Chapter 4

The conference room door slid shut behind him.

Linda Finch, Hawthorne Corp's PR manager, spoke through my earpiece.

"The livestream's about to start. Everyone, clear the shot."

The staff hurried behind the glass wall.

A red light blinked on above the camera.

The viewer count shot past a hundred thousand.

The prepared statement started scrolling across the teleprompter.

I ignored it.

"Hi, I'm Willa Stone.

"About what happened at the engagement party, I'm only going to tell you what I personally experienced."

Outside the door, Linda's face changed.

I stared straight into the camera.

"Brandon Hawthorne took my EpiPen.

"He locked it in a cabinet, then locked me in the lounge."

The chat exploded.

[So it WASN'T a misunderstanding!]

[The Hawthornes said the security footage was edited!]

[Why does she look so pale?]

[Let her rest!]

Linda pounded on the glass.

"Ms. Stone, please stick to the teleprompter."

I ignored her.

"I'm here today because Brandon—"

My throat suddenly tightened.

The words died in my chest.

I looked down.

Red welts were spreading fast across my arms.

The second reaction the doctor warned me about was happening.

Clutching my chest, I stumbled toward the glass door.

"Doctor... get the doctor in here."

Linda froze.

"Ms. Stone, please finish the statement first."

I slammed my palm against the glass.

"I'm having an allergic reaction. My EpiPen..."

Brandon's assistant, Ash Eaton, finally moved.

He rushed to the door with my EpiPen.

But the electronic lock had already engaged.

He swiped his key card twice.

Red light.

"Ms. Finch, Mr. Hawthorne changed the access permissions!"

The second Dr. Evan Carter saw the welts on my arms, his face changed.

"Open the door. Now!

"She could be having another allergic reaction!"

Linda panicked.

"But Mr. Hawthorne said she gets physical symptoms when she's anxious."

"She has a history of severe anaphylaxis!" Dr. Carter ripped the key card from her hand. "Who gave any of you the right to decide she's faking it?"

Linda's hands shook as she called Brandon.

His voice came through the phone, cold and flat.

"Dr. Carter, you saw her test results yesterday. Stress can cause physical symptoms. The more worked up she gets, the worse they'll get."

"This is an allergic reaction, NOT ANXIETY!"

"You have the EpiPen. Use it if she's actually in danger."

"By the time she goes into shock, it could be too late!"

"She's not in shock yet." Brandon spoke slowly, like that settled everything. "Make her finish the statement first.

"If she gets out of this by saying she's sick, she'll pull the same thing every time she has to face something she doesn't want to."

I pressed against the glass and slowly slid to the floor.

The chat blew up.

[She's NOT faking!]

[OPEN THE DOOR!]

[Her EpiPen is literally right there!]

[Who locked her in?!]

[Are we seriously watching someone die on livestream?!]

[Someone call 911!]

Dr. Carter swung a fire extinguisher at the electronic lock.

The glass door shook but held.

Linda finally realized how bad things were and frantically called security to override the lock.

Then footsteps rushed down the hall.

Brandon appeared with Patty tucked protectively against his side.

She merely looked pale, clutching his sleeve.

The second Brandon saw the fire extinguisher in Dr. Carter's hands, his face darkened.

"Who told you to break down the door?"

Dr. Carter pointed at me.

"Ms. Stone is having a severe allergic reaction. Open the door!"

Brandon walked up to the glass.

He stopped when he saw me crumpled on the floor.

I couldn't speak.

I could only lift a shaking hand and point at the EpiPen in Ash's grip.

Brandon stared at me like he was still urging me to keep going.

He wanted me to keep going.

Dr. Carter shoved him aside.

"She can't even speak anymore!"

Brandon grabbed his wrist.

"She had plenty to say on camera. Why can't she speak now that she has to read the statement?"

"Her throat is swelling shut!"

"She's fighting through the fear."

"She'll die if we wait any longer!"

Brandon kept his eyes on me.

"Last time, everyone gave in, so now she thinks collapsing gets her out of anything.

"There are only three lines left.

"Give her two more minutes."

Then all my strength gave out.

My forehead slammed into the glass.

The portable monitor hooked to my sensors screamed.

The camera's red light was still on.

In front of more than a hundred thousand viewers, my heart rate crashed.

Dr. Carter went white.

"She's not breathing!"