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.

When Davina walked into the apartment, the smell of garlic and onions hit her.

Elana was at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta sauce. She looked up, a tired smile on her face. "Hey, you. Long day?"

Davina dropped her keys on the counter, avoiding her sister's eyes. "Yeah. I had a job interview."

"Really?" Elana's face lit up. "Where?"

"A marketing firm downtown." The lie slipped easily from her lips. She couldn't tell Elana the truth. Not about the marriage. Not about the money. Not about the cut on her cheek. "I don't know if I got it yet."

Elana walked over, wrapping her arms around Davina. "You'll get it. You're the smartest person I know."

Davina hugged her back, guilt gnawing at her stomach. "How are you feeling?"

"Fat," Elana laughed, stepping back and rubbing her swollen belly. "The baby is doing gymnastics."

They sat down at the small kitchen table to eat. The pasta was simple, but it tasted like home. Halfway through the meal, Elana dropped her fork, her face paling.

"What's wrong?" Davina asked, reaching for her sister's hand. "Is it the baby?"

"No, no," Elana said, shaking her head. "Just... anxious. About Daisy. The surgery is so expensive. I don't know how we're going to pay for it."

Davina squeezed her hand tight. "It's taken care of."

Elana looked up, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"I got an advance from the company," Davina said, the words tasting like ash. "And the Blackwell Foundation is helping out."

"The Blackwell Foundation?" Elana's brow furrowed. "How did you get them to help?"

"I pulled some strings," Davina said vaguely. "Don't worry about it."

Elana wiped a tear from her eye. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Davina."

"Just eat your dinner," Davina said softly. "And don't worry about the money."

The next morning, Davina drove Elana to the hospital for her prenatal checkup. The waiting room was crowded, filled with expectant mothers and nervous fathers.

In the ultrasound room, the technician spread cold gel on Elana's belly. The whooshing sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the room, strong and steady.

"There it is," the technician said, pointing to the screen. "Perfect heartbeat."

Elana smiled, her face radiant. "It sounds like a drum."

Davina stared at the screen, at the tiny, curled-up form. A new life. A baby that was wanted and loved.

Her hand drifted to her own flat stomach. In a few weeks, she might be carrying a child too. A child that was contracted for, bargained for. A child she would have to give away.

The thought made her feel sick.

After the appointment, Elana went to the restroom, leaving Davina alone in the hallway. Davina watched a couple walk by. The man had his arm around the woman's waist, guiding her protectively. They were laughing, happy.

A sharp pain pierced her chest. She would never have that. Not with Kash. With Kash, there was only cold transactions and bitter words.

Elana came out of the restroom, adjusting her shirt. "Hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got a phone call yesterday," Elana said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "From the Blackwell Foundation. From a senior manager."

Davina's head snapped up. "The Blackwell Foundation called you?"

"Yes! The manager had such a sexy voice," Elana giggled, then looked embarrassed. "I mean, he sounded very professional. He said it was a special request from the CEO's office. He wanted to know how Daisy was doing. He was so kind."

Davina frowned. The CEO of a massive corporation wouldn't just have a random patient's mother called by a senior manager as a personal favor. Kash must have really begged him to make that call.

The thought of Kash swallowing his pride to ask his boss for a favor made her feel a strange mix of gratitude and resentment. He was a jerk, but he had come through for Daisy.

But then she remembered the text message. Spend it wisely, gold-digger.

The gratitude evaporated. He wasn't doing this out of kindness. He was doing it to keep her compliant. To keep his investment safe.

"I need to get my own money," Davina said, her voice hard. "I can't depend on anyone else."

"Well, you might not have to wait long," Elana said, pointing at Davina's phone. "Your phone is buzzing."

Davina checked her messages. It was from Gavin Finch, the creative director at the digital marketing agency.

You got the job. Start tomorrow. 9 AM sharp.

A genuine smile spread across Davina's face. It was a small victory, but it was hers. It was the first step to freedom.

She took Elana's hand, and they walked out of the hospital into the bright afternoon sun. The city was loud and dirty and overwhelming, but for the first time in weeks, Davina felt a spark of hope.