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."

My phone vibrated against the plastic bedside table. The rain was still hitting the window. The room smelled like stale bleach. The screen flashed with Jasmine’s name. I picked it up.

"We have it," Jasmine said immediately. Her voice was tight and fast.

I sat up a little. "All of it?"

"Every single piece," she replied. "Sean’s contacts worked fast. We have the medical files. Her kidney function is perfectly stable. There is no transplant list. We have the sworn testimony from the London clinic about her affair with the coworker. And Nurse Osei filed the official incident report about the wheelchair stunt."

I let out a slow breath. "Okay."

Jasmine paused. The line was quiet for a second. "Evie, there's one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Sean pulled a favor with a judge. He got the city traffic camera footage from the intersection." Jasmine’s voice dropped. It sounded cold and heavy. "The light was red, Evie. You were already in the crosswalk. She didn’t hit the brakes."

My hand gripped the phone. My knuckles turned white.

"She accelerated," Jasmine whispered. "She hit the gas. It wasn’t an accident. She tried to kill you."

A freezing chill washed over my chest. The steady beep of the heart monitor seemed to slow down. I looked down at the dark purple bruises covering my arms. I remembered the blinding glare of the headlights. I remembered the roar of the engine speeding up. She wanted me dead. She wanted me erased so she could slide right back into my life. And Colby was holding her hand while she did it.

The last tiny piece of my broken heart turned into a rock. The girl who loved Colby Matthews died on that wet asphalt.

"Evie?" Jasmine asked. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," I said. My voice was completely steady. "Come to the hospital. Set up the meeting."

An hour later, I pressed the call button. A young nurse came in. I told her I was discharging myself. She frowned and argued.

"Your doctor hasn't cleared you," she warned.

I didn't listen. I made her take the IV out of my hand. A small drop of blood welled up on my skin. I pressed a cotton ball to it and threw off the thin hospital blanket.

I put on my own clothes. A black cashmere sweater and dark jeans. Pulling the fabric over my bruised ribs sent sharp spikes of pain through my side. I didn't care. I wanted to feel the pain. It was real. It kept me awake. It kept me focused. The hospital gown felt like a victim's uniform. My clothes felt like armor.

Jasmine arrived ten minutes later. She stood by the window. The gray city light hit her face, making her look pale but fierce. She held a black tablet tightly against her chest. She watched me with dark, protective eyes. We didn't need to speak. We were ready.

The door handle clicked.

Colby walked in. He wore a tailored gray suit. His tie was perfectly straight. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at me. He saw my clothes. He saw the empty IV stand. A relieved, easy smile spread across his face.

He thought I was giving in. He thought I was getting dressed to go home with him. He thought I was finally ready to sign my body over to his first love.

"Evie," he said softly. His voice was warm and smooth. It was the voice he used to close big deals. "You look so much better. I'm glad you've had time to think. Are we ready to be reasonable now?"

He took a step toward me. He reached out his hand, expecting me to take it.

"Colby," I said. I didn't move. I kept my hands at my sides.

A tiny crease appeared between his brows. His hand dropped a few inches. Before he could speak again, soft footsteps shuffled in the hallway. A shadow fell across the open doorway. The faint, sweet smell of vanilla perfume drifted into the room.

Thalia stood there. She wore a pale pink cardigan over her hospital gown. She gripped the doorframe with one hand. She breathed heavily, playing the part of the fragile, dying girl perfectly. She must have tracked his phone. She couldn't stand the idea of him being alone with me. She had to control the narrative.

"Colby?" she whispered. Her voice trembled just the right amount. She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just... I woke up and you were gone. I felt so frightened."

Colby immediately turned his back to me. He rushed to the door. He wrapped his arm around Thalia's shoulders to support her weight.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Thalia," he scolded gently. "You're too weak."

"I just wanted to make sure Evie wasn't upset with you," she murmured. She buried her face in his suit jacket. She peeked at me from behind his lapel. Her eyes were sharp and victorious. She was marking her territory.

I watched them hold each other. I didn't cry. My chest didn't ache. I just felt a deep, profound disgust. It was like watching two strangers in a bad play.

I sat down on the edge of the mattress. I crossed my arms and looked straight at Thalia.

"Close the door," I said calmly.

Colby frowned. "Evie, she needs to rest. This isn't the time—"

"I said, close the door," I repeated. My voice cut through the room like a cold knife. "We're going to talk."