The morning sun hit the windows of the hospital room, but Alyson felt nothing but cold determination.
She reached over and ripped the IV needle out of the back of her hand.
A thick drop of blood swelled and rolled down her knuckles, but she didn't flinch.
Nurse Jenkins rushed into the room, her eyes wide with panic.
"Mrs. Holt! You can't leave! You have fractured ribs and need to be monitored!"
"Bring me the discharge papers," Alyson demanded, holding a tissue to her bleeding hand.
She signed the medical waiver against doctor's advice, changed into the clothes the hospital staff had washed and dried for her, and walked out the front doors.
Every single step she took sent a violent tremor of agony radiating from her fractured ribs. She had to lean heavily against the cold glass of the hospital doors for a full minute, gritting her teeth until the blinding dizziness and nausea subsided, refusing to let herself collapse.
She took a cab straight back to the Upper East Side penthouse.
Every breath sent a sharp stab of pain through her chest, but she kept her posture perfectly straight, running purely on the cold, mechanical adrenaline of survival.
She stepped out of the elevator and pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner on the front door.
"Beep-Verification Failed."
The robotic voice echoed in the empty hallway.
Alyson narrowed her eyes. She punched in the six-digit passcode.
Error.
The locks had been changed overnight.
A cold smirk touched her lips. She unzipped the hidden pocket of her bag and pulled out a heavy brass override key.
She slid it into the concealed keyhole beneath the keypad and turned it.
The heavy door clicked open.
Alyson stepped inside, and her footsteps immediately stopped.
The minimalist, pristine living room was completely trashed.
Over a dozen bright pink Louis Vuitton hard trunks and luxury shopping bags were piled across the expensive rugs.
The air was thick with a sickeningly sweet floral perfume, completely drowning out the cedarwood scent Alyson usually kept in the house.
Sitting on the center sofa, holding a porcelain coffee cup, was Chelsea.
She was wearing Alyson's dark burgundy silk robe.
Chelsea turned her head at the sound of the door.
A brief flash of shock crossed her face when she saw Alyson standing there, pale but very much alive.
The shock quickly melted into a smug, victorious smile.
"Sister, you finally decided to come back? I thought you actually ran away from home," Chelsea purred, setting her cup down.
Alyson ignored the bait. Her eyes locked onto the fabric draped over Chelsea's shoulders.
"That is my robe."
Her voice was flat, carrying no anger, only a chilling emptiness.
Chelsea touched her collarbone, feigning innocence.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Kenton brought me back here so late last night, I just grabbed the first thing I saw in the closet."
She emphasized the words 'last night' with a sickening sweetness.
"Besides, Kenton said you don't deserve to wear silk anyway. He told me to take whatever I want." Chelsea covered her mouth, giggling softly.
Yesterday, those words would have ripped Alyson's heart in half.
Today, looking at Chelsea felt like watching a clown perform a pathetic trick.
"If you enjoy wearing other people's used trash, keep it," Alyson said smoothly.
Chelsea's smile vanished.
She hadn't expected the usually quiet, submissive Alyson to bite back.
She stood up, her face twisting with sudden malice.
"Don't act so tough. Kenton already agreed to let me move in."
She took a step closer. "He told me to tell you that if you upset me again, he'll cut off your credit cards."
Alyson walked right past her, heading straight for the study.
"Let him."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Chelsea snapped, reaching out to grab Alyson's arm.
Alyson stopped and slowly turned her head.
Her eyes were so dark and lethal that Chelsea instinctively snatched her hand back, her heart skipping a beat in fear.
"It means," Alyson whispered, "I am giving you this garbage dump."
She stepped into the study and slammed the door shut, locking it from the inside.
She blocked out Chelsea's furious screaming and walked over to the desk, flipping open her MacBook.
