Violence.
Lily flew backward toward the terrace railing.
And disappeared over the edge.
I screamed.
Her tiny body struck the decorative barrier and tipped over it.
Then came the sound I will hear for the rest of my life.
A sickening crack against stone.
I vaulted over the railing without thinking and landed below beside her broken body.
Blood pooled beneath her head.
Her arm bent wrong.
She was barely conscious.
“CALL 911!” I screamed upward. “NOW!”
Guests stared down in horror.
And then my mother leaned over the balcony.
“Lower your voice,” she hissed angrily. “You’re humiliating your sister!”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“My daughter is bleeding!”
“She ruined a fifty-thousand-dollar dress!” Vanessa shrieked from above.
My father pointed at Lily with disgust.
“Get up,” he barked at an unconscious eight-year-old child. “Stop pretending for attention.”
I felt something inside me die.
Not break.
Die.
I begged Ethan to call the island medical team.
