“Mom’s right,” Chloe said, leaning against the blood-stained hood of my car with a sickening lack of remorse. “Look at you, Elena. The drab clothes. The tired eyes. You look like a criminal anyway. Who would believe a ‘loser’ like you over a woman like me? Just take the fall. It’s the only useful thing you’ve ever done.”
I looked into my sister’s eyes — the eyes of a predator who thought she had just found a way to kill her own sister and survive — and I felt the girl in me finally die, replaced by a cold, judgmental stone.
Chapter 3: The Trap of Justice
I took a deliberate step back, dislodging Beatrice’s hands from my shoulders as if brushing away dirt. I took a slow, deep breath, and when I exhaled, the wounded girl was gone. The sister seeking approval was gone. In her place stood the Honorable Elena Vance. Family
My posture straightened, adding an inch of height they hadn’t noticed before. My face relaxed, settling into the stoic, unreadable mask I wore on the bench during the sentencing of drug lords and corrupt politicians.
“Okay,” I said. My voice fell into a register they’d never heard before—low, resonant, and clinical. It was a voice meant to fill a courtroom. “If we’re going to do this, we need to get to the bottom of things. The police will be thorough. Any inconsistencies will lead to perjury charges for all of us. Do you understand?”
Beatrice exhaled a sob of relief, clutching her chest. “Thank God. Thank God, you’re finally a team player, Elena.”
“Chloé,” I said, turning to my sister. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.”
Chloé blinked, momentarily surprised by the sudden, icy authority of my tone. “What?”
“I need the facts for the statement,” I said coldly. I began to circle her slowly, a bit like a prosecutor circling a witness. I made sure to stand near the driver’s side rearview mirror, where a pinhole microscope lens was hidden. “Tell me exactly what happened. Where were you? Don’t leave out a single detail.”
