Soon, the pair reached the upper balcony overlooking the reception hall below.
The space opened wide before them, flanked by sweeping double grand staircases that curved down toward the marble floors beneath.
From above, the reception hall looked like a stage already set for performance.
The luncheon guests had gathered below in glittering clusters.
Socialites.
Photographers.
Reporters.
Camera crews.
Every polished face turned toward the charity showcase Chiara had prepared, but none seemed interested in the event itself — they were only quietly waiting for the next scandal to enter the room.
Corinna stopped at the top of the staircase. A vicious smile flickered across her face before she turned toward Aren.
"Come on, my lady," Corinna urged, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Even your walking is so incredibly pathetic. Quick! This way."
She turned and began descending first, leading the way down the grand staircase. Aren followed a moment later, her face calm as she stepped into the open view of the crowd below.
’She’s being very strange.’
’She definitely dislikes me.’
’Why did she come looking for me?’
The thoughts lingered only briefly before the shape of Corinna’s behavior began to register.
Corinna was not walking naturally. She was slowing her pace on purpose, maintaining only a single step between them as they descended.
Aren noticed it, though she made no comment.
Corinna, meanwhile, was an absolute wreck.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat so loud she thought it might burst through her chest, and cold sweat had already gathered at her hairline beneath the perfect styling.
’Okay.’
’Okay.’
’Don’t break your nose.’
’Don’t break your teeth.’
’Chiara promised the bag.’
She counted every descending step internally as though marching toward execution.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Her breath came shallower.
Sweat gathered against her palms.
The marble stairs seemed to stretch forever beneath her feet.
Finally...
Corinna stopped dead in her tracks.
She spun around with a wild, frantic expression on her face, both arms flinging outward.
Her scream erupted into the air, rebounding through the hall in a raw, desperate wave.
"NO— NO! PLEASE, I BEG YOU! LADY ARIANA, DON’T PUSH ME!"
The cry was so loud, so horrifyingly real that the entire reception hall below froze in a single breath.
Hundreds of heads snapped upward toward the grand staircase in unified horror.
At that exact moment—
Corinna threw herself backward.
Her body slammed into the step. Hard enough that a raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"
Corinna rolled.
Then rolled again.
And rolled farther.
The staircase was absurdly long, and her body bounced violently from one polished marble step to the next, as though she had become nothing more than a broken ragdoll hurled by fate itself.
Her expensive dress twisted and tore in the descent, fabric catching and dragging as she tumbled downward with terrifying speed.
From the hall below, horrified gasps erupted at once.
"Oh my God!"
"Lady Corinna—"
"Someone catch her!"
"Stop her rolling!"
Camera flashes exploded in blinding bursts, dying to capture the horrific moment that might make the front page the next day.
Reporters shouted over each other and started scribbling furiously in their notebooks even as the disaster unfolded before them.
Meanwhile, at the very top of the staircase, Aren stood perfectly still.
Her eyes remained fixed on Corinna’s tumbling body below.
Calm.
Unblinking.
Entirely emotionless.
To everyone watching from below, the image was damning. Aren looked now exactly like a woman coldly admiring the crime she had just committed.
By the time Corinna finally slammed against the bottom step, the reception hall had dissolved into chaos.
"Someone help her!"
"Call an ambulance!"
Chiara appeared almost instantly. She rushed toward her sister with perfectly crafted horror already painted across her face.
"Corinna!" she screamed. "Help! Somebody help!"
Guests crowded around the Leone sisters at once. Several women crouched beside Corinna while hotel staff scrambled into motion.
Chiara waited.
One second.
Two.
Five.
Then, suddenly, she looked upward.
Her tear-streaked face twisted beautifully into a mask of righteous fury as her trembling finger shot straight toward Aren standing above.
"Ariana Lombardi!" Chiara shrieked. "How could you do something so cruel?!"


’Children.’
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