It had been raining all day. Not the kind of rain that washed anything clean, just cold, relentless sheets that sank straight through your coat and into your bones. The whole city felt heavy. Like it was mourning something I couldn’t name. Maybe me.
My shoes made that awful wet squelch as I pushed through the hospital’s revolving doors. The fluorescent lights inside hit me like a slap. I didn’t bother shaking off the water. What was the point? I’d been soaked for days, by rain, by worry, by everything I couldn’t fix.
The elevator groaned on its way up. Sixth floor. Oncology.
I could still smell the burnt diner coffee on my sleeves, even after the double shift. My lower back throbbed, but I was past noticing pain. Or maybe I’d just gotten good at pretending it didn’t matter.
Lily was asleep when I got there. The blanket barely covered her. Her IV beeped steadily like it had learned how to breathe for her. Her hair was thinner this week, wisps stuck to her forehead like faded dreams.
I leaned down and kissed her temple. “I’m here, baby,” I whispered. “Always.”
She didn’t move.
I stood there for a minute, just watching. Making sure her chest still rose and fell. Like if I stared hard enough, she’d stay.
When I finally stepped out, the nurse at the desk offered a tired smile. “Rough night?”
I gave a small nod. “Same as always.”
That wasn’t true. Tonight was worse. The rent was due. I’d opened the hospital bill earlier, five red warning stamps across the top like they were shouting at me. I’d applied for two more jobs during my lunch break, anything that didn’t require a degree or dignity. Still nothing.
I dropped into the waiting room chair and pulled out my phone. The lock screen photo popped up: Lily and me at Coney Island last summer. She looked like herself then, sunburned, alive. She’d screamed so loud on the roller coaster the whole boardwalk turned.
That girl was vanishing right in front of me.
“Miss Reynolds?”
The voice came out of nowhere. Crisp. Male. Definitely not a nurse.
I turned and there he was. Tall. Black coat. Dry shoes. His whole presence didn’t belong in this hallway, like someone had cut him out of a magazine and pasted him here.
“Yes?” I said slowly.
He held out a card, gloved hand steady. “Mark Evans. I represent Mr. Damian Kingsley.”
I blinked. My brain tried to catch up. “The CEO?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped. Damian Kingsley wasn’t just some CEO. He was the CEO. Ruthless. Rich. On every Forbes list, every headline. Cold as the stock market and twice as unfeeling.
I stared at the card. Didn’t read it. “Why would someone like him want to talk to me?”
Mark’s expression didn’t change. “Mr. Kingsley believes you might be the answer to a mutual problem.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Is this a scam?”
“No, Miss Reynolds.” His voice was calm and practiced. Too calm. “Mr. Kingsley is prepared to make you an offer that would cover your sister’s medical treatment. In full.”
Time stopped.
I looked toward Lily’s room. That steady beeping. Her pale skin under the hospital lights. The folder with numbers we couldn’t afford sitting on the nightstand.
“What kind of offer?”
Mark looked down the hallway. “He prefers to discuss details in person.”
My heart was pounding. Hard.
This didn’t make sense. None of it did.
But when you’re drowning, even a hand from the devil feels like a rescue.
“If I say yes… then what?” I asked, my voice low.
Mark’s lips twitched, maybe sympathy, maybe something else. “Then your life changes. Permanently.”
I clutched the card like it was a lifeline. My fingers shook.
“Come with me, Miss Reynolds,” he said. “Mr. Kingsley is waiting.”
Damian’s POVThe penthouse hadn’t changed.The curtains still hung the way she arranged them that morning we overslept. The tea mug she abandoned on the marble counter still held the ghost of mint. And the silence—God, the silence—had her shape carved into it.But she was gone.And I had let her go.The clock on the wall blinked 3:17 a.m. I hadn’t slept. I couldn’t. I kept waiting to hear her voice in the hallway, hear Lily’s soft laugh from the bedroom, feel the shift in air that always came before Ava walked into the room. But there was nothing. Just the hum of the city far below and the ache behind my ribs.I checked my phone again. Nothing. Again.No call.No message.No trace.She didn’t take security. Not a driver. Not even a bag that made sense. Just Lily, a few clothes, and the quietest goodbye I’d ever heard.Maybe that’s what hurt the most. That she didn’t scream. Didn’t fight.She just… left.Because I gave her a reason to.My fingers hovered over Naomi’s name more than onc
Ava’s POVThe sun was rising, but it didn’t feel like a beginning.It felt like exposure.Light spilling over everything I couldn’t outrun.The headlines. The whispers. The worst part wasn’t what he said.It was how steady his voice was when he said it.Like it didn’t cost him a thing to doubt me.Like all the moments we shared, everything we survived could be erased with one look at aheadline.Lily stirred beside me on the train, her head tucked under my chin.So small. So still.She felt light in my arms, but heavy in all the ways that mattered.Too fragile to be out of a hospital bed.Too fragile to be caught in the middle of any of this.But I carried her anyway.Because no one else would.Because I couldn’t leave her behind, even if that meant leaving everything else.I kept one arm wrapped around her, like maybe I could still protect her from the noise, the world, the wreckage.But my other hand wouldn’t stop shaking.My phone screen glowed in my lap—still open to Naomi’s messa
Ava’s POVThe hospital was quiet at midnight, but my phone wasn’t.I stared at Naomi’s last message. Helena leaked the contract footage. Ethan just reshared it. They’re pinning everything on you. Even Lily.Delete.That should’ve been the end of it.Out of sight, out of mind.Nice and neat. No noise.But it wasn’t just my phone that buzzed.It was the hallway… the nurses’ station—The way strangers started glancing twice, like the walls had whispered my name before I even walked past.The air shifted too.Sharper. Colder.Not just antiseptic, but… off. Like something had just happened. or was about to.I bent down, kissed Lily’s forehead.Let it linger a second longer than I meant to.“Back soon,” I whispered.And maybe I even believed it when I said it.But I wasn’t five steps away when I saw the flash.Not just on a screen…In the eyes.In a way, every single thing around me seemed to hold its breath.“Ms. Reynolds! Is it true you faked your sister’s illness for media sympathy?”I f
Ava’s POVThe antiseptic sting in the air reminded me of every night I’d spent in hospitals, except tonight, the blood on the sheets wasn’t Lily’s. It was Damian’s.He’d walked in alone. No security, no suit, no press disguise. Just a streak of blood down his arm and something desperate in his eyes. He’d looked at me—only me—before sliding against the white wall outside Lily’s ICU room and saying nothing.I should’ve told him to leave.Instead, I told the nurse, “I’ve got it.”She blinked, uncertain. “You’re…?”“His wife.”Her mouth pressed into a tight line. She handed me the tray of gauze, thread, and antiseptic. No questions asked.“You need to let me look at that,” I said, quietly.Damian didn’t respond.So I turned. “Damian. Sit.”He hesitated, and then just like that night on the rooftop in Rome, the one he still pretended didn’t happen he listened. He lowered himself onto the stiff couch, his movements tight, the fabric of his shirt sticking to torn skin.Naomi had stuffed a me
They were trying to take my sister.And I would burn the world down before I let them.The streets blurred as I ran. Rome didn’t care what I was fighting for. The lights didn’t flicker in fear, the cars didn’t pause for grief. But my body did. Just enough to remember how much I hadn’t done.I hadn’t visited her. I hadn’t checked the files. I hadn’t listened when Andreas warned me.The hospital came into view, cold and tall against the sky. I burst through the sliding doors, past the front desk, barely hearing someone shout behind me.Elevator? Too slow.I took the stairs.Three at a time, almost falling once, barely breathing by the time I hit the ICU floor. My palm slammed into the double doors, and—A guard blocked Lily’s room.No badge I recognized. No kindness in his face. Just static silence.“I’m her sister,” I snapped. “Let me through.”He didn’t flinch.I opened my mouth again—but a voice beat me to it.“She’s listed on the new emergency file. You’ll want to double-check.”I t
Ava’s POVI didn’t move for a long time.Just stood there in the penthouse, lights off, my reflection barely visible in the glass. Romeoutside, blurred and bright, like the city refused to care that everything was falling apartinside this apartment.Because this wasn’t just smoke and mirrors anymore.It was war.And I was already losing.Naomi’s voice cut through the silence like a crack splitting glass.“Guys. You need to see this.”There was no one else here. Just me. And her. And the air between us felt too still.I turned slowly. She stood by the kitchen island, pale, phone in one hand, laptop glowingcold light across her face.“Helena just called an emergency board vote,” she said. “Effective immediately. She’snominating herself as interim CEO.”I blinked. “She can’t.”“She can,” Naomi said tightly. “If she has enough voting shares. And she does.”“No,” I breathed. “She had… what, seven percent?”“She had seven percent.” Naomi’s voice was sharper now, her fingers flying acros