Chapter 3
Cole rushed in, looked straight at Mia Greene, and asked anxiously, “Are you okay?”
I stared at the scattered shards, hands shaking as I tried to piece them together.
But they were too shattered.
A sliver sliced my finger; bright blood smeared the white porcelain.
I couldn’t hold back–I started to cry.
Cole frowned, said, “They’re just cheap trinkets. I’ll replace them.”
“These aren’t the same,” I said.
He knew how much they meant to me. I never even took them out unless I had to.
Mia’s face crumpled with guilt, said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I was going to bring them to you later, so I set them on the table, but I lost my footing and they fell. I’m sorry.”
I kept lifting the pieces, one by one, to set them back into the box.
Cole kicked the box aside, said, “Stop picking them up.”
More shards flew. They went everywhere. I sobbed so hard I hiccupped.
“Why–why can’t I pick them up?”
He drew his foot back to kick again, and I wrapped both hands around the fragments and glared up
at him.
Cole pulled his foot back.
I stubbornly gathered every shard into the box, hugged it to my chest, stood, and looked at Mia.
“Why did you touch my things?”
I always kept them in the cabinet. I couldn’t bear to take them out.
They wouldn’t have broken.
Cole tugged Mia behind him, said, “She said it wasn’t on purpose. What more do you want?”
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For the first time, he raised his voice at me for someone else. He even kicked the last things Mom
and Dad left me.
It hurt so much I couldn’t stop gasping through tears.
“I–I kept them in the cabinet. If she didn’t take them out, how would they break?”
“They’re gifts from my parents. Why… why would you do this…”
Cole still shielded her, said, “They’re broken, fine. I said I can buy the same ones. What are you losing it about?”
I stepped back, said, “So you think I’m an idiot. Crazy, too…”
Something flickered in his eyes.
“Go downstairs and behave. I’ll get you the exact same ones tomorrow.”
I shook my head.
I clenched the remaining shards until blood dripped onto the wooden floor.
“They’re not the same. My parents made them with their own hands.”
You can’t buy that again.
Mia’s eyes reddened, said, “It’s my fault. Let me try to fix them.”
Cole seemed relieved, said, “Yeah. Mia trained as an art conservator. Let her try.”
My hands trembled as I held the box out to her.
It slipped; she nearly dropped it.
I lunged to grab it.
Mia flailed–like someone had shoved her–stumbled backward.
The box fell.
What was left shattered further. Even the figurine’s face was gone.
Shards sliced Mia’s palm when she caught herself.
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She cried out, and tears sprang to her eyes, said, “Cole, I didn’t think she’d be so mad at me. It’s
all my fault.”
Rage flashed across Cole’s face, and he said, “Why did you push her? Do you know how important
a conservator’s hands are?”
I stared at the wreckage, at a loss, said, “I–I didn’t!”
“If you didn’t push her, would she risk her hands? You’re being impossible.”
He told the housekeepers to lock me in a room. I could come out when I admitted I was wrong.
Cole didn’t believe me.
I sat in the little room, hugging the wooden box full of shards.
Since what happened when I was little, I’ve been terrified of the dark.
I sleep with the light on.
Back then, every hallway I walked through
lit
up
for me.
Now Cole had them seal the windows shut.
In front of me there was nothing but darkness.
My hands started shaking. I was scared.
It felt like a sponge pressed over my nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe.
I slid to the floor, gulping air.
I clutched the shards inside the box, squeezing hard.
“Mom… Dad…”
Dad died saving me when I was small.
Mom got sick and left later.
They said Dad died because of me, but Mom always said I was the bravest kid in the world.
Dad was a hero.
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Heat crawled over my skin.
My stomach cramped with hunger.
I was so thirsty.
I thought about telling Cole I was wrong.
He didn’t have to marry me.
I wanted to go home and find Mom.
When I tried to stand, I collapsed.
I slapped the door with my palm, but nobody answered.
I smelled blood on my hand.
So thirsty–I licked my fingers.
A shard had edged into my flesh.
I bled and bled, and no one came.
Thunder crashed outside. There should’ve been light, but none got in.
When I used to be scared of storms, Cole would stay with me.
He’d say, “Nellie, don’t be scared. I’m here…”
No matter where I was,
he always showed up.
I curled in on myself and waited.
My body burned hotter.
My head went foggy.
After a long, long time, Cole finally opened the door.
He had a glass of water in his hand, looked down at me, said, “Do you know you were wrong?”
I nodded hard.
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I grabbed the cuff of his pants.
“I was wrong. Nellie… was wrong.‘
Cole smiled. He passed me the water.
Like a dying fish, I clutched it and drank and drank.
When he saw the water gone red, he froze.
“Nellie!”
And the world went dark.
