Kiana Craig POV:

The phone, still clutched in my hand, vibrated with a ghost of Jonathan' s presence. I tossed it onto the passenger seat, the rejection a familiar sting, but this time, it felt different. It felt like freedom. The anger was a fire in my belly, burning away the last vestiges of the pathetic girl who chased a man's approval.

The drive to my father' s estate, a sprawling nightmare of marble and gilded indifference, was a blur. My mind replayed Jonathan' s callous words, his blank eyes as he walked away, the sickening image of him handing Kecia my mother' s bracelet. Each memory was a fresh cut, but each cut hardened my resolve.

I parked the car in the meticulously manicured driveway, the familiar grandeur feeling suffocating. This was the house where my mother had once been vibrant, where her laughter used to echo. Now, it was a mausoleum of her memory, a monument to my father' s betrayal and Debrah' s relentless social climbing.

As I walked through the grand entrance, the silence was deafening. No servants scurrying, no Debrah orchestrating another charity gala. Just the stale air of a house too large for its inhabitants, and a sense of impending doom hanging heavy.

My father, Kearney Craig, sat in his study, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his usually impeccable suit looking rumpled. He didn't look up from his papers when I entered.

"Dad," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

He startled, his head snapping up. His eyes, usually shrewd and calculating, held a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by a familiar annoyance. "Kiana. What are you doing here? I thought you were with Jonathan."

The raw wound in my chest throbbed. "Jonathan and I are over," I stated, the words tasting like ash, but carrying a new, unfamiliar power.

My father' s eyebrows shot up. He put down his glass, a rare display of attention. "Over? What happened? Did you do something?" His tone was accusatory, already blaming me.

I clenched my fists. "He gave my mother's heirloom bracelet to Kecia. After she almost put me in the hospital with a peanut allergy attack."

His expression didn't change. Not a flicker of anger for Kecia, not a hint of concern for me. Just a pragmatic calculation. "The Cartier? That was a substantial piece. But Kecia... she's so delicate. Maybe she needed cheering up. And the allergy, Kiana, you know how sensitive she is. You must have provoked her."

My stomach churned. This was my father. The man who was supposed to protect me. He had always been this way, turning a blind eye to Kecia's manipulations, excusing Debrah's cruelty. My mother' s death had left me exposed, vulnerable to their relentless erosion of my self-worth.

"Provoked her?" I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "She knew, Dad. She always knew. And Jonathan let her do it. He chose her over me."

"Nonsense," he waved his hand dismissively. "Jonathan is a busy man. He cares about you, Kiana. He just has a lot on his plate."

The delusion I had clung to for so long, the belief that Jonathan truly cared, crumbled into dust. It was never about me. It was about his misplaced sense of debt to Kecia, and my father's desperate need to secure a powerful son-in-law.

"He doesn't care about me," I said, my voice rising, trembling with a newfound rage. "He never did. I was just a trophy, a plaything. And I'm done playing."

My father' s jaw tightened. "Watch your tone, Kiana. You're being ungrateful. Jonathan is a catch. You won't find anyone better."

"I don't want anyone better," I spat. "I want out. Out of this, out of him, out of all of you."

A sudden thought, cold and clear, pierced through the haze of my anger. The marriage contract. The one he had shoved under my nose weeks ago, trying to save his failing company. He wanted me to marry Gage Sawyer, the supposed "Sleeping Prince." He wanted me to be a dutiful daughter, a sacrificial lamb.

A dangerous idea formed in my mind. What if I said yes? Not for him, but for me. For a clean break. For a chance to reclaim something, anything, of my mother' s legacy.

"You wanted me to sign that contract, didn't you?" I asked, my voice low and steady. "The one for Gage Sawyer."

My father stiffened. "Kiana, that's not... It was a suggestion. A business opportunity."

"It's more than that, isn't it? Your company is bleeding. You need the Sawyer family's capital. And you need me to be the sacrificial lamb."

He averted his gaze, a tell-tale sign of his guilt. "It would stabilize things, Kiana. For the family."

"For your family, Dad. Not mine." My mother's charity. I had always loved it. It was her passion, her legacy. But Debrah and Kecia had slowly siphoned its funds, turning it into another one of their vanity projects.

"I'll do it," I said, my voice firm. "I'll marry Gage Sawyer."

My father's head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. "You will?"

"On one condition." I met his gaze, my eyes hard. "I want full, irrevocable control of my mother' s charity foundation. Every cent, every decision. And I want the shares of Craig Enterprises that my mother left me. Not held in trust, not managed by you. Directly in my name. Now."

His jaw dropped. "Kiana! That's preposterous! The charity needs proper oversight. And your shares... that's a significant portion of the company!"

"It was my mother's legacy," I countered, my voice laced with steel. "And it's my right. Take it or leave it. I'm walking away from Jonathan. If you don't agree, I walk away from everything. You can watch your company crumble while Kecia uses your money to buy more crystals for her 'wellness' retreats."

The door creaked open. Debrah, my stepmother, stood there, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair and designer dress a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere. Kecia, ever the shadow, peered over her shoulder, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, but a malicious glint shone beneath.

"What's all this shouting?" Debrah purred, her gaze sweeping over me with disdain. "Kiana, darling, you look positively dreadful. Did Jonathan finally get tired of your theatrics?"

Kecia giggled, a sweet, sickening sound.

My father, flustered, tried to intervene. "Debrah, not now. Kiana and I are discussing something important."

"Oh, important, is it?" Debrah smirked, her eyes narrowing on me. "I heard about the macaron incident. Really, Kiana, you must stop trying to compete with Kecia. It's embarrassing. She's so much more... delicate."

My blood ran cold. "Delicate?" I snarled, my control snapping. "Your 'delicate' daughter almost killed me. And you stand there, defending her? Both of you are toxic, venomous creatures."

Debrah gasped, feigning offense. "Kiana! How dare you speak to me like that? After everything we've done for you!"

"Done for me?" I laughed, a truly deranged sound. "You ruined my reputation, spread rumors, stole my inheritance, and tried to poison me. What exactly have you done for me, Debrah? Other than make my life a living hell?"

My father slammed his fist on the desk. "Enough! Kiana, that's enough! Apologize to Debrah and Kecia immediately!"

My gaze locked with his. "I will do no such thing. My terms stand. The charity, my shares, or I walk. And I promise you, Dad, if I walk, I'll make sure the world knows exactly what kind of man you are. And what kind of 'family' you have."

Debrah' s face twisted into an ugly snarl. "Kearney, don't you dare! She's blackmailing you! That charity is practically ours! And her shares... it would cripple us!"

"It' s not blackmail," I said, my voice chillingly calm. "It's a business proposition. Just like your proposal for me to marry a comatose man."

My father looked from my determined face to Debrah' s furious one, then to Kecia' s pout. The fear of financial ruin warred with his weak loyalty to his new family. Profit always won with Kearney Craig.

He finally slumped back in his chair, running a hand over his face. "Fine," he gritted out. "But if you betray us... "

"I won't betray you," I said, a cold smile forming on my lips. "I'm just finally putting myself first. Draw up the papers. Tonight. I want everything in writing, legally binding, before the sun rises."

Debrah shrieked. "Kearney! You can't be serious!"

"Shut up, Debrah!" My father snapped, his voice hoarse. He knew he was cornered. "Just... shut up." He looked at me, a flicker of something, maybe fear, maybe respect, in his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain, Kiana."

"I learned from the best," I retorted, a subtle nod towards him.

I turned to leave, a strange sense of triumph mingling with the bitter pain. As I reached the door, I heard Debrah's furious whisper.

"She's finally broken," she hissed to my father. "Look at her, she's unraveling. She'll sign anything to escape. We'll get her shares back eventually, Kearney. Just humor her for now. Let her play queen of her pathetic little charity."

Kecia' s voice, sweet as poison, chimed in. "Yes, Daddy. Kiana is so emotional. She'll regret this."

I paused, my hand on the doorknob. My heart, which had just begun to feel a fragile sense of calm, hardened further. Unraveling? Regret? Oh, they had no idea. This wasn't unraveling. This was me, finally, coldly, meticulously putting myself back together.

I wouldn't just take the charity and the shares. I would take everything they had ever taken from me. I would make them regret this day.

My footsteps echoed as I walked down the long hallway, away from their poisonous whispers. I needed a moment. A place to grieve the girl I had been, and to embrace the woman I was becoming.

I walked into the small, overgrown garden tucked away at the back of the estate. My mother used to spend hours here, tending to her roses. I knelt by a withered bush, tracing the outline of a faded blossom. "Mom," I whispered, the word a raw ache in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I let them hurt me for too long."

A single tear escaped, tracing a path down my cheek, but it wasn't a tear of weakness. It was a tear of resolve. I would honor her memory. I would make sure her charity thrived, genuinely, not as a facade for Debrah's social climbing. And I would make sure Jonathan, Kecia, and my father all understood the price of their betrayal.

The sun was beginning to paint the sky with streaks of orange and purple. A new day. A new Kiana.

The paperwork would be signed. The wedding would happen. And Jonathan Chavez, along with everyone who had wronged me, would soon discover the depths of my resolve. They thought I was broken. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

Kiana Craig POV:

The scent of stale champagne and desperation clung to the air in my father's study. The ink on the contracts was barely dry, but the weight of the paper in my hand felt solid, real. My mother's charity, Craig Foundation, finally free from Debrah's grasping fingers. My shares, no longer a pawn in my father's games. The price? My marriage to Gage Sawyer, the "Sleeping Prince." A grim trade, but a necessary one.

I walked out of the study, the legal documents tucked safely into my bag. A strange lightness lifted my shoulders, even as a hollow ache settled in my chest. The old Kiana, the one who loved Jonathan, was officially dead.

As I approached the drawing-room, I heard voices. More specifically, Kecia' s saccharine giggle and Jonathan' s deep, resonant laugh. My steps faltered. A cold knot tightened in my stomach. They were here. Already.

I pushed the door open, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. The scene was perfectly choreographed. Kecia, draped over Jonathan' s arm like a delicate vine, her head tilted up at him, her eyes sparkling. Jonathan, looking impeccably disheveled, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, gazing down at her with a tenderness I had never truly received. My father and Debrah sat opposite them, beaming with what I now recognized as pure, unadulterated greed.

"Kiana, darling!" Debrah cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Look who's decided to grace us with his presence! Jonathan came to cheer up poor Kecia."

Kecia, catching my eye, managed a delicate sniffle, then buried her face deeper into Jonathan' s shoulder. He stroked her hair, his gaze flicking to me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he settled back on Kecia.

My heart should have shattered. It should have. But it didn't. It felt like a dried-up husk, brittle and unfeeling. The tears were gone, replaced by a cold, searing anger.

I let out a soft, mocking laugh, a sound that made everyone in the room turn their heads, their expressions ranging from annoyance to outright shock.

My father frowned, his attention immediately back on Jonathan. He rarely looked directly at me anymore, unless he wanted something. "Kiana, don't be rude. Jonathan was kind enough to join us."

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Jonathan. He looked good. Too good. The kind of good that made you want to hate him, even when you knew hate was a wasted emotion.

I walked to the sideboard, poured myself a glass of champagne, and took a long sip. The bubbles tickled my throat, but the bitterness remained.

"So," Kecia piped up, her voice surprisingly clear for someone supposedly "upset," "Kiana, what are you doing here? I thought you were... making amends with yourself." She punctuated the last phrase with a pointed glance at Jonathan, as if to say, He's mine now.

Jonathan' s grip on Kecia' s arm tightened almost imperceptibly. He finally looked at me, a direct, unsettling stare. "Kiana. Are you feeling better? About the... incident?"

The incident. He hadn' t called, hadn' t visited. He didn' t care. He was just performing for Kecia.

"Oh, much better, Jonathan," I replied, my voice smooth, almost purring. "Turns out, some things are just better left behind. Like toxic relationships, and people who prioritize manipulative half-sisters over their supposed girlfriends."

Jonathan' s eyes narrowed. Kecia gasped dramatically, pulling away slightly. "Kiana! How can you say such a thing? I was so worried about you!"

"Worried enough to send me flowers?" I challenged, my eyebrows raised. "Worried enough to visit? Or worried enough to make sure Jonathan chose you over me, even when I was in a hospital bed?"

"Kiana!" Jonathan's voice was sharp, a warning edge I knew well. "That's enough. Kecia was very shaken by what happened. You shouldn't blame her."

I laughed again, a colder, more cutting sound this time. "Shaken? She was practically celebrating. Don't insult my intelligence, Jonathan. Or yours, for that matter."

He moved, releasing Kecia and taking a step towards me. "Kiana, I'm warning you. Don't push me."

"Or what?" I challenged, meeting his gaze head-on. "You' ll throw me out? You already did that, didn't you? You left me for her." I gestured vaguely at Kecia, whose eyes were now welling up with perfectly timed tears.

"Kiana!" My father finally intervened, his face pale. "Stop this at once! Jonathan, please, forgive my daughter. She's... distraught. She doesn't know what she's saying."

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm saying, Dad," I corrected, my eyes still locked with Jonathan' s. "I'm saying you're a coward, Jonathan. A spineless man who can't see past his own ego and a manipulative woman's tears."

His face darkened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He clearly wasn't used to being spoken to this way. The old Kiana would have crumbled, apologised, begged for forgiveness. This Kiana, however, felt nothing but a fierce satisfaction.

"Kiana, I think you should leave," Jonathan said, his voice low and menacing. "Before you say something you truly regret."

"Regret?" I scoffed. "The only thing I regret is wasting years on you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important business to attend to. Business that actually generates real profit, not just a facade of 'wellness' for Kecia' s latest scam."

I turned, a flicker of something in my father' s eyes that looked suspiciously like admiration, quickly replaced by fear.

"What is she talking about, Kearney?" Debrah demanded, clinging to my father's arm.

My father cleared his throat, avoiding their gazes. "It's nothing. Just... Kiana being Kiana."

"Oh, it's something," I chimed in, turning back to face them, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "It's the future, Dad. And it doesn't involve me being Jonathan's pet, or Kecia's scapegoat."

Kecia, ever the master of deflection, sniffled again. "Jonathan, Kiana is being so mean to me. I just wanted to feel better, and she's making it worse."

Jonathan immediately moved to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. He glared at me. "Kiana, apologize to Kecia. Now."

My jaw tightened. "Apologize? For what? For telling the truth? For being tired of her games and your blindness?"

"Kiana!" he roared, his patience clearly snapping. "If you don't apologize, I will make sure you lose everything. Your social standing, your reputation, everything you think you have."

My laughter was genuine this time, sharp and unhinged. "You think you can take anything more from me, Jonathan? You already took my heart, my dignity, and my mother' s bracelet. What else could you possibly take?" I paused, my gaze sweeping over my father and Debrah. "Oh, wait. I know. My father's company. You can take that too. It's already crumbling, thanks to his brilliant business decisions and Kecia's insatiable appetite for vanity projects."

My father's face turned ashen. Debrah gasped. Jonathan's eyes, however, showed a flicker of confused surprise.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, his grip on Kecia loosening.

"Oh, nothing much," I said, shrugging casually. "Just that I'm officially marrying Gage Sawyer. To save the Craig family, of course. My father insisted." I smiled, a cold, predatory smile. "So, you see, Jonathan, I'm hardly in a position to lose anything. In fact, I'm gaining a husband. And a powerful family name. While you're stuck with... well, with Kecia." I winked at Kecia, whose face had gone from tearful to horrified.

Jonathan stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. He opened it to speak, but no words came out.

Kecia, however, found her voice. "What? No! Kiana, you can't! You're with Jonathan! You love him!" She looked at Jonathan, her eyes wide and panicked. "Tell her, Jonathan! Tell her she can't!"

Jonathan's gaze was fixed on me, a storm brewing in his eyes. He didn't speak. He couldn't.

My father looked relieved, Debrah looked furious, and Kecia looked utterly betrayed. A perfect tableau.

"Well," I said, taking another sip of champagne. "It's been a lovely evening. But I have a wedding to plan. And a new life to build. One that doesn't involve pretending to be less than I am, just to make others comfortable."

I set the glass down with a delicate clink, then turned and walked out of the drawing-room, leaving behind the stunned silence and the wreckage of their perfect little illusion. The air outside felt crisp, clean. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe.

The battle wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But the first shot had been fired. And it wasn't aimed at me this time.

Kiana Craig POV:

The silence in the grand hallway was thick, heavy enough to suffocate. I could almost feel Jonathan' s furious gaze burning a hole in my back, even without turning around. My words, meant as a declaration of independence, had landed like a bombshell. Marrying Gage Sawyer wasn't just a strategic move; it was a defiant middle finger to everyone who had ever underestimated or hurt me.

I walked faster, my heels clicking on the polished marble floors, a rhythm of newfound resolve. I had to get out of this house, away from their toxic energy, before the cold certainty I felt solidified into something brittle.

"Kiana!" Jonathan's voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through the air.

I stopped, but I didn't turn. I had faced his anger too many times. This time, I wouldn't let it touch me.

He strode up behind me, his hand clamping down on my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. "What do you mean, you're marrying Gage Sawyer? You're being absurd. You're my girlfriend."

I finally turned, meeting his furious gaze. His beautiful face was contorted with disbelief and rage. "No, Jonathan," I said, my voice eerily calm, "I'm not your girlfriend. Not anymore. I made that clear last night. And as for Gage Sawyer, it's a business arrangement. My father approved it. Signed, sealed, delivered."

His eyes widened, then narrowed. "A business arrangement? You're marrying a man in a coma? To save your father's failing company? That's pathetic, Kiana. You're selling yourself."

The words stung, but they didn't break me. "Perhaps I am," I conceded, a cynical smile touching my lips. "But at least I'm doing it for myself, for my mother's legacy, not for a man who would rather appease his manipulative half-sister than protect the woman he supposedly loves."

His jaw tightened. "Kiana, you're being emotional. You know I care about you."

"Do I?" I countered, my voice laced with venom. "Do I know that, Jonathan? Because all I've seen is you choosing Kecia, over and over again. Choosing her lies, her fake tears, her ridiculous 'wellness' schemes. You even chose her over my health, over my very life." The memory of the macaron, the swelling, the terror, flashed through my mind.

He flinched, a flicker of something in his eyes-guilt? Regret? It was quickly masked by anger. "That was an accident! Kecia didn't mean to-"

"Stop lying, Jonathan!" I cut him off, my voice rising. "She knew! You knew! And you still made me eat it! To prove I wasn't 'jealous' of her? To appease her fragile ego? Tell me, Jonathan, is that how little I matter to you?"

His grip on my arm tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You're overreacting, Kiana. This is what you always do."

"Overreacting?" I laughed, a mirthless sound. "Last night, you walked out on me. With my mother's bracelet in your hand. To go to Kecia. While I was still recovering from a near-fatal allergic reaction. And you call that overreacting?"

His eyes flashed. "The bracelet wasn't yours, Kiana! Your father sold it! I bought it fair and square!"

"And then you gave it to Kecia!" I screamed, finally letting the raw pain and anger erupt. "My mother's last piece of jewelry! She loved that bracelet more than anything! And you gave it to that snake!"

"She's not a snake!" he roared back, his face inches from mine. "She's a sweet, innocent girl who has been through a lot! And you're just a spoiled, jealous brat who never got what she wanted!"

His words hit me like a physical blow. Spoiled. Jealous. Brat. The labels Debrah and Kecia had carefully crafted for years, now echoing from the lips of the man I loved. It wasn't just a breakup. It was an annihilation.

A tear escaped, hot and stinging, but I quickly blinked it away. I wouldn't cry for him. Not anymore.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "If that's what you truly believe, Jonathan. Then there's nothing left to say."

I pulled my arm away from his grasp, the pain of his fingers a dull ache compared to the gaping wound in my soul. I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist again, harder this time.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Kiana!" he snarled. "You're not marrying anyone. You're mine."

"I am not a possession, Jonathan!" I hissed, struggling against him. "And I am certainly not yours!"

"Jonathan! Kiana! What is going on here?" Debrah's shrill voice cut through the tension. She appeared at the end of the hallway, Kecia clinging to her, both of them looking like they' d just witnessed a tragedy. Kecia' s eyes were wide, and she looked genuinely terrified this time.

Jonathan, clearly rattled by the audience, immediately released my wrist. He smoothed his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Kiana was just leaving," he said, his voice clipped.

"Oh," Kecia whimpered, her eyes darting between us. "But... but she said she was marrying Gage Sawyer. Jonathan, she can't! You two are meant to be!" She turned to me, her voice suddenly stronger. "Kiana, don't be silly. Jonathan loves you. He just has a lot on his mind."

I stared at her, my resolve hardening. She was still playing the game, still trying to manipulate him, even after everything.

"He doesn't love me, Kecia," I said, my voice flat. "He loves the idea of me, perhaps. Or the convenience. But he doesn't love me." My gaze flickered to Jonathan, whose face was unreadable. "And I'm not silly. I'm just finally making a choice for myself."

"But... the bracelet..." Kecia began, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"The bracelet was never yours, Kecia," I said, cutting her off. "It was stolen from my mother's memory, just like you tried to steal my life. But you won't. Not anymore."

Jonathan stepped between us, shielding Kecia. "That's enough, Kiana. Go home. You're clearly not well."

"Home?" I scoffed. "My home is wherever I choose it to be, Jonathan. And it's certainly not here, with you, or with them." I gestured to Debrah and Kecia, who were now whispering conspiratorially.

I turned and walked away, not running, not crying, but walking with a new strength I hadn't known I possessed. I heard Kecia's choked sob, then Jonathan's hushed reassurances. He was comforting her. Always her.

The grand, ornate front door of my father's estate closed behind me with a soft thud. I was outside, under the vast, indifferent sky. The air had a bite to it, colder than I remembered. But the coldness was a welcome sensation, a stark contrast to the burning inferno that had consumed me inside.

I walked to my car, my mind a whirlwind of shattered dreams and dawning resolve. Jonathan: the man who had promised a future, only to leave me bleeding on the floor of his penthouse. Kecia: the sister who had always found new ways to wound me, her innocence a cloak for her venom. My father: the weak man who sacrificed his daughter for profit. And Debrah: the architect of my misery.

They had all played their parts in pushing me to the brink. They had all broken me, piece by agonizing piece.

But they hadn't destroyed me. They had forged me.

A sudden, sharp pain flared in my chest. My vision wavered. The lingering effects of the allergy attack, combined with the emotional onslaught, proved too much. My legs gave way, and I crumpled to the ground, the cold concrete biting into my knees.

The world spun. Darkness encroached, a welcome oblivion. I closed my eyes, the last image burned into my mind: Jonathan's face, twisted with anger, embracing Kecia.

I woke up to the sterile scent of disinfectant and the dull hum of medical machines. My head throbbed. My throat felt raw. I was back in a hospital bed. Again.

"She's awake." A nurse's voice, distant and muffled.

I tried to move, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light.

"Kiana Craig, the socialite. Another dramatic episode." A hushed whisper from the hallway.

"I heard she had a massive allergic reaction last week, too. Poor thing, always in some kind of trouble."

"And Jonathan Chavez, her billionaire boyfriend, was just seen leaving with her half-sister. Can you believe the gall?"

My heart, already a bruised and battered thing, clenched tighter. The public narrative. The "party girl" Kiana, always causing drama, always the victim of her own excesses. And Jonathan, the valiant tech mogul, dealing with her antics.

The injustice was a bitter taste in my mouth. They had twisted everything, just as they always did.

My door creaked open. My father stood there, his face etched with a familiar weariness. Beside him, Kecia, her eyes wide with concern, a soft cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders. And behind them, Jonathan.

My breath hitched. My entire body tensed.

"Kiana," my father began, his voice low. "You gave us quite a scare."

Kecia stepped forward, her voice a soft lament. "Oh, Kiana. I was so worried when I heard you collapsed. Are you okay? The doctors said it was an allergic reaction again. Are you sure you're taking your medication?" Her tone implied I was being irresponsible.

My gaze, however, was fixed on Jonathan. He stood there, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of exasperation and something unreadable.

"Kecia, dear, don't upset her," Jonathan said, his voice gentle as he placed a reassuring hand on Kecia's shoulder. He looked at me then, his eyes cold. "Kiana, you need to understand. Your behavior is unacceptable. You can't just lash out at people."

My blood ran cold. He was blaming me. Again. For collapsing after his betrayal. For reacting to Kecia's poison.

"My behavior?" I rasped, my throat raw. "My behavior is unacceptable? What about hers, Jonathan? What about yours?"

Kecia sniffled, clinging to Jonathan. "Kiana, please. We just want you to be okay."

My eyes narrowed. She was good. So good.

"Jonathan," I said, ignoring Kecia, "did she tell you how she scratched her arm? Was it from 'protecting' you from my 'tantrum'?" My voice dripped with sarcasm.

Jonathan's jaw tightened. He looked at Kecia's arm, then back at me, his eyes filled with a warning.