Chapter 3

When I stepped out through the gates of Hedo Lounge, my body was shaking uncontrollably. Fever rippled through my limbs like silent static.

My steps were unsteady, each footfall a gamble. I could barely see the road ahead, and before I could register what was happening, I stumbled headfirst into someone's chest.

A clean, sharp scent filled my nose—disinfectant. It was clinical, cold, but oddly grounding. It sobered me up in an instant.

I mumbled an apology, trying to pull away from the man's trench coat, my eyes dropping to his wrist. The watch he wore looked oddly familiar. A rare edition, limited worldwide. Even Charles couldn't get his hands on one.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," I said again.

I knew who he was. I didn't look up. Didn't need to.

"Your hand is bleeding," he said, his voice low, textured with something like exhaustion.

"It's nothing."

I turned to leave. I didn't want to linger.

Anyone connected to Charles—I wanted no part of them.

But just as I stepped down the first stair, I was lifted off the ground, arms suddenly cinched around my waist from behind.

I gasped.

Our eyes met.

Tyler Ford's face was right there—elegant, distant, and cold as ever. Half a foot away.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and close, as if the air between us had shrunk to a single tight thread. I could almost hear the frantic beat of his heart.

"As a doctor," he said, voice even but with an edge beneath it, "I can't just watch someone sick and do nothing."

I gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Strange. You never seemed so compassionate before. I remember the last time, when Charles made me jump into the pool to fetch that necklace, you just stood at the edge and watched. Not a word. Not a flicker of concern."

His eyes cooled.

"Mindy, that time you deserved it. You were willing. You made that choice. Who could possibly save someone who doesn't want saving?"

His voice hardened, but his steps didn't falter.

Something in me flickered and went dim for a moment.

I didn't fully snap out of it until he placed me inside his car and the warm air from the vents began to thaw the chill from my bones.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

No answer. He started the car, silent and focused.

"You're not going back in? Won't they be looking for you?"

I couldn't stop talking. The fever blurred my brain, but my tongue kept moving, unmoored and restless.

Tyler glanced at me like he was looking at a particularly slow-witted patient.

"If you hadn't pulled your IV and run out of the hospital," he said, "I wouldn't be here tonight in the first place."

I didn't understand what he meant.

My head felt like it was about to crack open.

And then—nothing.

The last thing I remembered was sinking into something soft and warm, like falling through a cotton cloud.

When I woke up, I was in a strange bed. No one else was in the room. I was fully dressed.

On the nightstand, beneath a thermos, was a small note.

I picked it up.

The handwriting was confident and bold, sweeping across the page.

"I've got surgery today. Drink the medicine in the thermos. There's porridge in the kitchen. Heat it up yourself."

I stared at the note for a while, expressionless.

I couldn't figure out what Tyler was really trying to do.

If someone said he liked me, I wouldn't believe it for a second.

Everyone in the Kingsford circle knew he had someone else, a woman he'd loved quietly for years, someone he couldn't have.

And me?

I'd only known him for a year. We hadn't exchanged ten sentences in all that time.

Whatever his reason, it didn't matter.

I wouldn't have to care for much longer.

Just two more weeks.

Yesterday had been the final day of my agreement with the Mankin family.

I was free.