"I have a legal right to those records."

Elinor leaned over the counter of the hospital administration office, her knuckles white against the laminate surface.

The administrator, a woman with steel-gray hair and a stiff posture, didn't blink. "Mrs. Grant, I've explained this. The HIPAA Privacy Rule prohibits us from releasing patient allocation data to unauthorized individuals. Even to family members of the deceased."

"I am her mother," Elinor said, her voice rising. "And a donor kidney was diverted from my daughter. I want to know who authorized it."

The woman's expression remained impassive. "If you have a legal grievance, you need to submit form 104-B to the compliance department. Security!"

Two large men in dark uniforms stepped forward, positioning themselves behind Elinor. One of them gestured to the door. "Ma'am, it's time to leave."

Elinor wanted to scream. She wanted to reach across the desk and shake the smug compliance off the woman's face. But she knew it was useless. The system was built to keep people like her out.

She turned and walked out into the corridor, her heels clicking against the linoleum. She felt the locket bounce against her chest with every step, a cold reminder of why she was here.

She nearly collided with Dr. Evan Cole.

He was walking quickly, his head down, a tablet clutched to his chest. He looked up, saw her, and froze.

"Dr. Cole," Elinor said, stepping into his path. "Why was Cece's surgery canceled?"

Cole's eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape route. "Mrs. Grant, I am so sorry for your loss. But I can't discuss patient care in the hallway."

"Was it the transplant committee?" Elinor pressed, moving closer. "Did someone else take her kidney?"

Cole's face drained of color. He took a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet. "The committee makes decisions based on medical urgency and compatibility. That's all I can say."

"Did Kamryn Turner take it?" Elinor demanded. "Did she use her connections to jump the line?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cole stammered. He sidestepped her, breaking into a near-jog down the hall.

"Tell me!" Elinor chased after him, but he disappeared through a set of restricted doors, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Elinor stood there, breathing hard, her fists clenched at her sides. The anger was a living thing inside her, clawing to get out. She turned away from the doors and walked toward the main lobby.

She stopped dead.

The lobby was bright, filled with the afternoon sun streaming through the glass walls. In the center seating area, Derick was sitting on a plush sofa. He was holding the hand of a little girl-Kiana. Kamryn was beside him, her body angled toward his, her hand resting on his thigh.

Kiana was holding a bright red balloon. She was laughing, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright. She looked healthy. Vibrant. Alive.

Elinor's stomach lurched. The contrast was a physical assault. Cece in her hospital bed, blue and gasping, versus this child, sitting where Derick could see her, touch her.

Kamryn looked up. Her eyes met Elinor's across the room. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face. She leaned in close to Kiana, her voice carrying across the quiet lobby.

"Look, sweetie," Kamryn said, loud enough for Elinor to hear. "That crazy woman is here again."

Derick's head snapped up. His gaze locked onto Elinor. The warmth in his eyes from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a hard, warning glare.

Elinor walked toward them. Her legs felt like lead, but her rage propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet away, her eyes burning into Kamryn.

Kamryn shrank back, pressing herself against Derick's side. "Derick, please. She's scaring me."

"Stay away from us, Elinor," Derick said, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't make a scene."

"Did you take it?" Elinor asked, ignoring him, her focus solely on Kamryn. "Did you steal my daughter's chance to live?"

Kamryn's face crumpled into a mask of injured innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about! Why are you doing this?"

"She's bloodthirsty," Derick snarled, standing up. He positioned himself between Elinor and Kamryn, a human shield. "You're attacking an innocent woman because you're bitter."

"Innocent?" Elinor let out a harsh laugh. "She is not your family, Derick. She is a liar."

"She is more family than you've ever been," Derick shot back.

The words hit Elinor like a slap. The coldness that had settled in her chest since the crematorium spread, freezing her veins.

A few nurses and visitors had stopped, watching the confrontation with open curiosity. Whispers rippled through the lobby.

Kamryn peeked around Derick's shoulder. She looked directly at Elinor and mouthed two words: You lose.

The rage exploded. Elinor lunged forward, her arm raising, a finger pointing at Kamryn's face. "You stole from her! You let her die!"

Derick moved faster than she anticipated. He grabbed Elinor's wrist before she could reach Kamryn, his fingers closing around the bone like a vise.

"Don't touch her," Derick growled.

Pain shot up Elinor's arm. His grip was bruising, crushing. She looked down at his white-knuckled hand, then up at his face. There was no love there. No concern. Only fury and possession.

She tried to yank her arm back, but he held tight, his fingers digging into her skin, leaving angry red marks.

"Let go of me," Elinor said, her voice trembling with a mix of pain and fury.

She twisted her arm, wrenching it out of Derick's grip. She stumbled back a step, cradling her wrist. A vivid red bracelet of fingerprints was already blooming on her skin.

Derick stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "Apologize. Right now. Or I swear I'll have you removed."

Kamryn was still leaning against the sofa, her hand covering her mouth as fake sobs shook her shoulders. Kiana, frightened by the shouting, started to cry, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Bad lady!" Kiana wailed, pointing at Elinor. "Don't yell at my mommy!"

Elinor looked at the little girl. At her healthy pink cheeks, her strong lungs, her intact, functioning body. A body that was alive while Cece's was ash in a locket.

The grief and the rage twisted together inside Elinor, snapping something loose. She started to laugh.

The sound was harsh, grating, completely devoid of humor. It echoed through the lobby, causing the onlookers to step back in alarm. Kamryn stopped crying, her eyes widening as she watched Elinor.

Derick hesitated, thrown off by the sound. "Elinor?"

Kamryn leaned forward, her face partially hidden by her hair. A smirk played on her lips, her eyes glittering with triumph.

Elinor saw that smirk. She saw the red mark on Kamryn's cheek from the hospital slap days ago, fading but still visible. The woman thought she was untouchable.

Elinor stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a flash. She drew back her hand and swung.

The slap rang out like a gunshot.

Kamryn shrieked, the sound piercing the quiet lobby. She fell backward onto the sofa, her hand flying to her face, her body crumpling like a ragdoll.

Derick stood frozen, his eyes wide, his brain struggling to process what had just happened.

Kiana screamed, scrambling to the far end of the sofa, hiding her face in the cushions.

Elinor didn't stop. She pivoted, turning her body to face Derick.

He saw the look in her eyes and instinctively took a half-step back, but his pride caught him. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

Crack.

Elinor's palm connected with Derick's cheek with every ounce of strength she possessed. The force of the blow snapped his head to the side. A coppery scent hit the air as his teeth cut the inside of his cheek.

The lobby went dead silent. Even the background music seemed to stop.

Derick slowly turned his head back to face her. A thin line of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were dark, lethal.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Elinor's blouse at the collar, hauling her up onto her toes. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, his face inches from hers.

Elinor didn't flinch. She stared into his furious eyes, her own gaze steady and full of disgust. "Derick Grant," she said, her voice low and clear. "We are done."

Derick's fingers trembled against her collar. The certainty in her voice seemed to unbalance him more than the slap.

Elinor reached up and pried his fingers off her shirt, one by one. She smoothed out the wrinkled fabric, her movements deliberate and calm. She looked over at Kamryn, who was still clutching her cheek, mascara running down her face.

"Enjoy him," Elinor said coldly. "Your days are numbered."

Kamryn flinched, the fear in her eyes genuine this time.

Elinor turned back to Derick. "My lawyer will be in touch."

She reached into her purse. Her fingers closed around the cold band of metal inside. She pulled out her wedding ring-a large, flawless diamond set in platinum. She had taken it off the night Cece died.

She held it up for Derick to see, then let it drop.

The ring hit the polished marble floor with a sharp tink. It spun in a circle, the diamond catching the light, before rolling away under a nearby chair.

Elinor turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. She didn't look back. She kept her spine straight, her shoulders back, even though her wrist throbbed and her heart was shattering all over again.

Derick stood rooted to the spot. He stared at the spot where the ring had landed, the sound of it hitting the stone echoing in his ears like a closing door.

Three days later.

The apartment in Brooklyn was a shoebox.

It was a far cry from the penthouse in Manhattan-no doorman, no floor-to-ceiling windows, just a cramped living room that connected to a tiny kitchen. But it was hers. It was hidden.

Elinor sat on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes. She pulled out a small, pink sweater. It still smelled faintly of the hospital, of Cece. She pressed it to her face, inhaling the scent, her eyes burning.

A loud, aggressive buzzing shattered the silence.

Elinor's head snapped up. She stared at the door.

The buzzing came again, longer this time, followed by a heavy pounding.

"Elinor! Open the door!"

Derick's voice was muffled by the wood, but the fury in it was unmistakable.

Elinor scrambled to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs. She backed away from the door, her eyes darting around the room.

"I know you're in there!" Derick yelled. "Open it, or I'll break it down!"

Elinor pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her breathing. She wasn't ready. She couldn't face him, not here, not in this small space where she couldn't escape.

A metallic clicking sound came from the lock. Derick hadn't become a billionaire by taking no for an answer. He had resources.

The lock clicked. The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a bang.

Derick stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. Two men in suits stood behind him, one holding a lockpicking tool. Derick dismissed them with a jerk of his head, and they retreated down the hall.

He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cramped, dingy apartment. His lip curled in distaste. "This is where you're hiding? Slumming it?"

Elinor grabbed a pair of heavy fabric scissors from the table behind her. She held them up, the point aimed at his chest. "Get out."

Derick ignored the scissors. He walked further into the room, his expensive shoes crunching on a piece of packing tape. He looked at the boxes, the scattered clothes, the lack of a second bedroom.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "Where is Cece?"

"I told you," Elinor said, her hand shaking, the scissors wobbling. "She's dead."

"Stop lying!" Derick closed the distance between them in two steps. He grabbed the blades of the scissors with his bare hand, squeezing them tight enough that the metal bit into his palm. He wrenched them out of her grip and threw them across the room. They clattered against the kitchen counter.

He grabbed Elinor by the upper arms and slammed her back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

"Where is my daughter?" he demanded, his face inches from hers, his breath hot on her skin.

Elinor gasped, trying to inhale. And then she smelled it. The faint, cloying scent of gardenias. Kamryn's signature perfume. It clung to Derick's collar, a ghost of the woman he had just left.

A wave of nausea rolled through Elinor. Her stomach heaved. This man, who had just been holding another woman, was now pressing her against a wall, demanding to see the child he had ignored.

"Let me go," she choked out, struggling against his grip.

Derick pressed his body closer, using his weight to pin her. He thought she would submit. He thought the familiar proximity would calm her, remind her of who she belonged to.

Elinor looked into his eyes. She saw only arrogance. Only possession. No remorse. No grief.

The disgust was overpowering. She gathered every ounce of saliva in her dry mouth and spat directly into his face.

Derick froze. The wet glob hit his cheek, sliding down toward his jaw. His eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed to slits.

He released one of her arms to wipe his face, his hand shaking with rage. He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into the hinges of her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"You are testing my patience," he said, his voice a low, venomous whisper. "Don't push me."

"Your patience?" Elinor laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "Your patience is for that fraud you keep on a leash?"

Derick's grip tightened on her chin. The mention of Kamryn was a red flag. "You're delusional. Kamryn is the only sane woman in my life."

"Then go to her," Elinor said, her voice dead. "Go back to your fake family."

Derick stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to force the truth out of her. But the deadness in her eyes unsettled him.

He released her chin with a shove. "There is no divorce," he said, adjusting his cuffs. "A Grant doesn't get divorced. You'll come home when you're done throwing your tantrum."

He turned and walked out, leaving the broken door hanging off its hinges.

Elinor slid down the wall, her legs giving out. She wrapped her arms around her knees, her body trembling uncontrollably. She fumbled for her phone on the floor beside her.

"Hello," she said, her voice hoarse. "I need a heavy-duty deadbolt installed. Today. And a security system. The best you have."