Danae's eyelids fluttered open.
Blinding, artificial sunlight poured through a large window, stabbing at her retinas. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised a heavy, trembling hand to block the glare.
She was lying in a high-end hospital bed. A clear IV tube snaked into the back of her left hand, pumping warm fluid into her veins.
A man in a white coat, Dr. Cromwell, stepped into her line of sight. He clicked a penlight, shining it into her pupils.
The door to the private room swung open.
Kellan Rhodes strolled in. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit, his posture radiating arrogant wealth.
He flicked his wrist, adjusting his expensive cufflinks. He nodded at the doctor. "Leave us."
Dr. Cromwell hurried out, pulling the door shut.
Kellan pulled a leather chair to the edge of the bed and sat down. "I'm Kellan Rhodes. Adrian's biggest headache on Wall Street."
Danae's throat was raw. "Where am I?"
"I've been tracking Adrian's private security for months," Kellan said smoothly. "I knew the moment his lawyer walked into that delivery room that you were marked for disposal. My team was stationed near the Long Island coast when you went into the water. We fished you out of the surf."
Danae stared at his face. She searched his jawline. Smooth skin. No scar. Her brow furrowed. "Wait," she rasped, her throat burning. "The man in the water... the one who pulled me under and dragged me up. He had a deep, jagged scar running down his jaw. You don't have a scar. Who really pulled me out?"
Kellan's eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, an unreadable shadow crossing his face. "You were drowning and hallucinating from severe hypothermia and blood loss," he deflected smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. "My private security contractor pulled you out. He's not here."
Danae's instincts screamed that he was lying, or omitting something crucial, but the pounding in her skull made it impossible to push further.
Kellan pulled an iPad from his jacket. He tapped the screen and held it up for her to see.
Red text covered the screen. Bank accounts frozen. Credit lines terminated.
"Adrian's board wants you erased," Kellan said, his voice dropping to a serious octave. "If you stay in the States, you won't survive the week. They will make sure of it."
Danae closed her eyes. The memory of the lawyer in the delivery room crashed over her. She reached down and gripped the edge of the white blanket, her knuckles turning white.
"I can offer you a ghost identity," Kellan said softly. "A European passport. A spot in a premier medical fellowship in Zurich. But you have to cut the cord completely."
Danae opened her eyes. The grief was gone, replaced by a cold, hardened shell.
Kellan slid a sleek black leather folder across the bedspread. "Your credentials. Zurich Medical Institute, with a co-appointment at the Langford Research Institute here in Manhattan." He tapped the embossed logo on the top sheet. "The fellowship requires cross-border data access, so they set you up with a remote research clearance at Langford. You'll hold a digital authorization profile in their system—for database queries, reagent orders, that sort of thing. I'd advise you never to use it unless absolutely necessary. Any digital footprint on American soil is a risk."
Danae picked up the folder. She flipped it open. Inside was a Swiss passport, a Zurich Medical Institute faculty ID, and a separate plastic card stamped with the Langford Research Institute insignia and a barcode. The name on every document read: Dr. Elena Davis.
"This clearance," Danae said, her voice still hoarse. "Is it active now?"
"It goes live the moment you start your fellowship," Kellan said. "But remember—Adrian's people monitor everything. Don't log in. Don't order so much as a box of pipette tips. You're a ghost. Ghosts leave no paper trail."
Danae closed the folder. "Caleb," she said. Her voice cracked on the name. "My brother. Mount Sinai. Long-term respiratory care."
"Already handled," Kellan said. "Anonymous trust. Untraceable. His bills will keep getting paid. Adrian's people won't look—a boy on a ventilator isn't a threat to them."
Danae nodded. She didn't let herself linger on it. If she stayed, she was dead. If she was dead, Caleb was alone forever. Alive and away. That was the only way to save him.
Kellan reached into his inner pocket. He handed her a heavy gold fountain pen and a single sheet of blank, cream-colored stationery.
Danae took the pen. She didn't hesitate. She pressed the nib to the paper and wrote a three-line suicide note, her handwriting sharp and jagged.
She dropped the pen. She reached for her left hand and grabbed the massive diamond wedding ring on her fourth finger.
She yanked it over her knuckle, the metal scraping her skin, and slammed it down onto the center of the paper.
Kellan smiled. He snapped his fingers.
The door opened. An assistant walked in carrying a garment bag and a small leather pouch.
"Your new EU passport," the assistant said, setting the pouch on the tray.
Danae reached over and ripped the IV needle out of her hand. A drop of blood welled up, but she ignored it. She pushed the blankets off and stood on shaky legs.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in a sleek, black trench coat. She slid oversized dark sunglasses over her face, hiding her hollow eyes.
Kellan escorted her down a private elevator into an underground parking garage. They climbed into the back of a bulletproof black SUV.
The car sped through the morning traffic, crossing state lines until it pulled onto a private tarmac in New Jersey.
A sleek Gulfstream jet sat idling on the runway, its engines whining. There were no commercial logos on the tail.
Danae stepped out of the SUV. The cold wind whipped the hem of her trench coat around her legs.
She walked up the metal stairs of the jet. At the top, she stopped.
She turned her head, looking back at the grey, smog-choked skyline of Manhattan in the distance. She dug her fingernails into her palms until the skin nearly broke.
I will come back, she promised the city. And I will burn his empire to the ground.
Kellan stood by the SUV, raising a hand in a mock salute.
Danae turned her back on him and stepped into the cabin. The heavy door sealed shut behind her.
The jet engines roared, pressing her deep into the leather seat as the plane tore down the runway and launched into the sky.
