Chapter 3
Madison's revenge came faster than I expected.
Three days after that morning, she sent me a text: [Meet me at the old Riverside Mill. 2 PM. Come alone, or Ethan gets hurt.]
Laughably transparent, but I had to admire her directness. She was finally ready to drop the mask.
Perfect. Let's dance, bitch.
The abandoned mill was ideal for her purposes—isolated, crumbling, plenty of opportunities for "accidents." She probably planned to push me into the river and claim I'd jumped from guilt and despair.
Poor Madison. She had no idea she was walking straight into my trap.
I forwarded her message to Ethan with a simple note: [She's finally making her move. Give me thirty minutes, then come find me.]
The mill stood like a rotting skeleton against the gray Detroit sky. Another casualty of the city's slow death, perfect for Madison's little drama.
She was waiting on the third floor, silhouetted against broken windows. Designer everything, even for murder. Some habits never die.
"Well, well," she purred as I approached. "Our little jailbird actually showed up."
"You said you'd hurt Ethan if I didn't."
"Oh, please." Madison laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "You think I give a shit about that pathetic loser? He's just a useful tool."
I let surprise flicker across my face. "You don't love him?"
"Love him?" She snorted. "Ethan is nothing but a climbing social worker who got lucky. I needed someone inside the prosecutor's office, and he was desperate enough to be useful."
Perfect. I filed that confession away for later use.
"Then why are you with him?"
Madison's smile turned predatory. "Because it destroys you, doesn't it? Watching him choose me over you?" She began circling me like a shark scenting blood. "Besides, I needed a mole in the prosecutor's office, and he was stupid enough to be useful."
"You know what the best part was? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs while Dylan held me. Watching your pathetic friend send you to rot."
"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked softly. "I never did anything to you."
"You existed," Madison snarled. "You convinced everyone you mattered. Even my perfect brother threw away everything for some trailer trash bitch."
Her mask was completely gone now, revealing the twisted creature underneath.
"And Ethan was supposed to be mine. But no, he was too busy sniffing after Dylan's sloppy seconds."
I stepped backward, toward the gaping hole where a window used to be. "Madison, you're scaring me."
"Good." She pulled something from her purse—a syringe filled with clear liquid. "Heroin. Enough to kill a horse. When they find your body in the river, everyone will assume the poor ex-con couldn't handle life outside."
She advanced slowly, savoring my terror. "Needle marks, traces in your bloodstream. Just another tragic overdose."
"Please," I whispered, backing closer to the edge. "I'll disappear. You'll never see me again."
"Too late." Madison lunged forward with the syringe.
I stumbled backward, crying out as my foot caught on a loose board. Madison's eyes lit up with triumph as I teetered on the edge.
"Goodbye, Aria."
She shoved me hard.
I fell exactly as I'd planned—catching the fire escape ladder two floors down, the impact jarring but not fatal. Above me, Madison's laughter echoed through the empty building.
"Oops," she called down. "Guess the junkie couldn't handle the withdrawal after all."
I lay still on the rusted platform, playing dead while I waited for the cavalry to arrive.
Ethan's voice reached me first—"Aria! ARIA!"—followed by the sound of running footsteps on the stairs.
"Thank God you got my message," Madison's voice carried clearly from above. "I tried to talk her down, but she was completely hysterical. She just jumped."
"Where is she?" Ethan's voice was raw with panic.
"She fell. I'm so sorry, Ethan. I tried to save her, but—"
"You're lying."
The cold certainty in Ethan's voice made me smile. My broken little lawyer was finally growing a spine.
"Excuse me?" Madison's shock was audible.
"I said you're lying. Aria sent me your text message, you psychotic bitch."
"That's impossible. I never—"
"'Come alone or Ethan gets hurt,'" he quoted. "Ring any bells?"
The silence stretched for a heartbeat. Then Madison's voice turned venomous. "So what if I did? She got what she deserved. They all got what they deserved."
"All?"
Madison's laugh was bitter now. "Oh, Ethan, you really are as naive as I thought."
"Aria told me you were there that night. Watching the building burn."
"So what if I was?" Her voice rose defensively.
"She said you smiled. Called them trash." Ethan's voice was getting stronger, more confident. "She said you looked... satisfied."
"Satisfied?" Madison's composure was cracking. "I was fucking ecstatic!"
"Why? What did those people ever do to you?"
"They existed!" She screamed. "Those twelve pieces of trash in that building. That pathetic grandmother Dylan's so-called girlfriend cried over. Every single cockroach in that fire trap." Her laughter turned unhinged. "You want to know the truth, Ethan? I lit that match myself. Watched that building burn with all those vermin inside, and it was beautiful."
I closed my eyes, drinking in the sound of Ethan's sharp intake of breath. Five years I'd waited to hear someone else speak the truth.
"You're insane," Ethan whispered.
"I'm a Crawford. We take what we want and destroy what threatens us. Dylan was mine first—my brother, my protector, my everything. Then that bitch showed up and poisoned his mind with her sob stories and fake innocence."
"Madison, you need help—"
"I don't need anything!" Her voice cracked like a whip. "Especially not from some bottom-feeding nobody who thinks he can play in my league."
I heard the sound of a struggle, then Madison screaming: "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"
Time for my entrance.
I hauled myself up onto the third floor, limping dramatically and clutching my ribs. Both of them froze when they saw me—Ethan with relief flooding his features, Madison with pure rage.
"You," she hissed. "You should be dead."
"Disappointed?" I gasped, playing up the injury. "Sorry to ruin your perfect murder."
Ethan rushed to my side, his hands gentle as he checked for injuries. "Jesus, Aria. Are you okay? We need to get you to a hospital."
"I'm fine," I said, leaning into his warmth. "Just some bruises."
Madison watched us with naked hatred. "This isn't over."
"Yeah, it is." Ethan pulled out his phone. "I'm calling the police. Madison, you're under arrest for attempted murder, arson, and twelve counts of—"
"You think they'll believe you?" Madison laughed, but there was hysteria creeping into her voice. "I'm a Crawford. You're nothing. She's nothing. Do you really think anyone will choose your word over mine?"
Ethan's smile was cold as winter. "They might believe the recording I've been making since I got here."
Madison's face went sheet white. "What recording?"
He held up his phone, the recording app clearly visible. "Every word, Madison. Every single confession about the fire, about framing Aria, about trying to kill her today."
For the first time since I'd known her, Madison looked genuinely afraid.
"You can't," she whispered. "You can't do this to me."
"Watch me."
As Ethan dialed 911, I caught Madison's eye and smiled. She saw something in that smile that made her take a step backward.
"This is just the beginning," I mouthed silently.
Her scream of rage echoed through the empty mill as the sirens began to wail in the distance.
Phase one complete. Now it was time to visit Dylan.