Hanna Butler POV:
The phone lay shattered on the floor, mirroring the shards of my sanity. Grace. Gone. The words echoed in my head, a terrifying, guttural scream. My world had been crumbling, but Grace was the last pillar holding it all up. Now, even that was ripped away.
My phone, despite the broken screen, buzzed again. A new message. From an unknown number. My fingers trembled as I picked it up, my breath catching in my throat. It was a video.
I pressed play, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. The image that flickered to life sent a spike of ice through my veins. Grace. My sweet, fragile Grace. She was bound, her wrists and ankles crudely tied, her usually vibrant eyes wide with terror. Her face was deathly pale, a bruise blooming on her cheek. She was in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room, rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.
Then, a voice, distorted but unmistakable, started playing. It was a playback of Alexander' s conversation with Cassie, the one where he promised to protect Kyle. Grace' s eyes snapped open, a horrifying, vacant stare. She began to whimper, then scream, a primal sound of pure agony. She thrashed against her restraints, her body convulsing in a fit of uncontrollable terror.
My blood ran cold. Every vein in my body felt like it was filled with liquid nitrogen. Alexander. Cassie. They had done this. They had used Grace, tormented her, driven her further into the depths of her trauma. A red haze descended over my vision.
"No!" I screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore from my chest. I scrambled to my feet, the pain in my head forgotten. My mind snapped, all rational thought replaced by a singular, burning need: Grace.
I burst out of the changing room, ignoring the startled glances of the few remaining staff. My feet pounded against the polished floors, my heart a frantic drumbeat in my ears. Where would they take her? Where would Alexander and Cassie be?
The gala. Of course. The Lincoln Center Gala. The very place where Cassie had received the stolen award tonight. Alexander would be there, basking in his power, displaying his new trophy. They would be celebrating their triumph, their cruelty.
I ran, propelled by a desperate, maternal instinct, towards the gala hall. I had to get to her. I had to save my sister. They couldn' t do this. They couldn' t take Grace from me.
I burst through the grand entrance, the opulent ballroom a blur of glittering dresses and tuxedoed figures. The music, a soaring classical piece, seemed to mock my desperation. The applause had just ended. Cassie, draped in a white, shimmering gown – my gown, the one Alexander had tried to appease me with just hours ago – stood center stage, hand-in-hand with Alexander. They looked like the perfect couple, a modern-day king and queen of the city.
I was a disheveled wreck, my face streaked with blood and tears, my clothes rumpled. I was a stark, jarring contrast to the polished elegance of the scene, a harbinger of chaos in their curated fantasy.
Alexander saw me first. His smug smile faltered, replaced by a look of amused contempt. He probably thought I had come to beg, to retract my divorce, to grovel for my job back. He couldn't fathom the fire raging in my soul.
I didn' t spare him a glance. My eyes were fixed on Cassie, the woman who held my sister captive. I pushed through the throng of stunned guests, my every step a desperate prayer.
"Cassie!" I rasped, my voice hoarse, barely recognizable. "Where is she? Where is Grace?"
The music died. A hush fell over the ballroom, all eyes turning to me. The whispers began, a rising tide of speculation and judgment.
Alexander' s face darkened instantly. He stepped in front of Cassie, shielding her, his eyes blazing with fury. "Hanna, enough!" he snarled, his voice low and menacing. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Are you completely insane? Making a scene like this?"
"Where is Grace, Alexander?" I demanded, trying to pull away, but his grip was like iron. "What have you done to her?"
He shoved me, hard. I stumbled backward, my shoulder connecting with a towering champagne fountain. Crystal flutes crashed to the floor, champagne spraying everywhere. A sharp pain shot through my arm, but I barely registered it. All I could see was Grace' s terrified face in the video.
Cassie, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, stepped out from behind Alexander. "Oh, Hanna, please," she whimpered, her voice a fragile whisper. "Don' t do this. Don' t ruin Alexander' s night. You' re just jealous, aren' t you? Jealous of my talent, jealous of Alexander' s love for me." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss only I could hear. "Your sister is simply… enjoying the view. From a very high place."
Her words, sharp and cruel, pierced through my ears, echoing the sickening realization that had just begun to form. A very high place. The rooftop. Lincoln Center.
The terror that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted, consuming me. She was taunting me. She was telling me where Grace was. My mind reeled, a kaleidoscope of Grace' s fragile state, the traumatic video, and Cassie' s chilling words.
I lunged at her, my hands outstretched, a guttural scream tearing from my throat. "You monster! What have you done?"
Alexander intercepted me, his strength formidable. He threw me back, sending me sprawling across the slick, champagne-soaked floor. My cheek scraped against the marble, a searing pain, but all I felt was the rising panic for Grace.
He stood over me, his face contorted with disgust. "Look at you, Hanna! A common street brawler! You are a disgrace to this institution, to yourself!"
My hair was loose, matted with champagne and sweat, my dress torn, my face probably a mess of blood and tears. I probably looked insane. But all I could think of was Grace, alone and terrified, teetering on the edge of darkness.
My eyes fell on a shard of broken crystal, glittering dangerously on the floor. Without thinking, I snatched it up, my fingers closing around the sharp edge. I scrambled to my feet, my gaze fixed only on Cassie.
"You won' t hurt her," I snarled, my voice raw with desperation. "You won' t touch her again!"
I lunged. Cassie shrieked, scrambling behind Alexander. He stepped forward, his arm raised defensively. The crystal shard, meant for Cassie, sliced across Alexander' s forearm. A thin line of red welled up, stark against his white cuff.
He roared, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. "You crazy bitch! You tried to kill her! You tried to kill Cassie!" He threw me away from him with a force that sent me flying, my head cracking against a marble column.
Darkness threatened to consume me, but the image of Grace, pale and terrified, flashed behind my eyes. A very high place. The rooftop. I had to get to her.
Alexander stalked towards me, his face a mask of pure fury. "You are going to regret this, Hanna. I will make sure you suffer in ways you can' t even imagine."
Cassie, her eyes wide with a malicious triumph, caught the eye of one of Alexander' s ever-present bodyguards. She gestured subtly towards the exit.
I saw it. I saw her. And I knew. They were going to keep me here, trapped, while Grace…
No.
With a desperate surge of adrenaline, I pushed myself up, ignoring the throbbing in my head, the pain in my body. I bolted towards the main entrance, away from the bodyguards who were now moving to intercept me. I had to get to the roof.
Just as I reached the doors, Cassie' s voice, cold and triumphant, stopped me cold. "Look, Hanna. Look what you' ve done."
She held up her phone, its screen displaying a live feed. My breath hitched. It was Grace. She was on the very edge of the Lincoln Center rooftop, the shimmering New York skyline a dizzying backdrop. She was swaying, her eyes unfocused, a chilling, vacant smile on her face. Below her, the streetlights twinkled like scattered jewels, impossibly far away.
"Grace!" I screamed, a guttural cry ripped from the depths of my soul. It was a sound of pure agony, pure terror.
I didn't think. I just ran. I shoved past the bodyguards, ignoring their shouts, ignoring Alexander's furious roar. I had to get to her. I burst out of the ballroom, through the labyrinthine corridors, my feet flying, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm of desperate hope.
I raced up the fire escape, two steps at a time, each breath a searing pain in my lungs. The wind whipped at my hair as I pushed open the heavy rooftop door, stumbling onto the vast expanse of the roof.
Grace.
She was there, standing precariously close to the edge, her arms outstretched, as if embracing the vast emptiness below. Her eyes, when they met mine, held no recognition, only a serene, heartbreaking emptiness.
"Grace, no!" I shrieked, my voice tearing through the night. I lunged forward, my arms outstretched, desperation clawing at my throat.
She turned to me, a faint, ethereal smile gracing her lips. "Hanna," she whispered, her voice like a whisper of wind, "I' m finally free."
Then, she took a step. A single, agonizing step. And she was gone.
"NO!" I screamed, my world collapsing around me. I reached out, my fingers desperate, but all I grasped was empty air.
Alexander burst onto the rooftop behind me, his face contorted in horror. "Grace!" he bellowed, his voice raw with a sudden, chilling realization.
But it was too late.
Without a second thought, I sprinted to the edge, my body propelled by a primal, desperate love. I saw her, a tiny figure plummeting towards the glittering abyss.
I launched myself after her.
I felt the rush of air, the terrifying weightlessness, a sickening lurch in my stomach. My hands, my desperate hands, reached out, grasping, clawing.
I heard Alexander' s horrified shout, a faint echo as the world spiraled into a vortex of wind and falling. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, a desperate, futile attempt to shield her, to save us both.
Then, darkness.
Alexander' s voice, a horrified cry, was the last thing I heard before the world went black.
