The phone rang at 6:00 AM, ripping Davina from a fitful sleep.

She fumbled for it, her eyes crusted with exhaustion. "Hello?"

"Davina, it's Dr. Coleman." The doctor's voice was grim, lacking its usual bedside manner. "I'm calling about Daisy."

Davina sat up, the blanket falling to her waist. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"She's developed a pre-operative complication," Dr. Coleman said. "An infection. We need to start aggressive treatment immediately, or we lose the window for the surgery."

"How much?" Davina asked, her voice cracking. She already knew the answer.

"Fifty thousand. Upfront. By three o'clock this afternoon." The doctor paused. "I'm sorry, Davina. Hospital policy. Without the payment, we can't proceed."

"I'll get it," she whispered. "Just give me a few hours."

"I'll do what I can, but the board is strict. Three o'clock."

The line went dead.

Davina dropped the phone on the bed. The room spun around her. Fifty thousand dollars. In nine hours.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She called everyone. Distant cousins, former coworkers, acquaintances from school.

Voicemail. Rejections. Laughter.

She threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and bounced onto the floor, the screen cracking further.

She buried her face in her hands, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. There was no one. Nothing.

Her eyes fell on the coffee table. The supplementary agreement lay next to a black-and-white photocopy of a credit card. Kash had left it there last night, a reminder of his control.

Sign the paper, and the money is yours.

Her phone buzzed from the floor. A voice message from Daisy.

She crawled over and hit play, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Aunt Vina," the little girl's voice was weak, barely a whisper. "I had a bad dream. Can you come hold my hand? I miss you."

The sound broke something inside Davina. A tear slipped down her cheek, then another. She pressed a hand over her mouth, choking back a sob.

Dignity. Pride. They were luxuries she couldn't afford. Not when Daisy's life was on the line.

She picked up a pen from the table. Her hand was steady now. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. She would not let Daisy die because of her pride.

She signed her name.

She stood up, her legs shaky. She grabbed her car keys from the counter and ran out the door.

She drove like a maniac, weaving through the morning traffic, running yellow lights. The trip to Manhattan that usually took forty minutes took twenty.

She pulled up to the high-rise apartment building, her heart pounding in her ears. She pressed the buzzer for the top floor, her finger trembling against the button.

A crackle of static. "Yes?" Kash's voice was irritated, rough with sleep.

"It's Davina. Let me up."

A long pause. The buzzer sounded, and the glass doors clicked open.

She rode the elevator up, watching the numbers climb. She caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. Pale face, wild eyes, hair a mess. She looked desperate.

The elevator doors opened onto a quiet, carpeted hallway. She walked to the end of the corridor, stopping at a heavy oak door. It swung open before she could knock. Kash stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wore a black silk bathrobe, loosely tied. His hair was wet, droplets of water trailing down his neck.

He looked dangerous. And he knew it.

"Change your mind?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Davina stepped out of the elevator. She reached into her purse and pulled out the signed agreement. She held it out to him, her hand shaking.

He took it, glancing at the signature. The smirk widened into a cold smile. "Smart girl."

He stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating toward her. He reached out, his fingers brushing her jaw, tilting her chin up. "So, you're finally ready to earn your keep."

Davina flinched away from his touch. Her eyes burned, but she forced herself to look at him. She had come here for a reason.

She raised her hands, her fingers trembling, and wrapped them around the back of his neck. She pulled him down.

Kash froze for a second, surprised. Then his eyes darkened, and he took control.

He backed her up against the wall, his hands gripping her waist. He kissed her hard, punishingly, his teeth grazing her lower lip.

Davina closed her eyes. A tear leaked out, sliding down her temple into her hair. She thought of Daisy's pale face, and she let the darkness take her.

Kash lifted her without breaking the kiss, carrying her down the hallway. He kicked open a door and threw her onto the massive bed.

The mattress dipped under her weight. Before she could catch her breath, he was over her, his heavy body pinning her down. He yanked at her jacket, pulling it off her shoulders, his hands rough and impatient.

His mouth moved down her neck, hot and demanding. Davina's body betrayed her, a traitorous heat pooling in her stomach. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers digging into the sheets.

It was too much. It was too fast.

Daisy's face flashed in her mind. Pale. Fragile. Waiting.

"Kash, wait." She grabbed his wrist, her fingers tight around his tendons. "Stop."

He froze, his breath coming in heavy pants. His eyes, dark with desire, narrowed in frustration. "What now?"

She swallowed, the lump in her throat painful. She forced the words out, her voice barely a whisper. "I need an advance. Fifty thousand dollars."

The change was instant. The heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold fury that made her flinch. He pulled back, staring at her like she was something filthy.

"Fifty thousand?" he repeated, his voice low and deadly. "Now? While we're in bed?"

"It's for Daisy," she pleaded, sitting up and clutching her shirt closed. "Her surgery."

"Don't," Kash snarled, cutting her off. He scrambled off the bed, putting distance between them as if she were contagious. "Don't feed me that bullshit."

"It's the truth!" Davina cried out, tears streaming down her face. "The hospital called this morning. She needs the money by three."

"I said shut up!" he roared. He paced the room, his hands clenching into fists. "You planned this. You waited until I was vulnerable to extort me."

"No, I didn't."

"You're worse than I thought." He stopped pacing, his chest heaving. He looked at her with pure disgust. "Using sex as a weapon. Using a sick kid as a prop. You make me sick."

He stalked over to the nightstand, yanking open a drawer. He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open.

He pulled out a sleek black credit card. He walked back to the bed and hurled it at her.

The card struck her cheek with a sharp sting before falling onto the blanket. The humiliation of the act was worse than any physical pain. She gasped, her hand flying to her face, feeling the heat of the welt rising on her skin.

"Take it," Kash said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Take the money and get out."

Davina stared at him through a blur of tears. The man she had forced herself to touch, to kiss, was looking at her like she was a cockroach he wanted to crush.

"Kash, please listen to me."

"Get out!" he shouted, pointing at the door. "Before I call security and have you thrown out."

He turned his back on her, walking over to the window. He stared out at the city, his shoulders rigid.

Davina sat on the bed, her body numb. The card lay on the blanket, resting near her trembling fingers. She picked it up, her fingers closing around the hard plastic.

It was done. She had the money. Daisy would live.

But the cost was a piece of her soul.

She buttoned her shirt with shaking hands, grabbed her jacket, and ran. She didn't look back as she fled the apartment, the elevator ride down a blur of tears and pain.

Up in the apartment, Kash stood at the window, watching her tiny figure run out of the building and into the street. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, the smoke curling around his face.

"Fifty thousand," he muttered, his eyes cold. "Just the appetizer."

He pulled out his phone, his thumb moving swiftly across the screen as he set up real-time transaction alerts for the supplementary card. "I'll be watching every notification," he muttered, his eyes cold. "Every store, every penny. I'll know exactly where that money goes."

He pocketed the phone, a grim smile on his face. He thought he had her figured out. He thought he knew exactly what kind of woman she was.

He had no idea he had just destroyed the only chance he had at the truth.

Davina burst into the hospital billing office, her chest heaving. She slapped the black credit card down on the counter.

"Fifty thousand," she gasped out. "For Daisy Maddox's surgery. Room 402."

The clerk picked up the card, glancing at the name on the front. She swiped it through the machine. A second later, the receipt printed out.

"Approved," the clerk said, sliding the receipt across the counter.

Davina signed her name, her hand trembling so badly the signature was barely legible. She grabbed the receipt and the payment confirmation, clutching them to her chest like a lifeline.

The weight on her lungs lifted, just a fraction. Daisy would get her surgery. She would live.

She walked down the hallway toward Daisy's room, forcing a smile onto her face. She peeked inside. Daisy was asleep, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor a comforting sound.

Davina stepped inside, gently brushing a strand of hair from the little girl's forehead. "It's okay, baby," she whispered. "Aunt Vina fixed it."

She slipped back out into the hallway, leaning against the cool tile wall. The adrenaline faded, leaving her hollow. She let the tears fall, silent sobs shaking her shoulders.

"Excuse me? This is ridiculous!"

A loud, obnoxious voice echoed down the hall. Davina froze, her breath catching.

She knew that voice.

She walked toward the noise. At the end of the hallway, a man in a dirty leather jacket was yelling at a nurse. Mitch. Her sister's ex-husband. Daisy's deadbeat dad.

"I'm not paying for that brat!" Mitch shouted, spittle flying from his lips. "She's not my problem!"

Davina marched up to him, her sadness replaced by a burning rage. "What are you doing here, Mitch?"

Mitch turned, a sneer twisting his features when he saw her. "Well, well. The little sister. Come to beg for more money?"

"I'm not the one begging," Davina shot back, stepping into his space. "Why aren't you paying for your daughter's surgery?"

Mitch laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "She's not my daughter. Not anymore. And she's better off dead than a burden on me."

"You son of a-" Davina raised her hand, but she stopped herself. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Mitch leaned in, his breath hot and sour. "Or maybe she isn't mine at all. Your sister was a slut, just like you. Spreading her legs for anyone with a wallet."

Davina saw red. She didn't think. She just acted.

Her hand flew through the air, connecting with Mitch's cheek with a resounding crack. The force of the slap sent his head snapping to the side.

The hallway went dead silent. Mitch clutched his face, his eyes wide with shock, then narrowing with rage. "You bitch!"

He lunged at her, his hands reaching for her throat. Davina stumbled back, her heel catching on the floor. His fingers closed around her arm, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Hey! Let go of her!"

A security guard ran down the hall, his hand resting on his taser. Mitch dropped his grip, raising his hands in surrender.

"Whatever, man," Mitch muttered, backing away. "She's crazy. They're all crazy."

He shot Davina a venomous glare. "You'll regret that."

He turned and scurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Davina rubbed her arm, her heart still pounding. The security guard asked if she was okay, and she nodded, dismissing him.

"Miss Maddox?" A deep voice spoke from behind her.

She turned. A man in an expensive suit stood there, holding out a crisp white handkerchief. He was older, with silver hair and a kind face.

"I'm from the Blackwell Foundation," he said. "I was asked to look in on your niece's case."

Davina took the handkerchief, dabbing at the red mark on her cheek. "The Blackwell Foundation?"

"Yes. Someone very influential asked us to ensure Daisy receives the best care possible." He handed her a business card. "If you need anything, please call."

He nodded politely and walked away.

Davina stared at the card in her hand. Blackwell. Kash's boss. He must have asked him to help. Despite his cruel words, he had still pulled strings for her.

A warm feeling flickered in her chest, but it was quickly extinguished when her phone buzzed.

A text from Kash.

I see the card is active. Spend it wisely, gold-digger. I'm watching.

The warmth vanished, replaced by a cold dread. He was watching. He thought she was out shopping for shoes, not fighting for her niece's life.

She deleted the message, her jaw tight. She didn't need his approval. She just needed Daisy to survive.