The antique bottle tipped. It rolled off the cradle, gathering speed as it fell.
It grazed Alta's shoulder, the heavy glass shattering against the ladder rung beside her. A shard of crystal sliced deeply into her collarbone, and she screamed, a raw, animal sound of pain and terror.
Then the rest of the tower collapsed.
It was a cascade of destruction. Hundreds of crystal flutes shattered in a chain reaction, the sound like a thousand wind chimes breaking at once. It was deafening, drowning out the string quartet, drowning out the gasps of the crowd.
A tidal wave of golden champagne poured over the edge of the table, a rushing river of alcohol and glass shards.
Alta hit the floor hard, her body lost in the avalanche. The liquid washed over her, soaking her white dress until it was transparent and stained yellow. Shards of glass glittered in her hair, embedded in the fabric.
She curled into a ball, her hands covering her head as the last of the glasses rained down around her. Blood seeped from a gash on her forehead, mixing with the champagne to create a pale pink puddle on the marble.
The ballroom went dead silent. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of the remaining liquid falling from the ruined table.
Then, the room exploded. People were shouting, pointing, and the flash of cameras was blinding. It was a media circus.
Greggory stood a few feet away, splatters of champagne on his tailored trousers. He stared at the crumpled, bleeding figure of his lover on the floor.
His first instinct wasn't to help her. He grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and furiously wiped at the wet spots on his suit, his face twisted in disgust.
Annalise watched from the second floor. She didn't flinch. She didn't look away. She simply observed the destruction she had orchestrated with the cold detachment of a surgeon.
Eddy slipped the phone back into his pocket, his face impassive. "Got it, Miss Knowles," he said quietly, stepping back into the shadows.
A faint, satisfied smile touched Annalise's lips. It was gone in an instant.
Harrison Knowles pushed his way through the crowd, his face pale with shock. He stopped at the edge of the mess, staring at his stepdaughter lying in the wreckage.
"What happened?" he bellowed, his voice echoing over the noise.
Arthur, the butler, immediately stepped forward, his arms wide to block the view of the more aggressive photographers. "Back, please. Give her room."
Annalise walked down the stairs, her pace unhurried. She stepped over a puddle of champagne, her red dress trailing through the mess.
She reached her father's side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.
"Alta insisted on climbing, Father. I couldn't stop her," she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "She wanted to prove herself. It was an accident."
It was a perfect lie. Delivered with the right amount of regret and helplessness.
Harrison looked at his daughter, then at the sobbing mess on the floor. He frowned, his brow furrowed, but he didn't question her. Annalise was his blood. Alta was just his late wife's mistake.
In the middle of the floor, Alta pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Glass crunched beneath her palms. She looked up, her wet hair hanging in her face.
Her eyes locked onto Annalise. They burned with a hatred so intense it was almost tangible. It was a promise of pain.
Annalise met her gaze. She didn't look away. She didn't flinch. She just stared back, her eyes saying the words she couldn't speak out loud: This is just the beginning.
The paramedics arrived, pushing through the crowd with a stretcher. They quickly loaded Alta onto it, strapping her down.
Greggory finally stepped forward, his composure recovered. He grabbed Alta's hand, his face a mask of concern. "You're going to be okay," he murmured, playing the part of the hero.
But his eyes weren't on Alta. They were on Annalise. He still thought this was a game. He thought she had thrown a tantrum because she was jealous. He thought this proved she loved him.
Annalise watched the stretcher being carried away, the red and white lights of the ambulance flashing through the windows.
The fire in her chest burned hotter. It wasn't enough. It was a down payment.
She turned away from the mess, her spine straightening. She had a party to finish.
