"What are you doing?" I stared at her, terrified.
A twisted smile crossed Vanessa's face. Instead of answering, she yanked my hand toward her chest, then threw herself backward toward the lake.
"Ah, no, Anthea!" she shrieked, tumbling over the low railing into the water.
Splash. Water erupted. I stood frozen, staring at my hand suspended in midair, brain empty.
"Anthea, what the fuck are you doing?" A furious voice rang out.
I whipped around. Silas was charging toward me, Martha behind him. He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, like Martha had dragged him here in a hurry. The way he looked at me now was worse than ever.
"Silas," I called his name instinctively, wanting to explain. "It wasn't me..."
"Help! Uh—hel—" Vanessa thrashed in the water.
Silas acted like he hadn't heard me.
He blew past me like a gust of wind. No hesitation. In this freezing weather, he jumped straight into the lake. Water rose to his waist. He scooped up the struggling Vanessa and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, shivering.
"Silas, the water's so cold..." she sobbed pitifully.
"I've got you. You're okay." Silas's voice was low and solid, soothing. "I'm taking you to the hospital."
Watching Silas hold her so tenderly sent sharp pains through mychest. He carried Vanessa out of the lake in long strides, water soaking his clothes, but he didn't seem to feel the cold. All he cared about was getting her to the manor gates.
"Silas." I finally found my voice, hurrying after him. "It's not what you think. She fell in herself. I didn't push her!"
Silas stopped. For a second, I thought he might believe me. But he didn't turn around. He just waved a hand back.
"Stop her. Take her inside."
Two bodyguards in black appeared from nowhere, blocking me like a wall of muscle.
"Miss Carter, please go back," one said.
"No! Let me through. I need to explain!" I tried to shove past them. They didn't budge.
Through the gap between them, I watched Silas carry Vanessa away. My heart felt like it was being carved up with a knife. The pain was a thousand times, ten thousand times worse than the burn on my hand.
Vanessa rested against Silas's shoulder, wet hair covering half her face. But from an angle Silas couldn't see, she lifted her head. Those eyes that should have been full of fear were ice-cold and mocking. She looked at me, broken and pathetic, and her lips slowly curved into a smile.
I don't remember how I got back to my room. I just remember stumbling through the halls like a ghost.
No doctor. No ointment. No one came to ask, "What happened to your hand?"
I turned on the tap and let cold water rush over the red, blistered skin. Water mixed with tears and disappeared down the drain.
For the next three days,Silas didn't come back to the manor. I learned from the maids' whispers that Vanessa was in a private hospital. And Silas was there with her. Around the clock.
I went to the garden every day. The white dahlias were the onlything that eased the knot in my chest. Just looking at them let me breathe.
Afternoon. A convoy of black cars rolled into the manor, engines rumbling, shattering the quiet.
I stood on the second-floor balcony and watched Silas step out of the first car. He looked tired, but it didn't dull the sharpness he carried. He walked around to the other side, opened the door, and helped Vanessa out like a gentleman.
Vanessa clung to his arm, practically glued to him.
The sight still hurt, but I'd learned to go numb. I started to turn away, not wanting to watch them anymore.
