I told her not to drug random women? That’s hardly—”
“She’s been asking for you,” Alistair cut me off. “Saying your name over and over. What does that tell you?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It tells me she’s still trying to frame me for something.”
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“You need to come to Memorial Hospital right now and face what you’ve done.”
“I haven’t done anything, Alistair.”
“Be here in thirty minutes or I’m calling the police.” He hung up abruptly.
I stared at my phone in disbelief. This was absurd, even for the Everetts. But something told me I needed to face this head-on.
Twenty minutes later, I walked through the hospital entrance, a bouquet of white lilies in my hand. Not out of sympathy-I needed to appear composed and innocent, which I was. The flowers were strategic armor.
As I approached the nurses’ station to ask for Gloria’s room, I spotted Alistair speaking with a man in an expensive suit down the hallway. I hung back, deliberately positioning myself where I could overhear their conversation.
“The rape kit results are preliminary,” the suited man was saying, his voice low and professional. “But there’s evidence of sexual activity. Whether it was consensual is harder to prove.”
“She says it wasn’t,” Alistair insisted. “She was drugged. Just like someone tried to do to her before.”
The lawyer-because that’s clearly what he was-glanced at his notes. “And you believe your ex-fiancée orchestrated this as revenge?”
“It’s too coincidental,” Alistair said. “Gloria rejected a drink from a stranger at the bar, then woke up hours later with no memory. Who else would want to hurt her this way?”
I felt sick. Not with guilt, but with disgust at their desperate attempt to pin this on me. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. “Alistair.”
He spun around, his face hardening at the sight of me. “You actually came.”
“You threatened to call the police,” I replied coolly. “Of course I came.”
His eyes dropped to the flowers in my hand. “What are those supposed to be? A sick joke?”
“They’re called common decency,” I said. “Something you wouldn’t recognize. Can I see
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172 A Recorded Deception
Gloria now?”
The lawyer gave me a calculating look. “Ms. Shaw, I presume? I’m Howard Beck, the Everett family attorney.”
I nodded curtly. “Mr. Beck.”
“Gloria claims you were involved in her assault last night,” he stated bluntly.
“Gloria is lying,” I replied, equally direct. “I was home all night. I have security footage from my building to prove it.”
Alistair’s jaw tightened. “She’s in here. You can tell her that to her face.”
He pushed open the door to a private room. Gloria lay in the bed, her blonde hair fanned out against the white pillow. Her makeup was artfully smudged-just enough to look distressed without being unattractive.
When she saw me, her eyes widened dramatically. “Get her out of here!” she shrieked, pressing herself against the headboard. “Why is she here? Don’t let her near me!”
I stood at the foot of her bed, unmoved by the performance. “Hello, Gloria.”
“Alistair, make her leave!” Gloria sobbed, clutching the sheets to her chest.
“I brought you flowers,” I said, setting the bouquet on the side table. “Notice they’re all closed buds. They haven’t opened yet. Seemed appropriate.”
Gloria’s eyes flashed with genuine anger before she covered it with another theatrical sob. “You’re mocking me! She’s mocking what happened to me!”
Alistair stepped between us. “Hazel, I brought you here to apologize to my sister.”
I laughed, the sound harsh in the sterile room. “Apologize? For what? I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Gloria.”
“You sent someone after me!” Gloria cried. “You couldn’t do your dirty work yourself, so you hired someone!”
I studied her flushed face, her trembling hands. There was real panic there, but not directed at me. She was afraid of something else.
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“That’s a serious accusation,” I said softly. “Do you have any proof?”
“I don’t need proof!” she spat. “I know it was you! You threatened me!”
Alistair gripped my arm. “She was drugged and raped, Hazel. Is that revenge enough for you?”
I shook his hand off. “I didn’t do anything to your sister. But I think I know what happened.”
Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my phone. “Last night, around 10 PM, I received this interesting message from an unknown number.”
I tapped the screen a few times, then turned it to face them. “It’s surveillance footage from a hotel bar. The Metropolitan, I believe.”
Gloria’s face drained of color. “Don’t-”
“The sender thought I might find it interesting,” I continued, my finger hovering over the play button. “And they were right.”
“Stop!” Gloria shrieked, her eyes wild with panic. “Don’t watch! You guys don’t watch!”
The room froze in tense silence. Alistair looked between his sister’s terrified face and
my calm one, confusion warring with suspicion.
“What’s on that video, Hazel?” he asked quietly.
I met his gaze steadily. “The truth about what really happened to your sister last night. And I promise you, it has nothing to do with me.”
Gloria was practically hyperventilating now, her performance completely shattered. “It’s fake! Whatever she’s going to show you, it’s all lies!”
The lawyer stepped forward, professional interest piqued. “Ms. Shaw, if you have evidence pertinent to these accusations-”
“Oh, I do,” I assured him, my finger still hovering over the play button. “The question is, are you ready to see who really needs to apologize here?”
Gloria’s scream cut through the room like a knife. “Don’t watch it! Please don’t watch
it!”
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172 A Recorded Deception
The composed victim act had completely crumbled, revealing the desperate liar beneath. Alistair stared at his sister, seeing-perhaps for the first time-the truth written plainly across her face.
173 A Sister’s Sin, A Husband’s Choice
Hazel’s POV
I held my phone steady, watching the Everetts’ faces as realization dawned. Gloria had gone deathly pale, her earlier theatrical sobs replaced by genuine terror. Alistair
looked torn between disbelief and dread.
“Give me the phone.” His voice was tight, controlled.
I hesitated, savoring this moment of power. “Are you sure you want to see this?”
Gloria lunged forward in her hospital bed. “Alistair, don’t! She’s manipulating you!”
Liana Everett chose that moment to sweep into the room, her designer heels clicking against the floor tiles. “What is that woman doing here?” she demanded, glaring at me.
I smiled coldly. “Perfect timing, Mrs. Everett. You’re just in time for the family viewing.”
Alistair snatched the phone from my hand. His mother hurried to his side as he pressed play. The surveillance footage showed Gloria at the hotel bar, clearly animated and flirtatious with a dark-haired man. They talked closely, laughed, and clinked glasses. No sign of reluctance or drugging. The timestamp moved forward as the footage showed them entering an elevator together, Gloria’s hand already sliding inside his jacket.
“This proves nothing,” Liana hissed. “So she had a drink with someone.”
“Keep watching,” I instructed.
The next clip showed Gloria leaving the man’s room early in the morning, straightening her dress, looking perfectly sober and satisfied. She checked her appearance in her compact mirror before pulling out her phone. The footage zoomed in remarkably well on her text messages: “It’s done. Now we have something on her.”
Alistair’s knuckles whitened around my phone. “What the hell is this, Gloria?”
Gloria’s face crumpled. “It’s fake! She doctored it!”
“The Metropolitan Hotel has excellent security cameras,” I remarked. “And their head
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