The darkness was heavy, pulling me down into a quiet, painless abyss.
But a voice anchored me. A voice I hadn't heard in five years.
"If her heart stops again, I will bury this entire hospital."
I forced my heavy eyelids open. Through the blinding clinical lights, a face came into focus.
Sharp jawline. Cold, obsidian eyes. A bespoke suit that screamed ruthless power.
Hunter.
Hunter Vanguard. The ruthless billionaire tycoon my grandfather had ordered me to marry five years ago.
Back then, I was a naive girl who believed in true love. I ran away from my arranged marriage, gave up my inheritance, and hid my true identity to marry a struggling, brilliant medical resident named Vaughn.
Look where "true love" got me. Bleeding out on a gurney, discarded like trash by the man I gave up my empire for.
"You..." I rasped, tasting copper on my tongue.
Hunter looked down at me. His expression was a mask of ice, but his hand—gripping mine—was trembling slightly.
"You ran away from me to marry a peasant," Hunter whispered, his voice dangerously low. "And he let you die on a filthy floor. Are you done playing house, Carmela?"
A single tear, the very last one I would ever shed, slid down my temple.
"I'm done," I breathed. "Take me home."
I didn't wake up in Greenville General.
I woke up three days later in a private, heavily guarded fortress.
My wounds had healed into jagged, pink scars. My heart, however, had turned to absolute stone.
Hunter stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the master suite. He handed me a sleek tablet.
"Vaughn thinks you died in the prison infirmary," Hunter said, not looking at me. "He signed the death certificate himself. He didn't even claim your body."
I stared at the screen.
Vaughn was hosting a massive charity gala tonight. The 'Greenville Medical Innovation Gala'.
He was using the patents I created. He was using the sympathy of being a "widowed" husband. And he was officially announcing Jade as his new "co-director."
"He's also been begging my syndicate for a billion-dollar investment to save his over-leveraged hospital network," Hunter added, finally turning to face me. "He thinks the Vanguard Empire is his savior."
I set the tablet down on the silk sheets.
"The document I tricked him into signing in the kitchen," I said, my voice hollow.
"Processed," Hunter confirmed. "He owns nothing. But he doesn't know it yet."
I threw off the blankets and stood up. My legs were weak, but my spine was steel.
"Hunter," I said, meeting his dark, intense eyes. "Five years ago, I rejected your ring."
"You did."
"If I put it on tonight... will you help me burn his world to the ground?"
Hunter closed the distance between us. He reached into his tailored pocket, pulling out the massive, flawless diamond ring I had left on a vanity table five years ago.
He slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
"I will burn the world, Carmela," Hunter whispered, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You just have to point."
Vaughn’s POV
The freezing rain lashed violently against the windshield of my new Bentley.
I leaned back into the heated leather seats, a smug, triumphant smile on my face. Beside me, Jade was giggling, resting a hand lovingly on her slightly rounded belly.
Life was absolutely perfect.
Carmela was dead. I had signed her death certificate myself, feeling nothing but relief. I had her patents, my freedom, and the perfect tragic backstory.
Best of all, my assistant had just called to confirm that the Vanguard Syndicate had approved my billion-dollar investment.
"I can't wait for the Mediterranean, Vaughn," Jade purred, kissing my cheek. "A month-long luxury cruise... just the three of us. We finally won."
"We did," I smiled, navigating the slick, winding coastal highway toward the harbor. "Everything is ours now."
Suddenly, a blinding set of high beams pierced the freezing rain.
A deafening air horn shattered the night. A massive, eighteen-wheeler freight truck had lost control on the black ice, hydroplaning directly across the median.
It was coming right at us.
"Vaughn!" Jade screamed.
I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.
CRASH.
The sound of twisting metal and shattering glass was deafening. The Bentley was crushed against the concrete barrier, the entire front dashboard caving in instantly.
When I opened my eyes, the agony was blinding. My legs were completely pinned beneath the crushed engine block.
I could feel warm blood pouring from my stomach, freezing the moment it touched the shattered glass on my lap.
Beside me, Jade was slumped over the dashboard, completely unresponsive. Blood was pooling beneath her on the leather seat.
Panic seized my throat. I knew exactly what this much blood loss meant. If I didn't get into surgery in the next ten minutes, I was going to die. And Jade would lose the baby.
With trembling, blood-slicked fingers, I dug my phone out of my shattered console. I dialed the emergency dispatch for Greenville General. I needed my trauma team. I needed my helicopter.
The line rang. Once. Twice.
Click.
"Dispatch! This is President Vaughn!" I screamed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "I'm on the coastal highway! A truck hit us! I'm pinned and bleeding out! My fiancée is pregnant! Send the medevac chopper immediately!"
Silence hung on the line.
Then, a man's voice spoke. It was a cold, unfamiliar voice.
"I cannot do that, sir."
"What?!" I shrieked, the freezing wind whipping through the shattered windows. "I am the President of this hospital! Override the orders! We are dying!"
"You don't own this hospital anymore, Mr. Vaughn," the man replied smoothly. "The asset forfeiture was finalized an hour ago. You are no longer authorized to use hospital resources."
“What are you saying? Did you hear me—”
"I'm sorry, Dr. Vaughn," the dispatcher said, his voice dripping with absolute, merciless ice. "But the new owner of Greenville General has grounded the helicopter."
Beep. Beep. Beep.
