Part 2Don’t Mess With a Falcone

Back at my apartment, I immediately had my bodyguards pack up all my belongings and send them back to the Falcone family estate.

Preston had a key to this apartment. This time, I couldn't give them any chance to get their hands on my personal items and use them as evidence to frame me again.

Lexi always had sticky fingers.

Staring at the empty closet, the knot of unease in my stomach didn't loosen.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

With Preston's knack for faking evidence, just sending my clothes away wouldn't be enough to clear my name completely.

I needed the most perfect, irrefutable alibi.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the cold water, full blast.

Ice-cold water poured down, drenching me completely.

I shivered uncontrollably, my teeth chattering.

But I didn't stop. I stood under the freezing spray for a full thirty minutes.

Then, still in my soaking wet clothes, I walked out onto the balcony.

The late autumn New York wind cut like a knife.

I stood in that wind for two full hours.

I told myself that to avoid my fate from the last life, I had to be more ruthless than them. Even to myself.

The next morning, a splitting headache woke me up.

Just as I'd planned, I was running a high fever.

The thermometer was pushing 104°F, and every breath was a burning pain.

My consciousness fading, I pressed the emergency call button by my bed.

The family bodyguards burst through the door.

I was rushed to the top-tier private hospital owned by the Falcone family.

The diagnosis was severe pneumonia and a persistent high fever. I was rushed straight to the ICU.

Three days later, I finally woke up in a regular ward.

My body was weak, but my mind was crystal clear.

I leaned back against the pillows and looked at the 24/7 high-definition security camera in the corner of the room. A cold, satisfied smile touched my lips.

This was my perfect alibi.

No matter how clever Preston was, he couldn't accuse someone who'd been unconscious for three days of murder, could he?

That evening, the doctor finally allowed me to get out of bed.

With a bodyguard by my side, I draped a coat over my shoulders and went to the hospital garden for some fresh air.

Just then, the bodyguard's phone rang. I nodded at him, and he stepped away to take the call so as not to disturb me.

In that moment, a figure suddenly rushed toward me and shoved me hard.

Still weak from the fever, I had no strength and was thrown to the ground. My hand scraped against the pavement, a searing pain shooting through my palm.

I looked up. It was one of my classmates, Tom, a guy who was good friends with Preston.

"You murderer! How dare you hide here and live it up?!"

Tom pointed a finger at my nose, his voice cracking with rage.

"The police are looking for you all over the city! You think you can escape justice by hiding in a hospital?!"

I frowned. "I didn't do anything. Why would the police be after me?"

"You threw someone off a roof and you're playing innocent?! You're a monster, Vanessa!"

Tom's roar echoed through the quiet garden, drawing the attention of a few other patients' families nearby.