In a split second, he shoved me forward.

Irene screamed and fell into Shane's arms. A sweaty hand that stank like cheap tobacco clamped onto mine.

Cold steel pressed to my neck.

The blade nicked my skin, a thin, icy line of blood.

Shane just lowered his head, soothing Irene. "It's okay. Irene, don't be scared. I'm here."

He never looked back.

Irene glanced at the blood on my neck, brows lifting in triumph, then clung tighter to him.

"Shane, I'm so scared. It's filthy here. Can you take me away first?"

Shane scooped her up.

The kidnapper roared, "No one leaves! You think you can just walk away? Call her rich mom. Ten million in cash in thirty minutes—or I kill her!"

Before he even finished, Irene grabbed Shane's arm, voice shaking. "Shane, let's go. I'm too scared to stay. He's bluffing. He won't kill her—if he does, he gets nothing!"

The kidnapper snapped. The knife dug deeper into my neck. "You think I'm scared? Try it! I said I'll kill her! Make the call!"

The cut split open. Blood ran down the blade, dripping to the ground.

Shane looked at me—my face drained from blood loss. His eyes wavered.

Irene caught it.

Right on cue, she whimpered, then went limp.

"Irene!" Shane pulled her close. The hesitation vanished.

He clenched his jaw, decision made.

Holding her, he forced out, "Lana, I'm sor—"

Bang!

A shot cracked through the air.

The bullet punched through the kidnapper's forehead. The knife hit the ground.

A body dropped behind me. The grip on my arm was gone.

I stood there, frozen. Forgot how to breathe.

Across from me, Shane looked just as stunned. Even Irene—supposedly out—jerked awake in his arms.

Seconds later, SWAT stormed up from the first floor.

My mom was with them.

She rushed over and pulled me in. "Medics! My daughter's neck is injured! Stop the bleeding!"

Only then did it click—the messages I sent from the car.

The cut wasn't deep. A few wraps stopped the bleeding.

Once they cleared me, I pulled away from my mom.

I walked straight to Shane.

He opened his mouth, eyes flicking, like he wanted to explain.

"Lana, I—"

Slap!

I didn't let him finish. My hand cracked across his face.

His head snapped to the side. He just stared.

I raised my hand again.

Slap!

The second hit knocked him off balance. He went down.

When I went in for another hit, the officers and medics finally snapped out of it and pulled us apart.

My mom stepped in. "Lana, your neck's still injured. Don't push it. Come to the hospital for a full check. The PD heads are on their way. We'll get answers."

I closed my eyes, forcing it all down, and left with her.

Later, I heard what happened after we left—Robert Lambert, the chief of Halcyon PD, saw Shane, pointed straight at him, and snapped.

"Forcing a hostage swap? This is a disgrace! Shane Terrell, you're suspended pending investigation!"

While I recovered, something about the case wouldn't sit right.

I dug in, quiet. Found weird contact between Irene and the kidnapper. Yeah—they were probably working together.

But she was Shane's first love. So of course, facts didn't matter. Even with the evidence right there, he kept saying she was innocent. Said I was framing her. Tried every angle to "convince" me.

I ignored him. Completely.

The morning I was set to leave, the department called. Wanted me and my lawyer in.

I pushed the door open. Chief Lambert was already inside—along with Shane and Irene.

Chief Lambert stood and gave a small nod. "Ms. Laurent, you got the reply from the Financial Regulatory Commission?"

I nodded. My lawyer slid over the evidence. "Offshore account Irene set up. A week before the incident, she wired eight hundred thousand to the kidnapper, Owen Kennard. My father only owed five hundred, even with interest. Chief Lambert, that doesn't add up. Looks like Owen Kennard was taking orders from her."

Irene froze—so shocked she didn't even cry. Yeah, that hit. She shot up. "No, that's not true! I paid extra because I was scared someone like him would keep harassing my dad. I just wanted to settle it and protect him. Is that wrong?"

Then she turned to me, face going full pity mode. "Lana, I know you've always disliked me, blamed me for taking your place. But we share blood. I suffered overseas all these years too. We're sisters. Do you hate me that much you'd fake all this just to ruin me?"

The look on her face made my stomach turn.

I let out a cold laugh. "Still your mother's daughter—and she was just my father's side piece. So what makes you think you get to call yourself my sister?"

Her fingers dug into her palm, face burning—humiliated and pissed.

The sympathy act? Yeah, that flopped. Irene flicked a look at Shane, who stayed quiet, and switched tactics.

Her eyes filled again. She stepped in front of him, like she was protecting him.

"Fine. Lana, if you hate me that much, I'll take the blame. Have your lawyer drop the charges against Shane. He's a detective captain—he has a future. You can't ruin it. I'm begging you, show some mercy. Let him go!"

She dropped like she was about to kneel.

Shane grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "Irene, no!"

She buried her face in his neck—no hesitation, just clung tighter. "Shane, let me beg her. I know Lana hates me. I dragged you into this. I can't let you be destroyed."

Then she peeked over his shoulder, eyes glossy. "Lana, I'm begging you. Let Shane go. He just wanted to protect both of us. If you hate someone, hate me. Prison, execution—whatever. Even if I had to die right now, I'd accept it!"

"Stop. Irene, stop! I won't let anything happen to you!"

Shane snapped.

He looked down at the shaking girl in his arms, eyes full of pain.

Watching their whole ride-or-die act? Honestly, kind of hilarious.

I borrowed a light from my lawyer, took a drag, and let the smoke drift as I watched.

Shane saw that and lost it. "Lana, do you even have a heart? Irene's a victim too! You're calling her an accomplice over some offshore account that might not even be real? I'm the one who tricked you there. I agreed to the exchange. If you hate someone, hate me!"

I flicked the ash, eyes cold.

"Shane Terrell, you really think I love you enough not to touch you?"

He didn't see that coming.

He froze.

"Don't you think this is a bit much? You've met her once. This level of devotion? Kinda weird, don't you think?"

He opened his mouth.

I raised a hand. "Last question. What exactly are you to Irene? Don't lie."

Something clicked. He looked away, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white.

After a long pause, he muttered, "Classmates... we were classmates."

I let out a soft laugh. It kept building—louder, sharper—until my shoulders shook.

Classmates.

At that point, I wasn't even mad anymore.

Just... relieved.

I crushed the cigarette and looked at Chief Lambert.

"Sorry, Chief Lambert. My flight's this afternoon. Timing works. My lawyer will handle the rest. Excuse me."

I handed the thick file to my lawyer. "Full chain of evidence. Keep it moving."

"Got it, Ms. Laurent."

Everyone looked thrown.

Yeah—didn't expect that level of proof.

I stood and pushed the door open, no hesitation.

Too late—Shane finally got it. He called after me, words all tangled, but I was done listening. He tried to follow. Chief Lambert shut it down.

"Shane, stop! We're not done here. Cooperate."

Two officers at the door stepped in and walked him back inside.

I got in the car. "Airport."

I leaned back, eyes closed.

My mom was right.

Hearts flip in a second. Real money doesn't.

***

Third-Person POV

In the conference room, the lawyer opened the file bag and shot Shane a mocking look.

"Detective Terrell, sit. Now's not the time to lose it. So—what do you want first? The recording of Ms. Wade working with the kidnapper, or the photos of them in bed?"