CHAPTER THREE: KAYA Macherson pov

The room was clean and well-furnished.

Too furnished to be a hospital room.

It had that cold luxury that screamed power. I guessed it was meant for top clients—people like Damon Moretti.

He sat up the moment I stepped in, eyes sharp, a gun pointed straight at me.

Typical Damon.

All cold, controlled, and heartless.

Look at you. Fat and ugly. Do you think you deserve to be my wife?

The memory stabbed me like a knife.

He didn’t do love. He didn’t do emotions.

But this time, I’d melt that ice in his veins.

I’d make him love me—make him beg for me—and then I’d destroy him in the most gut-punching way possible.

That’s what he’d get for marrying my sister, abandoning me in the hospital, and laughing at my pain.

“Who are you?” he demanded, still pointing the gun at me.

His gaze flickered down my body before he caught himself and looked away sharply.

He asked again, his voice sharper.

“Wrong room, Damon,” I said calmly and turned to leave.

I heard the drip line snap and footsteps behind me. Before I could open the door, his hand slammed it shut.

He caged me between his body and the door—his breath warm against my ear.

The old Kaya would have melted instantly.

Being this close to him used to be my dream.

But now… all I felt was anger.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, voice dangerously low.

He wanted to see me scared. I wasn’t giving him that satisfaction.

I raised a finger and slowly traced it down his nose.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

He caught my hand roughly. “Who are you? What do you want?”

I tapped his forehead lightly. “You must’ve hit your head. I said this was the wrong room. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

And I walked out.

When the door shut behind me, I pressed a hand against my chest. My heart was racing.

I’d just spoken to Damon Moretti.

I smiled faintly.

That should leave an impression.

Now he’d think about me, wonder who I was—and soon enough, I’d be all over his thoughts.

I exhaled slowly.

My heart shouldn’t be beating this fast. But I couldn’t help remembering those deep blue eyes, the way they cut straight into my soul.

His dark hair was messy, his face still unfairly handsome.

I needed to calm down.

The first time I met him—really met him—I’d been a mess, running into his room in my pajamas.

He’d pointed a gun at me, and I’d bolted out in seconds.

This time, I did better.

Just then, nurses started rushing into the next room.

“Father,” I whispered, panic crawling through me.

I rushed in. The doctor glanced up. “Are you family?”

I nodded quickly.

“Please sign here,” he said, handing me a form. My hand trembled as I scribbled my signature.

Then they made me wait outside.

I tried to act like I didn’t care. I shouldn’t care. But a small part of me still did.

What if he didn’t make it?

He was still my father—no matter how cruel he’d been.

I forced myself to remember.

How he’d thrown me out after Cecilia’s wedding, calling me worthless.

How he’d said I wasn’t really his daughter.

How he’d refused to pay for my surgery when I was dying.

I sat in the waiting area for hours, lost in thought, planning my next move.

This was my second chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

Then my mind drifted back to the morning of Cecilia’s wedding.

James had snuck into the house. I’d been drunk and half-conscious, but I’d heard them talking.

Cecilia had whispered something that chilled me even now:

“That thing belongs to Damon—even though it’s yours. And that secret dies with us.”

Now, it made sense.

Cecilia was pregnant.

Pregnant with James’s child.

And she’d pinned it on Damon.

That’s how she had him wrapped around her finger.

A sudden gunshot ripped through the hospital.

People screamed.

Chaos exploded around me.

Four masked men burst through the hallway, guns raised.

I froze. My heart pounded.

One of them pointed his weapon directly at me.

Without thinking, I ran.

Straight into room 209.

The one person there who could save me—

Damon.

He didn’t look happy to see me.

“You again,” he muttered, annoyed, almost irritated.

Another gunshot echoed. I ducked under his bed, trembling.

The door slammed open.

The masked men stormed in.

“Where is she?” one of them barked.

My heart stopped.

Why were they after me?

Who were these people?