Secrets Of The Broken Genius Bride

Allie sprinted to the edge of the street outside the main gates of Parsons, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She scanned the busy avenue frantically, but the black Cadillac SUV was already gone. She slapped a hand against her forehead. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. That tablet didn't just have her competition sketches; it held a hidden folder containing her mother's real medical logs. If anyone in the Deleon household found it, she was dead. She turned toward a nearby bench, reaching into her bag for her phone to call the driver. "Well, look what the cat dragged in." The shrill, venomous voice sliced through the air behind her. Allie's spine went rigid. She slowly turned around. Brittanie Copeland, her older half-sister, stood there draped in a seasonal Chanel haute couture jacket, flanked by three sneering girls from wealthy families. Brittanie stepped right up to Allie, intentionally raising her voice so the passing students would hear. "Look at you, dressed like a homeless person," Brittanie mocked, her eyes flashing with malice. "You're embarrassing the Copeland family, and you're definitely embarrassing the Deleons. Is the cripple not giving you an allowance?" Several design students stopped on the sidewalk, pointing and whispering. Everyone knew the rumors about the brutal prenup and the gold-digging bride. Allie felt the heat of humiliation creeping up her neck, but she refused to give Brittanie the satisfaction. "My life is none of your business, Brittanie," Allie said coldly. She turned on her heel, trying to walk around the group. Brittanie shot a look at one of her minions. The girl immediately stepped sideways, physically blocking Allie's path. Before Allie could demand they move, a male voice called out from the edge of the crowd. "Allie!" Jerald Burke pushed his way through the whispering students. He was wearing a casual designer suit, his face etched with deep concern. Jerald was a former suitor from her past. He was wealthy, healthy, and completely oblivious to the fact that Brittanie had anonymously texted him Allie's location just to use him as a weapon. He rushed up to Allie, his eyes full of pain. "Why did you do it, Allie? Why did you sell yourself to a paralyzed tyrant for money? I would have given you anything!" Allie's face drained of color. "Shut up, Jerald," she hissed, her voice trembling with panic. "You don't know what you're talking about. Leave me alone. You are going to ruin me." Her cold rejection triggered Jerald's bruised ego. His emotions spiraled out of control. He lunged forward and grabbed Allie's wrist with a crushing grip, trying to physically drag her away from the crowd. "I'm getting you out of here!" "Let go of me!" Allie screamed, thrashing wildly. Her cheap heels slipped on the cobblestone pavement. The pain in her wrist was blinding. Standing a few feet away, Brittanie's lips curled into a wicked smile. She smoothly pulled her phone from her purse, aimed the high-definition camera at them, and held down the burst-capture button. Seeing Allie resist so fiercely, Jerald yanked her arm hard. Using his weight advantage, he pulled the off-balance Allie directly into his chest. For a split second, she was plastered against him. From the angle of the bystanders, it looked exactly like a desperate, passionate embrace between two star-crossed lovers. Brittanie's phone silently snapped dozens of perfect, highly deceptive photos. Half a second later, Allie's survival instinct kicked in. She shoved both hands against Jerald's chest with every ounce of strength she had. Her fingernails dug in so hard they tore through the fabric of his expensive shirt. She broke free, stumbling backward, her chest heaving. "If you ever touch me again, I will call campus security!" she screamed, pointing a shaking finger directly at his face. Jerald froze, stunned by the sheer violence of her rejection. He took a step back, looking hurt and betrayed. "You've changed," he muttered, before turning and walking away. The surrounding crowd of rich kids erupted into cruel laughter. Someone yelled, "Mr. Deleon's head is glowing green!" A wave of intense nausea hit Allie. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Brittanie lowering her phone. The realization hit her like a freight train. It was a setup. "Give me that phone! Delete those pictures!" Allie lunged at Brittanie. Before she could reach her, two of Brittanie's minions shoved Allie hard in the chest. Allie flew backward and crashed onto the rough pavement. The skin on her palms tore open, bleeding instantly, but she didn't feel the pain. She only felt a suffocating, paralyzing terror of what was coming. Brittanie stood over her, looking down with pure triumph. She mouthed the words, You are dead, before turning and strutting away with her entourage. The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Allie sitting alone on the cold ground. Her hands shook violently as she pulled out her phone to call Vance. She had to explain. She had to warn them. She pressed the power button. The screen flashed the low battery icon and instantly went black. It was dead. A low, vibrating hum of a massive engine echoed from the end of the street. Allie slowly lifted her head. Her blood ran ice cold. Parked in the shadows directly across the street, idling like a mechanical beast waiting to strike, was the familiar, terrifying shape of the armored Maybach.