Chapter 3

Dominic agreed to her terms with a desperate eagerness that was almost pathetic.

"I' ll do it, Hazel. I' ll arrange for her to study abroad. A new life, a fresh start. She' ll be gone by the end of the month," he promised, his voice earnest.

For the next week, he was the perfect, repentant fiancé. He brought her breakfast in bed, took her on quiet drives along the coast, and sat with her in her studio while she sketched, never pushing, never demanding.

To the outside world, it looked like a reconciliation. Her father was relieved. Her stepmother praised Dominic' s devotion. "See?" she' d said to Hazel with a smug smile. "He loves you. It was all just a silly misunderstanding."

Hazel knew better. She watched him, her heart a cold, still stone in her chest. She saw the way his eyes would flicker to his phone every few minutes. She noticed the gifts he brought her-a silk scarf in a shade of blue that Julia loved, a novel by an author Julia always talked about. He was trying to please Hazel with things that would please her rival. The man was a fool.

The charade ended on a Tuesday afternoon.

Hazel was in her studio, cleaning her brushes, when the door crashed open. Dominic stood there, his face a thunderous mask of rage. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

"What did you do?" he snarled, stalking towards her.

Hazel calmly placed her brush in the jar of turpentine. "I have no idea what you' re talking about."

"Don' t lie to me!" he roared, his voice echoing in the large, airy space. "Julia! What did you say to her?"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. "She' s in the hospital, Hazel! She tried to kill herself! She took a bottle of pills!"

The words hung in the air between them. Julia tried to kill herself. The same tired, manipulative trick.

Hazel felt nothing. No shock, no pity. Just a profound, weary emptiness.

"She' s dying, Hazel," Dominic' s voice cracked, his rage giving way to a raw, broken sound. "And it' s your fault. You and your vicious, cruel demands. You pushed her to this."

Hazel looked up at him, at the man she once loved, his face contorted with grief for another woman. "Is that so?"

His eyes, filled with unshed tears, blazed with hatred. "How can you be so cold? She' s your sister! Don' t you have a heart? Are you even human?"

He was accusing her of being heartless while he was the one who had left her to burn. The hypocrisy was breathtaking.

"So what are you going to do?" Hazel asked, her voice a detached, clinical whisper. "Are you going to punish me?"

"Punish you?" he laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "That' s not enough. You' re going to atone. You will go to her, you will get on your knees, and you will beg for her forgiveness."

He wasn' t finished. His grip tightened, his face inches from hers.

"And you will keep begging, every day, for the rest of your life. You will be her servant. You will do whatever she asks. That is the price for her pain."

A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through Hazel' s chest. It was a phantom ache, a ghost of the love she used to feel. Why? Why, after everything, did his words still have the power to hurt her? She had died. She had been reborn. This pain should have been burned out of her.

She felt a wave of dizziness, her vision blurring at the edges. She couldn' t find the words to defend herself. What was the point? He wouldn' t believe her anyway.

"You trust her that much?" she managed to whisper, the words tasting like ash. "You believe everything she says?"

"Yes," he said without a second of hesitation, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. "Julia is pure. She is innocent. She would never lie. Not like you."

He seemed to catch himself then, a flicker of something-maybe awareness of his own cruelty-flashing in his eyes. He loosened his grip slightly. "Hazel, I..."

But it was too late.

A bitter, broken laugh bubbled up from Hazel' s chest. It started as a tremor and grew into a full-blown, tear-streaked peal of laughter. The sound was wild and unhinged. It was the sound of a heart breaking for the second and final time.

The room started to spin. The colors of her paintings on the wall blurred into a meaningless swirl. The last thing she saw was Dominic' s face, his rage replaced by a sudden, dawning panic.

Then, the world went black.