Chapter 3

Kalia' s face twisted in rage. Charlotte' s words had found their mark.

"You bitch!" Kalia shrieked, her carefully constructed composure crumbling. "You think you're so much better than me!"

Charlotte saw the wildness in Kalia's eyes and decided to walk away. The confrontation was pointless.

But Kalia wasn't finished. She lunged, her hands clawing for Charlotte's face.

Charlotte sidestepped easily. Kalia, propelled by her own momentum, stumbled forward, her high heel catching on the hem of her gown. She let out a cry of surprise as she tripped and fell hard onto the stone floor.

The crash echoed from the balcony, and suddenly, all eyes were on them.

Bryant was there in an instant. He rushed past Charlotte without a glance and knelt beside Kalia, gathering her into his arms.

"Kalia! Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice thick with panic and concern.

Kalia burst into tears, a masterful performance of wronged innocence. "She pushed me, Bryant! She called me a parasite and then she pushed me!"

Bryant' s head snapped up, his eyes fixing on Charlotte with cold fury. "Get her over here," he barked at one of his security guards.

The guard escorted Charlotte back into the ballroom, where she was now the center of a silent, judging circle.

"What is wrong with you?" Bryant snarled, his face dark. "Can't you leave her alone for one night? Do you have to be so petty, so jealous?"

The crowd murmured, their gazes shifting from pity to contempt. They believed the lie.

Charlotte held her head high, her voice firm. "I didn't push her. She attacked me, and she fell."

"She insulted me, Bryant. She called me names," Charlotte stated, keeping her tone even.

"Then she tried to hit me," Charlotte continued, "and she tripped over her own feet."

Kalia sobbed harder in Bryant' s arms. "I didn't... I didn't try to hit her. She must have tripped me," she whispered, twisting the truth with practiced ease. "Bryant, please, don't be mad at her. I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Her fake plea for mercy only solidified Bryant's conviction. He saw Charlotte as the aggressor, the jealous fiancée lashing out.

"Apologize to her," Bryant commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Right now. Or I swear, Charlotte, I will make you regret it."

The demand was so absurd, so utterly disconnected from reality, that Charlotte almost laughed. Apologize? To the woman who had orchestrated her beating?

"No," she said, her voice ringing with finality. "I will not apologize for something I didn't do."

Bryant's face hardened into a mask of pure rage. "Fine," he hissed. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back toward the balcony, shoving her toward the edge. "You have two choices. Apologize, or I'll have my men throw you off."

The night air was cold against her skin. Below, the city streets were a dizzying drop. A wave of fear washed over her.

"Bryant, you can't be serious," she whispered, her voice trembling. "She had me beaten in our own home, and you did nothing. Now, for this, you'd kill me?"

Her comparison, the stark contrast between his reaction to Kalia's crocodile tears and his dismissal of her real, physical assault, seemed to hang in the air.

Just then, Kalia let out a soft moan and went limp in his arms, her eyes fluttering shut. She had fainted.

All of Bryant' s attention snapped back to her. His rage at Charlotte was instantly replaced by frantic concern for his mistress. "Kalia! Kalia, wake up!"

He scooped her up, his face a mask of terror. As he turned to rush her to a doctor, he shot a final, venomous look at Charlotte.

"Throw her off," he commanded his guards.

The world tilted. Charlotte's mind couldn't process the words. He couldn't mean it. He couldn't.

But the guards moved toward her, their faces impassive. They grabbed her arms.

And then she was falling.

The impact was a white-hot explosion of pain. She landed on the tiled roof of the terrace below, a single story down, but it was enough. She heard a sickening crack as her leg shattered.

Her vision blurred. The pain was an all-consuming fire. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the image of Bryant, cradling Kalia in his arms, disappearing into the night without a backward glance.

She woke up in a hospital bed. The world was a haze of white and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

Two nurses were whispering by the door.

"That's her, the fiancée of Bryant Barnes."

"I know. He's been here all night, in the room down the hall. Won't leave her side."

"He must really love her."

Charlotte closed her eyes, a bitter, silent laugh caught in her throat.

They were talking about Kalia.

In that moment, she finally understood. It wasn't that Bryant was incapable of love. He was perfectly capable of it. He just didn't love her. For the one he loved, he would move mountains, forgive any sin, and destroy anyone who got in the way.

And for the one he didn't, he would leave her broken and bleeding on a cold stone roof without a second thought.