The sound of a slap echoed through the stairwell. Liza flexed her stinging hand, her tone calm but sharp. “That does sting a bit—hurts more than slapping you, honestly. No need to send me to the infirmary, though. Knowing you, I’d end up in the afterlife instead.” A tense silence fell over the space. Serena finally reacted, covering her reddened cheek as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Sister… why did you hit me?” “Why?” Liza leaned closer, her voice low and deliberate. “Because you deserved it. You thought you could harm me and walk away unscathed? Think again. You want to kill me? Do you even have what it takes?” Serena’s expression shifted, her pupils dilating as she stammered, “Sister… What are you saying? I—how could I? I didn’t push you! I didn’t know you’d fall down the stairs. I was just as shocked!” Her voice trembled, tears rolling down her cheeks, perfectly portraying a picture of innocence. Just then, Brandon arrived, drawn by the commotion. His eyes widened at the sight of Serena’s tear-streaked face, and he immediately stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. His voice was tender, yet firm, as he asked her if she was okay. Liza’s gaze flickered to the pair, her expression cold. “You knew there was a fruit knife on the staircase. You knew exactly what would happen, and yet you pushed me anyway. Don’t act like you’re innocent. You’ve been pretending in front of me every day. Do you think I’m as blind and foolish as the man standing beside you?” Before anyone could respond, smack! Another slap landed on Serena’s other cheek, sending her stumbling to the ground. “You need to face the consequences of your actions. Trying to take my life deserves more than two slaps, wouldn’t you agree?” Liza said, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. Serena crumpled onto the floor, tears streaming uncontrollably. “I didn’t do anything! Sister, I swear I didn’t!” “Liza!” Brandon finally snapped, his voice filled with anger as he shielded Serena. “What are you trying to do? Look at her! No matter what you think she did, you’re fine now, aren’t you? Why can’t you just let it go? Serena has only ever been kind to you, but you treat her like this? You don’t know how good you have it!” Liza’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “I don’t know how good I have it? Is that what you think?” Her tone turned icy. “Let me tell you something, Brandon. Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean I am. We both know what happened on those stairs. If you’re so righteous, let’s check the surveillance footage, shall we? Let’s see who placed that fruit knife there and whether Serena’s ‘innocent hands’ pushed me.” Brandon shifted uncomfortably but avoided her gaze. “But of course,” Liza continued, her voice laced with bitterness, “you won’t bother with something as inconvenient as evidence. If I’d fallen, been stabbed by that knife, and died on the spot, it wouldn’t matter to you. As long as it’s me, Brandon, you’ll always look the other way.” “That’s not true!” Brandon said, though his voice wavered. “I’m not the monster you think I am.” Liza’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you? In your world, Serena is always pure and kind, while I’m always the villain. Even if she were to kill me, you’d defend her, call it an accident, and blame me for it. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?” She took a step forward, her voice calm but biting. “Serena plays the sweet and innocent victim, but she’s stolen everything from me—my place, my peace, my life. And you? You stand there, willfully blind, defending her while she drags me through hell.” “She always provokes me, time after time. I’m the one who ends up hurt, but somehow, you always rush to defend her,” Liza said, her voice filled with restrained bitterness. “All it takes is a few tears from her, and she’s absolved of everything. And this time? I already know how it’ll go. You’ll spin a story to the public, saying I tried to push Serena down the stairs, but my plan backfired, leaving me injured. Meanwhile, Serena will come out spotless, the innocent victim from start to finish.” Brandon’s mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came out. He glanced at the cold, gleaming fruit knife still upright on the stairwell, a chilling reminder of what could have been. Liza’s words hung in the air, striking a nerve. If she hadn’t been quick enough to dodge, that knife could have ended her life. And if she had died, everything she predicted would have come true. The Sinclair Family would have spun a tale to shield Serena, portraying her as the innocent party. They would claim Liza had malicious intentions, but her plan tragically backfired. In death, Liza would bear the weight of blame, leaving Serena’s reputation untarnished. After all, Serena was the treasured daughter. Liza, in their eyes, was nothing more than an inconvenient presence, a stain on their perfect facade. Her death would even serve a purpose—clearing the Sinclair Family’s conscience and allowing them to move forward without her as a burden. Nearby, Lucy , who had overheard the confrontation, stormed over with fiery indignation. Without hesitation, she struck Liza sharply on the head. “Liza, aren’t you being too harsh? You’re alive, aren’t you? How dare you accuse Serena like this!” Lucy ’s voice rose in anger. “You’re still standing here unharmed while Serena had to endure two slaps from you. Do you have any idea how much her face is worth? Your life doesn’t even compare to her hands and legs!” Serena, ever the actress, bit her lip and lowered her gaze, feigning vulnerability. “Lucy, please stop. My sister isn’t herself right now. She’s just upset. Let her say what she needs to say.” Lucy’s frustration only grew. “Why, Serena? Why let her treat you like this? She doesn’t deserve your patience! I just want her to understand what she’s done—do you know how valuable your face is, Serena?”