Chapter 1 - The Fall That Started It All
“IT WAS JUST FOR CONTENT. FALLON, WHY ARE YOU LYING THERE CRYING FOR ATTENTION? GET UP.”
“Get up, Fallon! You're ruining my wedding!”
My mother stood over me in her expensive evening gown, her manicured fingers digging into my arm. I was lying at the bottom of a marble staircase, unable to move my right leg. My pink bridesmaid dress was twisted around a bent metal brace. Every breath sent another wave of pain through my body. And five steps above me, my younger sister Sutton was laughing. Not crying. Not calling for help. Laughing.
I'm Fallon. I'm 34 years old, and eight weeks earlier, I'd suffered a serious accident while inspecting a cargo aircraft. The fall had torn my ACL and fractured my tibia. Surgeons had inserted metal pins to hold the bone together. My orthopedic surgeon had warned me that another bad fall could destroy everything they'd repaired. Sutton knew that. So did my parents. But my mother, Althia, insisted I attend Sutton's destination wedding at an extravagant oceanfront resort. She told me my absence would ruin the bridal party photographs.
So I flew across the country with my crutches, pain medication, and heavy black leg brace. I thought the worst I'd have to endure was another weekend of insults. I was wrong. That morning, Sutton had walked into the bridal suite wearing a silk robe embroidered with the word BRIDE. She spotted my leg resting on a velvet ottoman. Her smile vanished.
“Are you seriously wearing that robotic abomination down the aisle tomorrow?” The makeup artists stopped talking. “It ruins the whole aesthetic,” she snapped. “You look like a construction site.”
I gripped the chair. “I can't remove it, Sutton. My bone is still healing.”
She rolled her eyes. “You always find a way to make everything about you.”
Then Alden, her fiancé, walked in carrying iced coffees. He took one look at my knee and crouched beside me. “How's the pain today, Fallon?” His voice was gentle. “I spoke to the photographer. He's bringing a stool so you won't have to stand too long.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Across the room, Sutton's fingers tightened around her champagne glass. She watched us with an expression I'd known since childhood. Whenever someone showed me kindness, Sutton treated it like something I'd stolen from her. That evening, the wedding planner gathered everyone around the resort's grand marble staircase. A string quartet played beneath enormous crystal chandeliers. Fifty elegantly dressed guests watched as the bridesmaids prepared to descend. I stood near the railing, terrified. My right leg was almost useless. My left leg carried most of my weight. Every marble step looked dangerously slippery. A groomsman offered his arm. I accepted, keeping my wooden crutch close.
Then I noticed our younger cousin Briany standing near a huge floral arrangement. Her phone was pointed directly at the stairs. She was recording. And she kept looking at Sutton. The wedding planner gave the signal. I began descending, one careful step at a time. Halfway down, Sutton suddenly rushed past me. She loudly announced that she needed to adjust some flowers before the photographer started. Then her stiletto heel caught my good ankle. Her shoulder slammed into my upper back. My crutch flew from my hand.
For one terrifying instant, there was nothing beneath me. Then I hit the stone steps. The impact twisted my injured knee beneath the metal brace. I heard a sharp crack. I tumbled the rest of the way down and landed on the marble floor. The music stopped. Someone screamed. A champagne glass shattered. I tried to move. My leg wouldn't respond.
“Somebody call an ambulance!” a woman shouted.
But Sutton threw back her head and laughed. “It's just content! Fallon, why are you crying for attention?”
Guests stared at her in disbelief. My mother rushed forward. For one foolish second, I thought she was going to help me. Instead, she grabbed my arm. “Get up right now,” she hissed. “Alden's parents are watching.”
“Mom, my leg is broken again.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
My father, Stellin, pushed through the crowd. He didn't ask if I was hurt. He shoved a napkin toward my face. “Your sister just bumped you. You're embarrassing her.”
I looked past him. Briany was still holding her phone toward me. Still filming. Then I saw Alden. He stood motionless near the staircase, his face drained of color. He wasn't looking at my injury. He was staring at Sutton. His jaw tightened. Something in his expression changed completely. He had been close enough to see what happened. And apparently, he'd heard something too. Without speaking, he turned away from his bride and walked out through the glass doors.
May you like
Sutton stopped laughing. My father ordered a taxi rather than accompanying me to the hospital. Neither parent came with me. As the cab pulled away, I lay across the back seat, shaking with pain. Then my phone vibrated. An unknown number. One sentence appeared on the screen.
“I saw what she did, and I have proof.”
