The Jilted Heiress In Blood Red

The spotlight focused on the center of the stage. Estella stood there, holding the crystal award for Humanitarian of the Year. Her smile was beatific, her eyes shining with fake humility.

The crowd applauded. Alastair Beaumont beamed with pride. Genevieve nodded in satisfaction.

Harlene stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the circus. Her face was a mask of ice.

"I want to thank my parents," Estella said into the microphone, her voice trembling with emotion. "And my dear sister, Harlene. I know she's struggling right now, but we love her anyway."

The cameras immediately swung to Harlene, expecting tears or a breakdown.

Harlene just rolled her eyes. She turned her back on the stage and walked to the bar.

Genevieve moved through the crowd like a shark, intercepting her. "Your little dance just embarrassed this entire family," she hissed.

Harlene picked up a shot of vodka and threw it back, the burn a welcome distraction. As she set the glass down, a waiter in a crisp white jacket moved to clear it. He leaned in close, his movements fluid and unnoticeable to anyone watching. "Protocol Two engaged, Phoenix," he murmured, his fingers brushing hers. Something cold and metallic slid into her palm. She ignored her mother.

Genevieve grabbed her arm, her nails digging in. "Go to your room. Now. You are not to be seen again tonight."

Harlene pulled her arm away. "This is Estella's party. Are you sure you want to make a scene?"

Genevieve's face tightened. She stepped back, forced to swallow her anger.

Estella descended from the stage, gliding over to them. "Mother, don't be hard on her," she said, her voice loud enough for others to hear. "She's sick."

Then she leaned in close to Harlene. "It's a shame Grandmother isn't here to see this. She would have been so proud of me."

Harlene's breath caught. Her vision tunneled. Mentioning her grandmother was a line in the sand.

Estella pulled back, a satisfied smirk on her face, and walked away to accept more congratulations.

Alastair walked over. He didn't look at Harlene. He didn't speak to her. He just said to Genevieve, "Control the situation."

He walked over to Estella, putting a fatherly hand on her shoulder. The image of them together, the perfect father and daughter, was a knife in Harlene's gut.

She set her empty glass down. She walked into the shadows at the side of the stage, where Estella's award and purse sat unattended.

Harlene didn't touch them. She just stared at the crystal trophy, imagining it shattering into a million pieces.

Suddenly, the side door banged open. Tess Valo strode in, wearing black leather and a scowl. She shoved past a security guard who tried to stop her, her eyes scanning the room until they found Harlene. She marched up to her, her expression grim.

"They're spinning it already," Tess said in a low, urgent voice. "The narrative is that you're having a psychotic break. Dennis is playing the heartbroken fiancé. You need an exit strategy."

Harlene's fingers closed around the object in her hand. The weight of the steel felt like the only real thing in the room. She casually moved her hand to her thigh and slid the small, ornate dagger into the hidden sheath. The metal was cold against her skin.

She looked up, her eyes finding Estella across the room. This time, she wasn't the prey. She was the predator.