Mag-log inI understand now.The crowd. The signs. The matching shirts. The organized, coordinated energy of people who showed up at a specific hospital at a specific time to confront a specific person.They're Mia Stone's fans.I should have guessed. The language on the signs, the terminology, the specific vocabulary of celebrity fandom: "Heavenly Empress," "get out of the entertainment industry," "home wrecker." These aren't random strangers with opinions. These are devoted followers who have been told, online, in real time, that the woman they love is being wronged by the woman standing in front of them.I can argue with three people. Maybe five.I cannot argue with ten women who are screaming and throwing water bottles and swinging promotional boards like weapons.The first bottle hits the ground beside my foot. The second grazes my shoulder. The promotional board catches the edge of my arm and the plastic cuts a thin line a
The journalists are still outside.I can see them through the hospital's ground-floor windows, a wall of cameras and microphones and the specific, hungry energy of people who have just been handed the story of the year. By tomorrow morning, every outlet in Chicago will have the same headline: Mia Stone, rooftop, gunman, fall. Liam Hart, hero. And somewhere in the fine print, my name. The wife who stood behind the perimeter and watched the whole thing.George arrives thirty minutes later.He comes through the hospital entrance at a pace that's almost a run, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his hair off-center, dust on his shoes from a terminal floor. I've never seen George look anything other than composed. Right now he looks terrified."How is she? Where is she?"His voice breaks on the last word. His eyes are wet."Neurology," Liam says. "Third floor. She's sedated."George doesn't wait for more. He pushes thro
His hand leaves Mia's neck.For one second, everything holds. The man is at the edge. Mia is free. Liam is two feet away. The gun is pointed at the ground. The crowd behind the perimeter is holding its breath.Then the man's face changes.He sees something. Some expression on Mia's face, some micro-second flicker that tells him what he already suspected. She's not going to agree. She was never going to agree. The proposal, the marriage, the fantasy he's been building in his head for months, none of it was real. It was his. Only his."You lied to me!" he screams, lunging forward. "She would never agree! She would never!"His hand grabs Mia's wrist.The gun comes up.Liam moves first.He steps forward and knocks the gun out of the man's grip. It clatters across the concrete, spinning toward the far wall. The man stumbles, his balance gone, his feet sliding on the smooth rooftop surface.
Mia's screaming pushes the man over the edge. Not the physical edge, the other one. The one inside his head, the line between desperation and something far more dangerous.His face changes. The soft, pleading expression hardens into something else. Something ugly. He raises the gun and points it directly at Liam."Bingbing," he says, his voice suddenly tender, almost gentle, "do you see? The man you spent your youth loving married someone else. He betrayed you. Shall I avenge you? Shall I put him down? Wouldn't that make you happy?"Mia's eyes go red with rage."If you touch him," she says, each word precise, each word a blade, "I will never forgive you. Not in this life. Not in any life after. I will haunt you until you die of fear."The man's brow furrows."You're still protecting him?" His voice cracks. "He abandoned you, Bingbing. He chose another woman. And you still love him? Why can't you look at me? I love you
"You lunatic! Let me go!"Mia pulls against his grip with everything she has. Her nails dig into his wrist. Her body twists. For a second it looks like she might break free.She doesn't.The man reacts fast. His arm tightens around her throat and he takes two steps backward, toward the edge. Mia's heel catches on the concrete and she stumbles. For one sickening half-second she hangs in the air with nothing below her but twelve stories of empty space and the Chicago skyline.She screams.The sound cuts through the rooftop like something sharp. It's not a composed sound. Not the controlled, measured Mia Stone that the world knows. It's raw. Animal. The sound of a person who has just understood, in the most physical way possible, what it feels like to almost fall.Nobody moves.The police haven't arrived. The negotiation team is still assembling. The security guards maintain their semicircle, but none of them
Every face in the room goes pale.A cluster of journalists grabs their cameras and runs. The host is already on her phone. The crew is scrambling, pulling up news feeds, trying to piece together what's happening from fragments and push notifications.Liam's expression hardens into something I haven't seen in weeks. Not anger. Something more focused. The face of a man who has identified a problem and is already moving toward it."I'm going up there," he says."I'm coming too."He doesn't argue. We leave Prism Tower and cross the four blocks to Meridian Tower in under three minutes. Liam drives. I sit beside him and watch his jaw work and say nothing because nothing I could say would change whatever is about to happen.---The rooftop of Meridian Tower is chaos.A crowd has formed along the edge, pressed together in a tight circle that tightens further every time someone new pushes through. Securit
2:00 AM.The exclusive VIP lounge of "Nocturne," the most sought-after bar in town.Three men lounged around a glass table, their eyes fixed on Liam Hart, who sat in a single-seater sofa, silent and brooding. The dim, golden glow of the room barely softened the sharp tension in the air.Preston Whi
Julian leaned back against the plush armchair, swirling the glass of bourbon in his hand. "You know, Allie, if something’s bothering you, you should just say it. Maybe I can help."Allie exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "You can’t help with this, Julian. No one can."Julian clicked his ton
Allie’s heart pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears like a war drum. But she didn’t stop. If anything, she moved faster, dragging Julian Ford along with her.Behind them, Liam Hart’s voice cut through the air like a blade.“Allie?”She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.Julian shot her
Allie Brooks stood frozen, staring at the chaos around her.The two eggs aimed at Julian Ford’s head hadn’t cracked; instead, they fell onto the table with a loud thud.Allie reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing over one of the eggs. “Ice?” she muttered in disbelief. A cold chill ran down h







