Chapter 2
The Hamptons estate was supposed to be our sanctuary, a place where the Sterling family could escape Manhattan's suffocating pace. But like everything else in my marriage, this sprawling beachfront property had become another stage for Sarah's manipulations and Marcus's blind devotion.
I sat on the terrace, a book open but unread in my lap, watching the Atlantic waves crash against the private shoreline. Two weeks had passed since my procedure at Mount Sinai—since I'd lost my sixth child and donated bone marrow to save Sarah. My body was still healing, inside and out, but Marcus had insisted we come to the Hamptons for the weekend. Sarah needed "fresh air" for her recovery.
The autumn breeze carried a chill that made me pull my cashmere wrap tighter around my shoulders. From my vantage point, I could see Sarah lounging by the infinity pool, her thin frame draped across a chaise lounge despite the October temperature being too cold for swimwear. She'd been watching me, I realized, her eyes following my movements with that calculating gaze I'd come to recognize.
I returned to my book, determined to ignore her presence. That's when I heard the splash and the scream.
"Help! Marcus! MARCUS! SHE PUSHED ME!"
My head snapped up to see Sarah thrashing in the deep end of the pool, her arms flailing dramatically as she screamed accusations between gasps. I froze, confusion and disbelief paralyzing me. I hadn't moved from my seat, hadn't been anywhere near the pool.
The terrace doors burst open as Marcus charged outside, his face contorted with fury. His eyes locked on Sarah struggling in the water, then darted to me, instantly assigning blame without question.
"What have you done?" he roared, rushing past me to the pool's edge.
"I didn't—I was sitting here the whole time," I stammered, rising to my feet. "Marcus, check the security cameras. I never left this spot!"
He ignored me completely, reaching to pull Sarah from the water. She clung to him, her body shaking with exaggerated sobs as she buried her face against his chest.
"She pushed me, Marcus," she whimpered. "She waited until you went inside and then she pushed me. She knows I'm weak from the treatment."
Marcus's eyes were glacial as he turned to me, Sarah still wrapped in his protective embrace. "The cameras don't matter. I know what you're capable of."
The injustice of it burned through me. "Marcus, that's impossible. I was sitting right here! You can see from the house—"
"Enough!" His voice cut through the air like a whip. "You want to play games with my sister's life? Fine. Let's see how you like the water."
A chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air ran through me. "What?"
"Get in." He pointed to the pool, his expression unrecognizable. This wasn't my husband anymore—this was Sarah's puppet, dancing to her strings. "Get in the pool, Isabella."
"Marcus, it's freezing—"
"GET IN!" he roared, causing even Sarah to flinch in his arms.
Slowly, I removed my wrap and stepped toward the pool in my silk blouse and linen pants. My heart hammered against my ribs as I descended the steps into the frigid water. The cold stole my breath instantly.
"All the way in," Marcus commanded. "Swim laps. Ten of them."
"I can't swim well—you know that," I pleaded, the water now at my waist, my clothes heavy and clinging.
"Should have thought of that before pushing someone who's fighting for her life," he said coldly.
I saw Sarah's face over his shoulder, the ghost of a satisfied smile playing at her lips before she buried her face against him again with a theatrical sob.
The water enveloped me completely as I pushed off, my limbs already stiffening with cold. I struggled through the first lap, then the second, my waterlogged clothes dragging me down, my lungs burning. By the third lap, my muscles were cramping painfully. Marcus watched from the edge, unmoved by my obvious distress, while Sarah had mysteriously recovered enough to sit up and observe my punishment.
Halfway through the fourth lap, my strength gave out. My head slipped beneath the surface, water flooding my nose and mouth. I flailed, panic consuming me as I sank deeper, the world above distorting through the chlorinated blue.
The last thing I saw before darkness crept in was Marcus, still standing at the pool's edge, making no move to save me.