Milan
The first thing I did was cry. It wasn’t because China was dead. It wasn’t because Malcolm was dead. It wasn’t because Warren was dead. I cried because that’s what China would’ve done. That was the difference between surviving and getting caught.
I sat on the floor next to my sister and forced myself to act like her. The tears came more easily than I thought they would.
Maybe I was carrying more grief than I knew. I cried for Mama. I cried for the years I’d lost. I cried for the woman I was before Malcolm decided his life was more important than mine. I cried for the sister China used to be.
When I was done, my face was swollen and wet. That was perfect.
I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror, still wearing the bloody wedding dress.
My hair was a mess. My lip was split. I had a cut across my forearm.
I looked like someone who had survived something awful. That was exactly what I needed. I glanced back at China, now in my dress, soaked in blood. Her eyes were still open.
I walked over and closed her eyes.
I heard voices in the hallway. Someone shouted that the eighth floor was clear. My pulse sped up. I was out of time. I stepped away from China. The door handle turned. Someone knocked.
“Police.”
I stared at the door.
“Ma’am, open the door.”
I didn’t answer.
The knock became harder.
“China?”
That made me pay attention. They thought I was China.
Good. I looked at my sister one last time.
Then I screamed. It wasn’t a pretty scream or something from a movie.
I screamed until my throat hurt. The door opened a few seconds later.
Two officers came in led by an hotel employee and stopped when they saw the room, all the broken glass and blood.
One officer came straight toward me.
“Ma’am.”
I backed away.
“No.”
“China?”
I stared at him, then looked at my sister. My knees gave out, but he caught me before I hit the floor.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
The words came out between sobs.
“I didn’t know she was going to do this.”
The officer put one arm around me.
“Who?”
I pointed toward China.
“My sister.”
He looked at the body. Then back at me.
“Milan?”
I nodded violently.
“She killed Malcolm.”
The officer called for medical personnel. I kept crying.
“She killed Malcolm, and then she came after me.”
The second officer crouched near China.
He checked for a pulse. I already knew what he would find.
Nothing.
“She’s gone,” he said.
The first officer held me tighter. I pressed my face into his shoulder. My whole body shook, and I could feel the adrenaline. The fear was real too. I wasn’t afraid of what I’d done. I was afraid of whether people would believe what I needed them to believe.
Someone placed a blanket around my shoulders. A paramedic examined the cut on my arm. Another asked if I had been stabbed. I shook my head.
“She had a knife.”
“Did she cut you?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer felt safer than telling the truth. Everything was chaotic. People kept coming and going. The questions came too fast. I answered some and ignored others.
Whenever I didn’t know what China would say, I cried harder.
It worked.
Grief let people act in ways that didn’t always make sense. Shock made it easier for them to forget things. I had learned that from watching victims testify.
Eventually, Detective Ramos entered the suite. His eyes moved over the room slowly.
Then he looked at me.
“China.”
I flinched at the name. That part wasn’t acting. He walked closer.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
I shook my head.
“Not right now.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice cracked. That was something China would do. Ramos sat down in the chair across from me.
“She knew I knew.”
Ramos frowned.
“Knew what?”
I let my face change.
“She hated me.”
“Why?”
I stared at him.
“Because of Malcolm.”
Ramos leaned forward.
“Tell me about that.”
I swallowed.
“My sister used to date him.”
“I know.”
“She never forgave us.”
That wasn’t true. Milan hadn’t forgiven anything.
“She came back for the wedding and acted like everything was fine.”
Ramos nodded.
“But it wasn’t.”
I looked toward China's body.
“No.”
“Did she threaten you?”
I hesitated. Then I shook my head.
“Not directly.”
“What happened in this room?”
I stayed quiet and stared at what was left in the room.
“She told me Malcolm was dead because of me.”
Ramos watched carefully.
“She said Warren was dead because of what he did to her.”
“What did Warren do?”
I looked at him.
“He was the detective on her case.”
Ramos nodded.
“And then?”
I looked down at my hands.
“She said I was next.”
That was when the story felt real. Ramos wrote in his notebook. I hated how easily that seemed to convince him.
China once cried on the witness stand and told everyone I was dangerous. Now I was saying the same things about her. Maybe revenge was always about balance.
Ramos kept asking questions. I said China attacked me. I said we fought. I said I grabbed the knife at one point and then lost it. I told him I didn’t know how many times she’d been stabbed. That was true. I had stopped counting.
“Was anyone else in the room?
“No.”
“Did you leave after the fight?”
“No.”
“Why was the door locked?”
“She made sure I couldn’t run.”
“Where is Milan’s phone?”
I looked toward the bed.
“I don’t know.”
China’s phone was still there. Mine was in my room. That could become a problem.
Ramos stood.
“We’re going to need you to come with us for a formal statement.”
I nodded.
“I understand.”
He looked at the paramedic.
“Can she travel?”
The paramedic nodded. I got up slowly. My legs were shaky. For once, I wasn’t faking it.
As I walked through the suite, I glanced at China one last time. Her face was turned a little toward the window. I wondered if anyone would notice something was wrong. I wondered if the first person to see through me would be someone I cared about.
Then I remembered there were hardly any people left. That made it easier. The lobby was packed with guests, police, hotel staff, Malcolm’s family, and China’s bridesmaids.
The moment Sierra saw me, she screamed my name.
“China!”
She ran toward me.
Before anyone could stop her, she wrapped both arms around me. I froze. Sierra sobbed into my shoulder.
“Oh my God.”
I slowly hugged her back. She smelled like champagne and hairspray.
“You’re alive.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Sierra pulled away.
“What happened?”
I started crying again. She looked past me toward the suite. Then her face changed.
“Is Milan…”
I nodded. Sierra covered her mouth. I watched her face twist in shock.
Then she hugged me again. That was the first time I realized I could really go through with it.
Maybe not for long, but long enough. Long enough to leave the hotel.
Long enough to be the woman everyone thought would survive.
Long enough to bury Milan Hart with the others.
I left the hotel with police on all sides. As the doors shut, I caught my reflection in the glass. I nearly smiled, but stopped myself. China wouldn’t smile today.
Not yet.