Troy was right there. In the video. They were in Milan. He held shopping bags in both hands, trailing behind Bianca while she giggled at the camera.
“My brother’s been spoiling me rotten,” she said to her viewers, blowing a kiss toward the screen. “Best brother in the world.”
I watched as he handed her a drink, then smiled faintly when she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
I couldn’t breathe. I was bleeding out in a hospital room, alone.
And they were shopping.
Together. A scream clawed its way up my throat before I could stop it. I hurled the phone across the room. It bounced off the wall and hit the floor with a crack.
The nurse rushed in. “Miss Thalia, are you alright?”
I wasn’t.
But I’d never been.
“I want to report an assault,” I told her. “Now. Call the police.”
A few minutes later, a young officer walked in, clipboard in hand. He looked bored.
“Miss Thalia Green?”
“Yes.”
“You’re reporting an assault by… Miss Bianca Green?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me. Something in his eyes shifted.
Then he sighed.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ve been instructed not to move forward with any charges filed by you against Miss Bianca Green.”