Chapter 3

"Stay away from her."

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

So that was it.

"I see."

Mom crossed her arms and scoffed.

"Who are you trying to fool with that pathetic expression? You think I'll feel sorry for you and suddenly claim you as my son?"

I watched the medicine drip steadily through the IV line.

My voice came out dry.

"I never expected you to claim me.

"When I pushed you away fifteen years ago, I never planned on seeing you again."

Her expression darkened immediately.

The disgust in her eyes became almost unbearable.

"Don't bring up those years. If it weren't for your father, I never would have suffered the way I did."

Her jaw tightened.

"His blood runs through you. Sometimes looking at you makes me feel filthy all over again."

I went silent and even slowed my breathing.

She had every right to hate me.

If that man hadn't paid traffickers to bring her into that mountain settlement, she could have lived the privileged, brilliant life she had been born for.

I was the only living proof of what had been done to her.

"If you don't want to see me," I said quietly, "I can—"

"Evan Hayes!"

For some reason, my calm only seemed to make her angrier.

Her chest rose and fell.

"Stop acting like you're above all this. Look at you. You show up looking half-starved and broke, and you expect me to believe you don't want money?

"Name your price. Take the money, leave this hospital, and stop appearing in front of me."

I stared blankly at the ceiling.

Her words were cruel.

But I understood her better than she realized.

This was just the only way she knew to shove money into my hands without admitting she wanted me to use it for treatment.

"I don't want your money. I'll be gone in a few days."

Mom stared at me for a long moment before storming out in frustration.

The door slammed behind her.

I closed my eyes as the dull ache in my stomach returned.

That afternoon, a nurse sent me to the treatment room at the end of the hall for a dressing change.

On my way back, I carried my few belongings in a plastic bag.

A young man approached from the other direction.

Designer coat. Limited-edition bag. The kind of confidence that came from never having been told no.

He stopped directly in front of me and looked me up and down with open contempt.

"You're Evan Hayes?"

I looked at him.

"And you are?"

He gave a cold laugh and lifted his chin.

"Adrian. I'm Vanessa Sterling's son."

Then he leaned closer.

"I'm warning you now. Don't even dream about forcing your way into the Sterling family. My mother will never accept you."

His expression hardened.

"She fought too hard to escape what happened to her. I won't let you come back and drag her into that nightmare again."

I looked at the way he stood there, bristling like a guard dog protecting her.

My chest ached.

But underneath that ache was relief.

Good.

Mom had a son now who loved her without reservation.

She didn't need the child she'd left behind in the mountains.

"Okay."

I stepped around him.

Adrian apparently took my answer as a brush-off. He followed, irritation written all over his face.

Then, as we passed each other in the middle of the hallway, he slammed his shoulder into me.

I was too weak to catch myself.

I hit the floor hard.

The plastic bag slipped from my hand, and a jagged edge from something inside sliced across the back of my hand.

Blood welled immediately.

Adrian looked down at me and smiled with satisfaction.

"That's what you get for refusing to take a hint."

He crouched and lowered his voice.

"Know your place, Evan. And don't think you can use illness to emotionally blackmail my mother."

"Adrian. Why are you shouting in a hospital?"

Mom strode toward us.

Her gaze moved from him to me, then narrowed.

Adrian's expression changed instantly.

He grabbed her arm and put on a wounded look.

"Mom, I saw him hanging around outside your room. I thought he might be planning something."

He pointed at me.

"I only asked what he was doing. He lost his balance on his own, and now he's trying to make it look like I pushed him."

Mom didn't respond.

Her eyes dropped to the blood running down my hand.

Her brow tightened.

I used the wall to drag myself upright and kept my head down.

I didn't want to put her in the middle.

Adrian squeezed her arm harder, clearly pleased by my silence.

Then Mom's gaze lifted past me.

There was a security camera mounted directly above the hallway.

She immediately pulled her arm out of Adrian's grip.

"You're causing a scene in a hospital. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?"

She pointed toward me.

"You're not a child anymore, Adrian. Stop playing childish games and apologize."

His eyes widened.

"Mom, I'm your son! You're taking his side?"

Her voice sharpened.

Her eyes, however, never quite left my bleeding hand.

"I'm taking the side of what actually happened. Apologize."