Part 3Dead: Now I’m Their Beloved

"Let go of me!"

"When you listened to Zoey’s lies, when you thought I was targeting her at every turn, did you feel like a worthy heir to the Sterling name?" I sneered. "And now you bring me her leftover soup, pretending to care."

"Ethan, what are you so afraid of?"

"Are you afraid that if I die here, your precious, long-suffering sister will have nightmares?"

"That's not it!" Ethan's face went deathly pale.

"Believe it or not," I said, pressing the shard a little deeper, "if I bleed out here today, the Sterling Industries' stock price will get a big 'surprise' tomorrow morning."

The door opened. Kian, who must have returned at some point, walked in to this exact scene.

Me, a madwoman, with a bleeding wrist and a shard of porcelain, smiling as I faced a horrified Ethan.

Kian's face was grim, his eyes analyzing me like a program on the verge of a fatal error.

Ethan clutched my wrist, shouting at the bodyguards in the hall. "Get a doctor! Now!" He turned to Kian as if grabbing a lifeline. "Kian, don't listen to her! She's lost her mind! Ever since Zoey came back, she's been like this, always hurting herself for attention!"

Kian's brow furrowed. He glanced at my still-bleeding wrist, his voice cold. "She… she almost jumped off a bridge earlier."

"It's just an act!" Ethan insisted. "I know Aria. She's terrified of death. She would never actually do it."

The flicker of doubt in Kian’s eyes vanished, replaced by a self-mocking certainty.

I watched them, the two of them working in concert to define my despair as a pathetic performance, and I started to laugh.

Fine. If a physical death was off the table, I would find another way home.

My fingers went slack. The porcelain shard clattered to the floor.

In the instant Ethan let out a sigh of relief, I moved like lightning, snatching the phone from his pocket.

"Aria, what are you doing?!"

I backed into a corner, my fingers flying across the screen.

His passcode. It was still my birthday.

How ironic.

I opened a live-streaming app, ignoring their wary stares, and pointed the camera at my own pale, blood-streaked face. I quickly typed in a title: Aria Sterling’s Last Words: A Public Funeral.

As I was about to press 'Go Live,' a name flashed in my mind. Leo Cruz. A scholarship student my mother had sponsored, now the most fearless investigative journalist in the city.

Leo, if you're watching, help me one last time.

I hit the button.

"Hello, everyone," I said softly. "My name is Aria."

"Today, I'd like to perform something for you. It's called 'A Solo Funeral.'"

Kian's expression changed completely. He finally understood what I was doing—putting myself on trial in the court of public opinion.

He lunged toward me.

But I was faster.

With my back against the sealed window, I held the phone high above my head.

"Don't come any closer," I said, smiling, waving my bloody wrist in front of the camera. The smile was probably terrifying. "One more step, and I jump."

"Twenty-eighth floor. A live-streamed suicide. That should make the headlines, don't you think?"

"It would add a nice, festive touch to Zoey and Danny's new romance, wouldn't it, Brother?"

Kian froze, his face a mask of fury.

Ethan was frantic. "Aria, what do you want?!"

"I want to prove something."

I turned the camera back to myself, watching the viewer count skyrocket. I spoke each word with chilling clarity. "I, Aria Sterling, adopted daughter of the Sterling family, hereby make my public last will and testament."

"Upon my death, all assets in my name—including the five percent of Sterling Industries' original shares left to me by my parents, as well as all my jewelry and real estate…"

I paused, my gaze sweeping over Ethan's ashen face. "...will be donated, in their entirety, to the state."

"You all think I did this for money, right? Fine." A tear escaped, but I was still smiling. "Then I'll take the things you think I value most, and I'll destroy them, right here, in front of everyone."

"Aria, you're insane!" Ethan yelled. "Mom and Dad left that for you, to protect you!"

"Why wouldn't I dare?" My smile was tragic. "I'm dying anyway, aren't I?"

Just then, the door was thrown open with a violent crash.

Danny Vance, my newly-a-father-to-be ex-fiancé, rushed in, looking like he'd run all the way here.

He was unnervingly calm. He walked toward me, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and held it up.

A hospital diagnosis.

"Severe depression with suicidal tendencies."

Danny's voice was soft. "Aria, you're sick."