Chapter 2

Someone was pounding on the front door hard enough to shake the house. The moment I opened it, my fiancé, Edward, shouldered his way in, bringing the cold in with him.

His couture suit, always immaculate, was rumpled, and his tie had been yanked crooked.

"Olivia, what the hell is wrong with you?" He grabbed my wrist, his grip shockingly hard. "Every hacker on the internet is trying to trace that Rh-null donor's IP address! Nobody else knows, but I know it's you!"

His deep-set eyes burned with impatience and anger. "You donate money to build shelters for stray dogs. Why would you turn your back on a dying child?"

My face cold, I pried his fingers off my wrist one by one.

He was a candidate for governor, a man who valued votes and public image more than his own life. He knew I was passionate about charity. He knew nothing about my real past.

"I won't do it. Edward, this is none of your business."

"It's a human life!" His voice rose in disbelief. "Don't you always say you pray for your mother's soul? If you let him die, do you think God will forgive you? And that's Mr. Arthur's son! His group is the only thing funding my campaign right now!"

I raised my hand and slapped him, clean and hard.

The crack of it cut his politician's logic off mid-sentence.

"If I save that child today, then I really will go to Hell." I pointed at the door. "Get out."

Edward pressed a hand to his cheek, which was already swelling red, and looked at me as if I were a monster. "You've completely lost it. Get ready to be torn apart by the whole country!"

He spun around and slammed the door behind him.

The house had been quiet for less than two minutes when my tablet on the coffee table let out a harsh burst of static. The screen jumped on its own. The biggest media account in the city had hacked straight into my device and forced a video call through.

I didn't shut it off. I wanted to see for myself how ugly those two murderers looked now that they'd been driven to the edge.

I switched off my camera and joined with audio only. The screen split in two: one half black, the other showing the chaos outside the emergency room.

The reporter immediately pointed the camera at Arthur.

"Ma'am, millions of people are watching this livestream. You owe the public an explanation." His voice dripped with lofty moral judgment.

Arthur snatched the microphone away from him, his well-preserved face twisted almost beyond recognition.

"I'm the head of the Arthur Group! Get to Holy Cross Hospital right now!" He was so used to giving orders that even when he begged, he sounded like he was doing someone a favor. "Name your price. But if you make my son miss his surgical window, I promise you'll never work anywhere on the East Coast again!"

I looked at the man on the screen, the man whose blood ran in my veins, and couldn't help laughing softly.

"Mr. Arthur, is this how you beg someone to save a life?"

Celia shoved her way into the frame. Her eyes were red and swollen, her makeup a mess, the very picture of a pitiful woman.

"Please, ma'am, don't listen to him. He's just out of his mind with worry!" She dropped to her knees in front of the camera. "I'm a mother. I'm on my knees begging you! My little Luke is only six. Take my life if you want it, just please save him!"

I stared at her. Twenty years ago, she had used that same sweet, false face to drive my mother off a rooftop. And Arthur had stood right beside her, coldly telling everyone my mother was insane.

"What goes around always comes around," I said into the microphone, without a trace of warmth.