---- Chapter 4 The next day, | drove to a high-end art storage facility in North Scottsdale. "Desert Bloom" was in a climate-controlled unit. It was an abstract piece, swirling metal and polished stone, meant to evoke a flower pushing through harsh desert terrain. Hope and resilience. | ran a hand over its cool surface. "I'm getting married. This is a piece | designed for my wedding. I'm here to collect it." The facility manager nodded, processing the release. As | was signing the paperwork, voices echoed in the corridor. Marcus and Chloe. And Chloe's entourage of "friends" from the lounge. Chloe feigned surprise. "Ellie! What are you doing here?" Marcus's gaze was cold. "You're not getting married to anyone. Stop this nonsense." | was tired of his disbelief. "It's true, Marcus." "Enough!" he snapped. "We've heard this lie. You're not fooling anyone." Chloe's eyes fixed on "Desert Bloom." Envy flickered in their depths. "Well, if it's just a 'lie,' Ellie," she said, her voice syrupy sweet, ---- "could | have this sculpture? It's stunning, and Marcus and | will need art for our new home." | stared at her, shocked by her audacity. "No. It's mine." Marcus frowned. "You don't need it if your wedding is a fabrication. Chloe likes it. Let her have it." His dismissiveness stung. This sculpture was a part of me. "No," | repeated, standing firm. Chloe, sensing Marcus's rising anger at my defiance, put a hand on his arm. "Marcus, honey, why don't you wait outside? Let us girls talk. We can sort this out." She gave him a reassuring smile. He hesitated, then nodded curtly and left. The moment he was gone, Chloe's demeanor changed. She approached me, her friends fanning out, surrounding me. A cold dread, a sickening echo of high school hallways, washed over me. | wanted to flee. Chloe yanked my hair, hard. Pain shot through my scalp. Then, a flurry of slaps. Sharp, stinging. Across my face. "Get that sculpture away from her!" Chloe sneered. Her friends lunged. They tried to wrestle the sculpture from my grasp. It wasn't huge, but it was solid, awkward to hold onto while being attacked. In the struggle, | was pushed. My dress tore at the shoulder. | stumbled, falling hard onto the concrete floor. ---- Chloe took out her phone. Snap. Snap. Photos of me, disheveled, humiliated, on the ground. "Such a dramatic scene," she purred. "Perfect for my private collection." Tears of shame and anger pricked my eyes. "Don't..." | whispered. Chloe's phone rang. Marcus. Her voice instantly became sweet, concerned. "Is she giving you the sculpture?" he asked, his voice audible even from her phone. "Yes, darling!" Chloe chirped. "Ellie's being so understanding. She agreed to let me have it." She winked at me, then she and her friends lifted "Desert Bloom" and walked out, laughing. | lay there for a moment, shaken, bruised. A facility attendant rushed over, helped me up. "Are you okay, miss?" | nodded, my voice trembling. "The security footage. Can | get a copy?" He complied. | went straight to the police station. Filed a report for assault and theft. Hours later, back at Marcus's villa, nursing my bruises, my phone rang. The Scottsdale PD. ---- "Ms. Hayes? About your report... it's been withdrawn." "What? Why?" "A Mr. Marcus Thorne, identifying himself as your legal guardian, came in. Said it was all a misunderstanding among young women. A bit of a squabble over an art piece." A misunderstanding. The door to my room opened. Marcus. His face was hard. "A sculpture, Ellie? You called the cops over a sculpture?" Chloe hovered behind him, the picture of wounded innocence. "Ellie, you agreed to give it to me... | don't know why you'd make such a fuss." | looked at Marcus, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. "A sculpture? Marcus, did you even ask to see the footage? Do you know how she took it?" He waved a dismissive hand. "l don't need to. Chloe explained. If you want to stay here, Ellie, you need to get along with Chloe. Stop causing these problems." My eyes were red, burning. "| won't be staying much longer. And | don't need to get along with her. I'm getting married." | turned away, walked to the window, staring out at the meticulously landscaped garden. Late that night, sleep eluded me. | wandered downstairs for a glass of water. The house was silent, dark. | took a wrong turn in the hallway, pushed open a door | thought led to the pantry. ---- It was Marcus's private study. A room I'd never been allowed in, even as a child. My breath caught. There, on a hidden shelf behind a row of architectural books, meticulously preserved under a small glass dome, was a locket: Asmall, antique silver locket. My mother had given it to me. The day after my parents' funeral, I'd tearfully pressed it into Marcus's hand. "Please, Marcus, keep it safe for me. Forever." | was ten, terrified of losing everything. He'd kept it. 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