffed. "You need to apologize to her."

"I will not apologize for something I didn't do," I said, my voice rising. "She broke it. She should apologize to me."

"Apologize to you?" He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "For what? For accidentally breaking a piece of glass? You're a successful architect, Angelina. You'll win plenty more. Judi has nothing. And you attacked her. You owe her an apology."

He shook his head in disgust. "I'm going to the hospital to check on her. You should think about what you've become."

He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

I stood alone in the silent living room. The broken trophy lay on the floor, a symbol of more than just a shattered piece of crystal. My hand was stinging. I looked down. Four deep, bloody crescent-shaped marks from Judi's nails were carved into my skin. It was bleeding far more than her supposed "scratch."

I slowly bent down, picked up the broken piece of the trophy, and walked to the bathroom. I washed the blood from my hand under cold water, the sting sharp and real. I didn't have any bandages.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Everette Bryant.

Flight details for our meeting in New York are confirmed. I look forward to seeing you, Angelina.

I stared at the message, at his formal, steady words. It was a lifeline from another world, a world away from this petty, toxic drama.

My mother called a minute later. "Angelina! I just spoke with Everette's mother. Everything is set! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes, Mom," I said, my voice carefully neutral as I wrapped a paper towel around my bleeding hand. "It's wonderful."

I heard a key in the lock. Ismael was back. He walked in just as I said, "I'll see you in two weeks." He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he overheard the tail end of my conversation.