The door pushed open. Colby walked in. He looked perfect. His navy suit wasn't wrinkled. His hair was neatly styled. He didn't look like a man whose girlfriend just survived a hit-and-run. He looked like a man walking into a board meeting.

In his right hand, he held a small, robin’s-egg blue box. Tiffany’s.

He pulled a plastic chair to the side of my bed and sat down. He didn’t ask how I felt. He didn’t look at the dark purple bruises blooming on my arms. He just looked at my face.

“Evie,” he said smoothly. “We need to talk.”

I didn’t say a word. I just watched him. My heartbeat was flat and steady on the monitor beside me.

He set the blue box on the edge of my mattress and flipped the lid open. A large diamond caught the harsh fluorescent light. It sparkled brightly. It looked incredibly out of place next to my plastic IV tubes and blood-stained gown.

“Marry me,” Colby said. His voice was calm. It didn’t tremble with emotion or fear.

I stared at the ring. Then I looked into his eyes. They were completely flat. There was no love in them. Just a calculated need.

“Thalia’s condition took a turn,” he continued. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s failing, Evie. She needs a transplant right now. I know you’re a match. If you give her your kidney, I will make sure you have the best medical team in the world. I’ll marry you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

He said it like a business deal. Like he was offering me a generous severance package. Trade a piece of my body for a ring. Trade my health for his guilt.

My chest didn’t ache anymore. The bubbles of excitement I used to feel whenever he looked at me were dead. I felt nothing but a cold, hard hollow inside my ribs. Eight years of loving him turned to ash in a matter of seconds.

“No,” I said. My voice was raspy, but it didn't shake.

Colby frowned. A tiny crease appeared between his brows. He looked genuinely confused. “Evie, be reasonable. You only need one kidney to live. Thalia has none. I’m offering you everything you’ve always wanted.”

“I said no, Colby.” I turned my head away and looked at the blank white wall. “We are done. Take your ring and get out.”

He let out a short, frustrated breath. He stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. He looked down at me like I was a stubborn child throwing a tantrum.

“You’re in shock from the accident. You aren’t thinking straight,” he said firmly. “I’m going to leave this here.”

He picked up the blue box and placed it on the metal bedside table. It made a sharp click against the steel.

“I’ll give you some time to calm down,” he added. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

His heavy footsteps echoed as he walked out. The door clicked shut behind him. I didn't turn my head. I didn't touch the ring. I just closed my eyes and breathed in the sharp smell of bleach.

An hour later, the door swung open again. It hit the wall with a loud thud.

Jasmine stormed into the room. Her trench coat was soaked with rain. Her dark hair stuck to her wet cheeks. She rushed straight to my bed, her eyes scanning the bandages, the IV, the monitors.

“Evie,” she breathed. Her hands hovered over me, afraid to touch my bruised skin. “The hospital called me. I came straight from the office.”

“I’m okay, Jas,” I whispered.

Jasmine let out a shaky breath and sat in the chair Colby had just left. Then, her eyes fell on the metal table. She saw the little blue box. The lid was still open. The diamond stared back at her.

She looked from the ring to my face. Her dark eyes narrowed. She knew me too well. She saw the dead, empty look in my eyes.

“What did he do?” Jasmine asked. Her voice dropped an octave.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper. “He asked Dr. Hale if he could harvest my kidney for Thalia.”

Jasmine froze. Her whole body went completely still.

“Dr. Hale said no,” I continued, my voice flat. “So Colby came in here. He gave me that ring. He said if I gave Thalia my kidney, he would marry me and take care of me forever.”

Jasmine didn’t gasp. She didn’t cry. She just stared at the blank wall. I watched her hands slowly curl into tight fists on her lap. Her knuckles turned stark white. The skin around her mouth tightened until her lips were a thin, hard line.

She reached out and gently held my unbruised hand. Her grip was warm and fiercely strong.

With her free hand, she pulled her phone from her wet coat pocket. She unlocked the screen and dialed a number. She put the phone to her ear.

“Sean,” Jasmine said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm. It was the voice of a woman drawing a weapon. “Drop whatever case you’re working on right now. We need everything you can find on Thalia Guzman. London, New York, everywhere. I want her completely destroyed.”

She hung up the phone and looked back at me. Her eyes burned with a fierce, protective fire.

“You’re done with him, right?” she asked quietly.

“I’m done,” I said.

Jasmine nodded once. “Good. Now we fight.”

The morning light was gray and cold. It spilled across my stiff hospital bed. The rain had stopped, but the sky outside my window still looked bruised. I lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling tiles.

A soft squeak of rubber tires broke the quiet. The door pushed open.

Thalia rolled into my room in a hospital wheelchair. She wore a faded gown, but her hair was perfectly brushed into soft waves. A faint scent of expensive vanilla perfume cut through the sharp smell of bleach. She stopped at the foot of my bed.

“Evie,” she said softly. Her voice trembled. It was a perfect, fragile sound.

I didn’t say anything. I just watched her.

“I never wanted any of this,” she whispered, looking down at her lap. “The accident... the rain was so heavy. I couldn't see you in the crosswalk until it was too late.”

She lied so easily. The streetlights had been bright. The pedestrian walking sign was glowing. She had sped up. But I kept my mouth shut. My silence hung heavy and cold in the room.

Thalia sighed deeply. “I hope we can find a way through this together. It’s been so hard. Colby hasn’t left my side all night. He’s been so frightened for me.” She looked up. Her big brown eyes were shining with fake tears. “He’s exhausted, Evie. I just wish you could understand the position I’m in. My kidneys are failing. Colby is just trying to save me.”

She wanted a reaction. She wanted me to cry, or yell, or throw something. I did none of those things. I just turned my head away and looked at the blank wall.

The room went dead quiet. The soft, wounded act dropped.

Thalia gripped the wheels of her chair. She pushed herself closer to the side of my bed. The vanilla scent grew stronger, almost suffocating. She leaned forward. Her voice lost its tremble. It became a sharp, quiet hiss.

“You’ve always been a placeholder, Evangeline,” she murmured. “Eight years, and he still drops you the second I call. He belongs to me. You know that by now, don’t you? You’re just spare parts.”

My heart monitor kept a steady, boring rhythm. *Beep. Beep. Beep.* I looked back at her. I didn't feel angry. I just felt incredibly tired of looking at her.

“Are you done?” I asked quietly.

Thalia’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed with sudden, vicious heat. She looked quickly at the door, then back at me.

Suddenly, she grabbed the armrest of her wheelchair. She jerked her body sideways and threw herself hard onto the cold linoleum floor.

*Smack.*

“Ahhh!” Thalia shrieked at the top of her lungs. She curled into a ball on the ground, clutching her arm. “Help! Oh my god, help me! She pushed me! Evie, why would you do that?!”

I didn't move a single muscle. I just blinked.

Footsteps rushed down the hall. But before anyone ran in, I looked past Thalia. Through the glass partition of my room, I saw Nurse Patricia Osei. She was standing by the charting station. She held a clipboard to her chest. She had been watching the whole time.

Nurse Osei didn't rush in in a panic. She looked at Thalia writhing on the floor. Then she looked at me, lying flat on my back with an IV taped to my hand, ten feet away from the wheelchair. Nurse Osei gave me a tiny, almost invisible nod. She picked up her pen and started writing on her incident report.

A young orderly ran in and helped Thalia up. She sobbed loudly into his shoulder. I just closed my eyes and let them wheel her away.

An hour later, a familiar voice echoed in the hallway.

“I need to see her,” Colby demanded. His tone was sharp. It was the voice of a man used to getting his way.

“Take one more step, and I’ll break your nose,” Jasmine replied.

I opened my eyes. Through the open door, I saw Jasmine standing squarely in the frame. Her arms were crossed. She formed a solid wall between Colby and my room.

Colby adjusted his suit cuffs. His jaw ticked. “Jasmine, step aside. I’m her fiancé. We had a fight. I need to talk to her.”

“You’re not her fiancé,” Jasmine said. Her voice was low, deadly, and completely steady. “You’re a parasite. And if you try to walk into this room with anything other than an unconditional apology, I will make a phone call.”

Colby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Jasmine leaned forward. “I will personally ensure every media outlet in Manhattan learns the truth. I’ll tell them how a hotshot tech CEO tried to negotiate his girlfriend’s organ as a transactional wedding gift for his ex. I’ll make sure your board of directors reads about it over their morning coffee.”

Colby’s face went pale. His eyes darted to the nurses' station, then back to Jasmine. He still thought he was the reasonable one. He thought I was just being difficult.

“She’s not thinking clearly,” Colby muttered, taking a step back. “I’ll give her more time.”

He turned and walked away down the sterile white hall.

Jasmine watched him go until he turned the corner. Then she stepped into my room and closed the door with a firm click. She walked over and sat in the chair next to my bed.

“He’s gone,” she said.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Jasmine pulled out her phone. The screen cast a pale glow on her face. “Sean just texted. He’s reaching out to his contacts in London. We’re pulling the threads on her divorce, her medical history, everything.”

She looked up from her screen. Her dark eyes were fierce.

“Rest, Evie,” she said softly. “By the time you get out of this bed, we’re going to burn her fake little world to the ground.”

The hospital room smelled like bleach and old coffee. Outside, the New York rain tapped a steady rhythm against the thick glass. Jasmine sat in the plastic chair beside my bed. She was scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, her thumb stopped. Her eyes widened.

"He got it," she whispered.

I turned my head. The movement pulled at my bruised ribs. "Sean?"

Jasmine nodded. She stood up and paced to the foot of my bed. "He just sent the files from London. He found the private clinic where Thalia was treated during her marriage to Riley." She looked at the screen. Her lips curled into a sharp, bitter smile. "Sean said, 'She built the whole thing on paper.'"

I pushed myself up a little against the stiff pillows. "What does that mean?"

"It means she's a liar, Evie," Jasmine said flatly. "Her kidney function is impaired, yes. But it's nowhere near transplant-critical. There is no urgent need for a donor. She faked the timeline to trap Colby."

I let out a slow, shaky breath.

"And there's more," Jasmine continued. Her dark eyes flashed with triumph. "Sean got an email from a former colleague of hers. Thalia didn't leave Riley because he was abusive. She left because she got caught sleeping with a coworker. Riley caught her. That's why they divorced."

I stared at the white blanket over my legs. Thalia had played all of us. She used a fake illness to steal my kidney. She used a fake sob story to steal Colby's pity. And Colby swallowed it whole.

Two hours later, the door creaked open. Colby walked in. He wore a fresh charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt. He looked like he just stepped out of a magazine. He didn't look at my bandages. He just looked at my face. He had his boardroom mask on.

"Evie," he said smoothly. He stood at the end of my bed, gripping the plastic footboard. "We need to finish our conversation."

I didn't blink. "There is nothing to finish."

He sighed heavily. It was the sound he made when a server got his order wrong. "You are being emotional. I get it. You were hurt in the accident. But you need to put your feelings aside right now. Thalia's condition is deteriorating rapidly. This is a medical decision. It could save a life. Stop being selfish."

*Selfish.* The word hung in the sterile air. I gave him a piece of my own body, and he was calling me selfish.

He spoke to me like I was a stubborn employee. He wanted to manage my feelings. He wanted to solve a problem. And I was just the spare part he needed to fix it.

I looked at his hands gripping the plastic. His knuckles were slightly pale. Then I looked at his face. The man I loved for eight years was a complete stranger.

"Colby," I said quietly. My voice was completely steady. "When you were dying in that hospital bed eight years ago, did you ever once ask who actually saved you?"

He froze. The annoyance vanished from his face. "What?"

"Did you ever look at the medical records?" I asked. "Did you ever ask the surgeon? Or did you just accept the story that was most convenient?"

Colby stared at me. A tiny frown line appeared between his eyebrows. His jaw went slack. "Evie, what are you talking about? Eileen gave me her kidney. We all know that."

"Do we?" I asked softly.

The room went dead silent. The heart monitor beeped in the background. Colby didn't move. He looked deeply unsettled, like a man who just stepped on a stair that wasn't there. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He let go of the footboard. He took a step back, his eyes searching my face for a joke. But I wasn't smiling. He turned and walked out the door. He didn't look back.

The next evening, Jasmine came back to the hospital. She looked furious. She threw her wet coat on the chair and practically shoved her phone into my hands.

"Look at this," she snapped.

I took the heavy phone. The screen was bright. It was a photo posted by a mutual friend. It was from a charity gala last night. The room was lit with crystal chandeliers. Thalia stood in the center. She wore a stunning floor-length silk gown. There was no wheelchair. There was no IV drip. She was clinging tightly to Colby's arm.

I swiped to the next slide. It was a video. Thalia was surrounded by mutual friends of ours. She was crying. Real, wet tears streamed down her perfectly made-up face.

"I'm just so frightened," Thalia whispered in the video. She buried her face in Colby's shoulder. "Evangeline hates me. She pushed me out of my chair at the hospital. I fear for my safety every day."

Colby wrapped his arm around her. He pulled her close and glared at the camera. He was protecting her from me.

I handed the phone back to Jasmine. I didn't cry. My chest didn't ache. The bubbles of love I used to feel for him were completely dead. The cold hollow inside me just turned to solid ice.

"She wore a gown," Jasmine hissed. "A day after throwing herself on the floor in here. And he just stood there and let her play the victim."

I looked at the dark purple bruising on my arm. I thought about the eight years I spent waiting for him. I thought about the surgical scar on my side.

I went completely still.

"Jas," I said quietly.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice tight with rage.

"Hand me my laptop."