Chapter 4

Amira Osborne POV:

The world dissolved into a tunnel of screaming sirens and frantic prayers. I don' t remember the drive, only the feeling of my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I burst into my mother' s apartment to find a scene from my worst nightmares.

She was on the floor, her face a ghastly shade of white, her breaths shallow and alarmingly faint.

"Mom!" The scream was ripped from my soul. I fell to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over her, terrified to touch her, to hurt her more. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and slick with sweat, and dialed 911.

"Half an hour," the dispatcher said. "It' s rush hour, it' s the best we can do."

Half an hour. My mother didn' t have half an hour.

Neighbors began to gather in the hallway, drawn by the commotion. "What happened?" I pleaded, my eyes scanning their faces for an answer.

An elderly woman, Mrs. Gable from next door, looked uncomfortable. "That... other woman was here," she said, her voice low. "The fancy one. She was yelling at your mother about something. Then we heard a thud."

My vision went red. Francine.

As if summoned, she appeared at the end of the hall, emerging from the elevator. She was dressed in a slinky, inappropriate silk robe, her hair perfectly coiffed. She looked utterly unfazed.

"Oh, dear," she said, her eyes flicking from my mother' s still form to me. "What a terrible shame. She seemed so agitated when she saw me coming out of Carter' s apartment this morning. I suppose the shock was just too much for her."

The implication was clear. She was blaming my mother' s collapse on my mother herself.

Just then, Carter' s car screeched to a halt outside. He ran into the building, his face etched with worry until he saw Francine.

"Carter, help me," I sobbed, grabbing his arm, clinging to him as my last hope. "We have to get her to the hospital. The ambulance is too far away."

But Francine was already weaving her own narrative. "Carter, darling," she cooed, her voice trembling. "It was awful. I think someone was trying to break into my apartment. I was so scared." She pointed a shaking finger up the stairs. "Would you mind just... coming up to check? Just for a moment?"

He looked from Francine' s performance to my mother lying on the floor. I saw the calculation in his eyes, the weighing of options. His future versus my mother' s life.

"Carter, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "She' s dying."

He looked at me then, his expression hardening with impatience. He violently shook my hand off his arm. "For God' s sake, Amira, can' t you see Francine is terrified? The ambulance is on its way. Stop being so selfish."

He turned his back on me, on my dying mother, and wrapped a comforting arm around Francine' s shoulders, leading her towards the stairs.

As the elevator doors slid shut, Francine looked over his shoulder. She met my gaze, and a slow, triumphant smile spread across her face.

It was the cruelest thing I had ever seen.

My world shattered. I fell to my knees, the sound of my own desperate wails echoing in the hallway. I begged. I pleaded with the neighbors, with anyone who would listen. Finally, a kind man, a stranger, took pity on me. He helped me carry my mother to his car.

We made it to the hospital, but it was too late.

The doctor' s words were a death sentence. "I' m sorry, Ms. Osborne. We did everything we can. If she had gotten here just ten minutes earlier... maybe."

Ten minutes.

Carter had chosen to check on Francine' s imaginary intruder over the ten minutes that could have saved my mother' s life.

I stood in the sterile white hallway, the doctor' s voice fading into a dull roar in my ears. I couldn' t breathe. I watched them wheel her body away, covered by a white sheet, and I couldn' t bring myself to follow.

I stood there all night, leaning against a cold wall, as silent tears traced paths down my face. I didn' t feel grief. I didn' t feel sadness. I felt a vast, Vantablack emptiness where my heart used to be.

As dawn broke, my shattered phone, which a nurse had kindly plugged in for me, lit up with a text message. It was from a number I didn' t recognize, but I knew who it was from.

"Oops. Looks like your mommy couldn' t handle the competition. Don' t worry, I' ll take good care of Carter for you. ;)"

A sound I had never made before tore from my throat-a raw, guttural scream of pure agony and rage. I hurled the phone against the wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces, just like my life.

I slid down the wall and crumpled onto the floor, the emptiness inside me finally giving way to something else. A cold, hard, and unforgiving hatred.