The Kiss that Sparked it All

“Listen, Alyssa, I’m sorry, okay?” Mara pressed closer, her voice simmering with frustration as Alyssa cautiously gripped the railing, stepping back.

Alyssa said, “I apologize. But life’s long, and you’ve got plenty ahead of me, unlike me. I’m practically six feet under already. Why not let go of Balfour and find someone who truly loves you?”

Mara’s laughter held a bitter edge, and with a swift, fierce motion, her hand struck Alyssa’s arm. A sharp cry escaped as Alyssa missed her grasp on the banister and tumbled down the stairs.

“Ah-”

The dispute had erupted in a secluded corner, away from prying eyes. As Alyssa fell, her scream was the only sound before a sickening silence took over.

Mara’s hands shook uncontrollably. “You brought this on yourself, so don’t blame me.”

Blood slowly pooled beneath Alyssa’s head, her eyelids fluttering before closing into

unconsciousness.

Mara glanced around, ensuring they were in a blind spot, away from any surveillance, before she hid herself from view.

It was only a matter of minutes before someone discovered the fallen Alyssa.

“My God, what happened here? Someone help! Alyssa’s fallen down the stairs!”

The guests downstairs, who had been enjoying convivial chatter and fine wines, sobere up instantly. “You’ve got to be kidding. Alyssa was just fine, chatting with friends a moment ago.”

Despite their disbelief, they knew no one would joke about such matters. The crowd stirred, clustering around the scene of the accident.

Balfour, who had been upstairs with Ivy, heard the dreadful news and sprang up, his glass shattering unnoticed on the floor.

The sound snapped Ivy out of her daze. Rubbing her foggy head, she said, “Althea, what did you just say? This better not be some sick joke.”

Near tears, Althea urged them, “Please, go down and see for yourselves. The ambulance is on its way. It seems serious.” Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

With no more hesitation, Balfour and Ivy made for the door, Ivy nearly stumbling in her rush. She cursed the drink she’d had that evening; if only she hadn’t indulged, she wouldn’t be so weak-kneed now, unable to even run properly while Balfour was frantic to check on Alyssa.

“Go, check on Granny,” Ivy insisted. “Don’t worry about me.”

Ivy had held onto a sliver of hope that it was all some elaborate ruse by the guests and Alyssa, a surprise of some sort. After all, Alyssa had just visited her room; how could something have gone wrong in mere minutes?

But as she reached the staircase and saw a still figure lying at the bottom, with Balfour kneeling beside them, her hope vanished. The guests parted, giving Ivy a clear path.

“Granny, Granny,” she whispered, her voice a mere breath.

Although the family doctor had administered first aid, dressing the wound on Alyssa’s forehead, they dared not move her before the ambulance arrived. Any further injury could worsen her condition.

Dean knelt beside his wife, his eyes red with regret. Why hadn’t he stayed by her side? He had been about to join her upstairs to check on the kids when an old friend had pulled him aside for a chat. He was so close, yet he had turned away. Why?