I woke up feeling like my chest had been torn apart.
Every heartbeat sent waves of pain through my skull. I tried to lift my hand but even that small movement felt like torture.
"She's waking up! Get the doctor!" a voice called out from somewhere above me.
I forced my eyes open, everything was a blur of white and shadow.
"Where am I?" My voice came out as a whisper.
"Northern Memorial Hospital," the nurse replied, adjusting something on the IV beside me. "You've been unconscious for nearly fourteen hours. Stab wound to the chest, missed your heart by centimeters. You're lucky to be alive."
I tried to swallow. "Who brought me in?”
The nurse nodded toward a corner of the room. "That young lady brought you in. She said she witnessed everything."
I turned my head slightly. A girl, probably in her early twenties with a messy ponytail and concerned eyes, offered a small wave.
"You saved me?" I whispered.
She nodded. "I was at Giovanni's celebrating my graduation. Saw everything. I used to be a lifeguard, so I knew to apply pressure until the ambulance arrived. Then I rode with you here."
"Thank you," I whispered.
"What about my husband? And Tara?" I asked, wincing as I tried to sit up.
The nurse's face darkened. She pulled out her phone and pressed play on a voicemail.
Derek's cold voice filled the room: "This is Derek Montclair. I received your call about Hazel. Do whatever you want with her. She deserves all of this for what she's done to me financially and emotionally. I have nothing more to do with her. Don't call this number again unless she's dead."
My fingers clutched the thin hospital blanket as I processed his words.
Just then, a notification pinged on the young girl’s phone. She frowned, glancing at the screen.
"What is it?" I asked, sensing her discomfort.
"You might not want to see this," she warned, but I snatched the phone from her hands anyway.
There on the screen was an Instagram post. Derek and Tara, tagged at the exact Maldives resort where Derek and I were supposed to have our honeymoon.
Tara was wearing the exact black lace lingerie he'd told me "didn't suit my body type." They were laughing, drinking champagne from the bottle. The caption read: "Finally where we belong. #AlwaysWasMeant2Be."
Another post showed them in our pack's sacred bonding cave—the place where Alpha with their Lunas traditionally consummate their marriages. Derek was holding Tara possessively, his lips against her neck.
"Son of a bitch," I whispered.
"You're about twenty, right?" I asked the girl who'd saved my life.
She nodded, confused.
"You recorded what happened at the restaurant, didn't you?"
Her eyes widened. "I—yes."
Without asking permission, I forwarded the video to myself.
"What are you doing?" the woman asked as I opened my social media account and uploaded the raw footage.
"Getting justice," I replied, watching as the likes and shares started multiplying by the second. The video went viral within minutes.
My phone rang—the police department. They confirmed they'd received multiple reports about the video and were opening an investigation.
An hour later, my phone rang again.
"Ms. Hazel?" the officer's voice sounded strained. "I regret to inform you that the case against Tara has been... dismissed."
"What?" I sat up despite the searing pain. "How is that possible? There's literal video evidence!"
“The footage has been flagged as manipulated. And we've received testimony that you were the aggressor."
The line went dead. I checked social media—the video had vanished from every platform as if it never existed.
That's when the door slammed open.
Derek stood there, his perfectly tailored suit contrasting with the wild rage in his eyes. Tara lurked behind him, her face twisted into a triumphant smile.
"You really thought you could destroy us with that edited video? You must be joking."
"Edited?" I laughed bitterly. "We both know what happened."
"What I know," he snarled, "is that you're going to post an apology video immediately. You'll explain that you doctored the footage because you're unstable and jealous of my relationship with Tara."
"Go to hell."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Perhaps you don't understand the situation. My influence extends to this hospital too. One word from me, and the doctor will administer drugs that will render you genuinely mentally unstable." He leaned closer. "All of this happened because of you. You pushed Tara. You provoked her."
"I won't do it," I said.
Derek grabbed my rescuer by the arm, yanking her from her chair. He pressed his forearm against her throat. "Post the apology or this Good Samaritan will need her own hospital bed."
The young girl's eyes widened in terror.
With shaking hands, I recorded the apology, tears streaming down my face. The moment I posted it, Derek released the girl who collapsed gasping on the floor. He checked my post and nodded with satisfaction.
"Pack your things once you get better," he ordered. "You're coming home with us."
"Us?"
"Tara will be living with us now," he said. "She needs protection from false accusations. And you need to be reminded of your place."
He leaned over, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered: "This is just the beginning of your punishment, Luna Hazel."
