Chapter 2

Bernard stood and looked down at my sister.

"Three million. Not a cent less. You don't pay, you wait for the court summons."

She kept her eyes shut and didn't answer him.

He crouched down again, his voice suddenly soft.

"Sophie, if you cooperate with me, I can knock some off. You know how hard things are for the company right now."

She turned her face the other way, unwilling to give him a single word.

His expression darkened. He stood and brushed the dust off his knees.

"Tomorrow Freya's coming to see you at the hospital. I'm bringing a few reporters. Play along. Let everyone see how good she is to you, holding no grudge."

"She's really trending right now. Building a positive image matters."

Something in me went off. I shot to my feet.

"No way! My sister's like this, and you want her in front of the cameras acting out a show with you?"

Freya leaned into Bernard's shoulder, her voice trembling with hurt.

"I just want to help her. If the media films it, the public will care more about her health. Maybe we can even raise donations for her, help her recover sooner."

"If she looks down on my good intentions, then I won't flatter myself."

Bernard glanced at me, his eyes so dark it was frightening. "You're in this business too, aren't you? Want to see if I can make sure you never work again?"

My sister's eyes flew open.

She knew Bernard did exactly what he said he'd do.

Years ago, a bit-part actress traded a few words with Freya, and by the next day the whole industry had blacklisted her. She still hasn't landed a role since.

"I agree!" My sister's voice was hoarse and dry. "Just leave my sister alone."

Bernard nodded, satisfied, and led Freya out.

Early the next morning the door swung open and seven or eight reporters poured in.

Their lenses were almost shoved into her face, flashes going off nonstop.

She'd just had her dressings changed and was still hooked to the tubes, the harsh light so bright she couldn't open her eyes.

A male reporter pushed a mic toward her mouth.

"Ms. Coleman, we've heard it was your own mistake that caused the fall. Is that true?"

A female reporter shoved to the front. "People are saying you were throwing your weight around on set, that you threw a fit when they tightened the harness. Any truth to that?"

Her lips shook, no words coming out.

She'd only just managed a couple of sips of porridge, and now she was curled up on the bed, like she wanted to hide herself into the wall.

I stood in front of her and told them to get out, but the flashes kept chasing her, catching every bit of how wretched she looked.

Someone knocked over the medicine cup on the nightstand, and water spilled across the bed.

Her legs couldn't move, and the cold liquid seeped slowly under the gauze. She drew herself in tighter, tears sliding down without a sound.

I shouted for a nurse to drive them all out, and when the door finally closed, my sister broke down crying.