Ericka POV

The wind on the lake was fierce, whipping the dark water into jagged whitecaps.

I stood on the lower deck of the *Vittoria*, the Family yacht.

I wasn't a guest. I was a prop.

Caleb had dragged me here for Hailie's birthday party. "To show the Associates that the Reids are united," he had insisted.

I wore a dress that didn't fit, the fabric straining to cover the bruises and the burns.

Upstairs, on the main deck, the music throbbed. Laughter floated down like shards of broken glass.

I saw them through the glass railing. Hailie was wearing a tiara. A literal, sparkling tiara.

She was holding court. My mother was laughing at her jokes; Fitzgerald was pouring her champagne.

And Caleb... Caleb was watching her with a look of feral, intense protection.

Then, he spotted me.

He came down the stairs, his expression thunderous.

"Why are you hiding?" he demanded. "You're making us look bad."

"I'm dying, Caleb," I said, my weight sagging against the railing. "I can't pretend anymore."

"Stop with the cancer act," he spat, snatching my arm. "You bought a grave yesterday. Just to manipulate me. To make me feel guilty."

"I bought it because I have nowhere else to go."

"You have *here*!" he shouted. "You have the life I give you!"

"This isn't a life! It's hell!"

Hailie appeared at the top of the stairs. "Caleb? Is she bothering you?"

"Go back up, Hailie," Caleb said, his voice softening instantly.

"I just wanted to offer her a drink." She walked down, balancing two flutes.

Suddenly, the boat lurched violently as a massive wave slammed into the hull.

Hailie stumbled.

She wasn't wearing deck shoes; she was in six-inch stilettos.

She pitched forward, crashing into me.

I lost my footing.

Together, we tumbled over the low railing.

The water hit me like concrete.

It was freezing. Pitch black.

I clawed my way to the surface, gasping. My lungs burned; icy water filled my mouth.

"Help!" Hailie screamed, flailing nearby. "Caleb!"

I saw Caleb grip the railing.

He scanned the water.

He saw me. He saw Hailie.

He had two hands, but the current was ripping us apart. He could only reach one of us before the dark water swallowed us whole.

I looked at him and stopped struggling.

*Choose,* I thought. *Show me who you really are.*

He locked eyes with me. For a split second, I saw hesitation. I saw the boy who used to braid my hair.

Then his gaze snapped to Hailie.

"Hailie!" he roared.

He dove.

He swam past me.

He swam *right* past me.

The wake from his powerful strokes pushed water into my face.

He grabbed Hailie and hauled her toward the ladder.

He didn't look back.

I watched them climb up. I watched him wrap her in his jacket.

I stopped kicking.

The cold was numbing, but strangely peaceful.

I let the water take me.

They had thrown me away years ago; the lake was just finishing the job.

I sank into the black, and for the first time since waking up, I felt warm.

Ericka POV

I didn't die.

That was my first disappointment.

I woke up coughing up water that tasted like the stagnant lake and engine oil. The hospital ceiling was the same cracked beige tile I had stared at days ago, a familiar landscape of misery.

Dr. Evans was there. He looked tired. Worse, he looked guilty.

He didn't meet my eyes. He looked steadfastly at the clipboard.

"Your lungs are failing, Ericka," he said, his tone clinical to mask the pity. "The water from the lake introduced an infection your immune system can't fight. The cancer has spread to the lining of your chest wall."

"How long?" I asked. My voice was shards of glass in my throat.

"Weeks," he said. "Maybe less if the stress continues."

"Good," I said.

He left without another word. He didn't offer sympathy. Sympathy is a weakness that gets you killed in my family.

The door opened. I expected Caleb. I expected him to come and finish what the lake started.

It was Hailie.

She looked pristine, untouched by the chaos. Her arm was cradled in a sling that matched her silk blouse. A fake injury for a fake victim.

She sat on the edge of my bed, claiming my space. She picked up an apple from the untouched tray and bit into it. The crunch was loud, violent in the silent room.

"You are like a cockroach," she said, chewing slowly. "You just won't die."

I looked at the ceiling. I was too tired to look at her.

"Why?" I asked. "Why me? I gave you everything. I welcomed you when you were nothing."

She laughed. It was a hollow, ugly sound.

"Because you were the Princess," she said. "You had the bloodline. You had the respect. You had Caleb. I wanted it. All of it."

She leaned in close. I could smell her perfume. It was mine. She had stolen my signature scent.

"I didn't just want his money, Ericka. I wanted to see the great Ericka Reid broken. I wanted to see Caleb look at you with hatred. It was so easy. A few fake tears. A few forged logs. He is a dog, and I hold the leash."

My right hand was still hidden under the sheet. My thumb rested on the screen of the burner phone I had bribed a nurse to buy with my last ring.

I pressed the red square.

*Stop recording.*

"You think he loves you?" I asked softly.

"He loves the idea of me," she said, her voice dripping with arrogance. "He loves that I am weak. He loves that I need him. You? You were always too strong. Too independent. Men like Caleb want a pet, not a partner. And now that you are dying, I will be the Queen."

She stood up, smoothing her skirt. She walked to the window.

She looked back at me. Her eyes were empty.

"Goodbye, Ericka."

She opened the window.

Then, she screamed.

It was a bloodcurdling sound, practiced and piercing. She ripped the sling off her arm. She threw herself against the wall, then scrambled onto the sill.

"Help!" she shrieked. "She's trying to push me! Caleb!"

The door burst open.

Caleb was there. His gun was drawn.

He saw Hailie teetering on the ledge. He saw me in the bed, my hand still under the sheet.

He didn't see a dying woman holding a phone. He saw a monster.

He holstered the gun. He crossed the room in two massive strides.

He grabbed Hailie and pulled her down. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing, pointing a shaking finger at me.

"She said she would take me with her!" she screamed, burying her face in his chest. "She said if she dies, I die!"

Caleb looked at me.

There was no conflict in his eyes this time. Only cold, hard resolution.

"Get up," he said.

"I can't," I whispered.

He grabbed my ankle. He didn't hesitate. He dragged me off the bed. My head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

"Take her to the roof," he told the guards.