Bailey Douglas POV:

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of Abernathy's law firm in Manhattan. My wet heels left a trail of dark, muddy water on the pristine beige carpet.

The receptionist at the front desk looked up. She saw my soaked trench coat, my ruined shoes, and my pale face. She immediately stood up, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and moved to block my path.

"Excuse me, you can't just—"

The door to the inner office opened. Abernathy stepped out. The moment he saw me, he waved the receptionist away. A flash of deep respect crossed his aged face.

I followed him into his private conference room. The air conditioning was running on high. The cold air hit my wet clothes, and a violent shiver wrecked my body. My immune system was garbage. Donating bone marrow and countless pints of blood to Haleigh over the years had left me permanently weak.

Abernathy pulled a dry cashmere blanket from a cabinet and handed it to me. He poured a cup of steaming black coffee and set it on the mahogany table.

I didn't touch the coffee. I pulled out a chair and sat down. "Show me the asset list."

Abernathy sighed. He unlocked a heavy floor safe and pulled out a thick stack of documents. He pushed them across the table. "Ms. Douglas, dumping these stocks today is financial suicide. You are losing millions."

I picked up the heavy steel pen from his desk. I didn't even look at the final dollar amount. I flipped to the last page and signed my name on the dotted line.

I pressed down so hard the metal nib tore through the thick paper, leaving a dark, jagged scar of ink. It was done.

Abernathy silently put the papers away. He opened his laptop and turned the screen toward me. It showed an encrypted registry of private islands in the Caribbean.

My eyes scanned past the luxury resorts and the developed properties. I pointed to a tiny, jagged green dot in the middle of nowhere. It had no docks. No buildings.

"That one," I said.

Abernathy stared at me in shock. "Ms. Douglas, that island has no infrastructure. No running water, no electricity grid. It is completely isolated from the world."

A cold smile touched my lips. "That is exactly what I want. A place where no one can ever find me."

Abernathy nodded slowly. "Gathering the liquid funds and processing the deed transfer will take about two weeks."

I stood up. I folded the cashmere blanket and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. "Until then, the Douglas family knows nothing. Absolute secrecy."

By the time I left the law firm and took a cab back to the Douglas Manor in Long Island, the sky was pitch black.

I stood in front of the massive brass gates. I looked up at the second floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows were blazing with light. I could hear the loud, joyful laughter spilling out into the cold night.

That laughter. That sound of a happy family that I was never allowed to be part of. It had haunted my entire childhood.

I took a deep breath. I placed my freezing hands on the brass handles and pushed the heavy doors open.

The moment the doors parted, a wave of heat, the smell of white roses, and the loud pop of a champagne bottle hit my face.

The grand foyer was transformed. White flowers covered every surface. The long dining table was buried under mountains of expensive gift boxes.

Jameson stood in the center of the room. He held a crystal champagne flute. His eyes were soft and full of absolute devotion as he looked at Haleigh, who was surrounded by her three brothers.

Derrick, the eldest, was carefully fastening a massive diamond necklace around Haleigh's neck.

Blake, the second brother, held a digital camera, filming Haleigh's fake tears of joy.

Kane, the youngest brother, held a plate with a slice of cake, carefully feeding it to Haleigh like she was a helpless child.

The cold wind from the open door swept into the room. It hit the crystal wind chimes hanging in the hall. They crashed together with a sharp, piercing ring.

Every single person in the room froze.

Five pairs of eyes looked past the sea of white roses and landed on me. I stood there, dripping muddy water onto their perfect floor.

The tender look on Jameson's face vanished. His brows crashed together. A brief flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by cold annoyance.

Haleigh's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Then, she shrank back against Jameson's chest, her eyes widening like a terrified deer.

Kane slammed the cake plate down onto the table. The porcelain shattered with a loud crack.

He marched toward me, his face twisted in rage. He stopped a foot away, looking down at my soaked, shivering body with pure disgust.

"Do you look like this because you're back for a funeral?"

Bailey Douglas POV:

I didn't lower my head. I didn't apologize. For the first time in five years, the fear that usually choked me when Kane yelled was completely gone.

I calmly unbuttoned my soaked trench coat. I slipped it off my shoulders and let it drop straight onto the floor.

The heavy, wet fabric hit the priceless white Persian rug with a wet slap. Dark, filthy street mud immediately bled into the pristine white fibers.

Derrick stepped forward, his face hardening into the strict, authoritative mask he always wore. "Pick that up. Clean the rug. Now."

I looked up. My eyes swept over Derrick with total emptiness. "Let the maids clean it," I said, my voice flat.

I remembered being ten years old, kneeling on this exact floor, scrubbing until my fingers bled because Haleigh had "accidentally" knocked over a glass of milk and blamed me. I was done scrubbing.

I stepped around the coat and started walking toward the stairs.

Blake moved fast. He threw his arm out, blocking the bottom step. He sneered at me. "What's your problem? You get dumped out on the street and decide to come back here and throw a tantrum?"

Jameson set his champagne glass down. He walked over to Blake and gently pushed his arm down. He looked at me, his eyes running over my shivering frame. He tried to soften his voice, taking on that arrogant, pitying tone he used when dealing with a stray dog.

"Bailey, go upstairs and take a hot shower. You're making a mess."

I looked at his face. The face of the man who had promised to marry me, who had just spent the afternoon kissing another woman in the rain.

My stomach heaved. A violent wave of disgust hit me. I took a quick half-step backward, putting physical distance between us like he carried a disease.

Jameson froze. His hand, which had been reaching out to pat my shoulder, stopped dead in the air. He looked genuinely shocked by my revulsion.

From the center of the room, Haleigh saw his reaction. She immediately grabbed her chest and let out a weak, rattling cough.

Instantly, the tension around me vanished. All four men whipped their heads toward Haleigh. They abandoned me at the stairs and rushed back to the sofa.

Haleigh leaned weakly against Jameson's side. Her eyes were red. Her voice trembled perfectly. "Don't be mad at Bailey. She didn't mean to ruin my party. She's just having a bad day."

Kane's face turned red with anger. He pointed a finger at me from across the room. "You ungrateful bitch. She's defending you, and you just stand there looking like a psycho!"

I watched the terrible, pathetic play unfold. A cold smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth. I turned around and put my foot on the first stair.

"Wait," Haleigh called out.

I heard her bare feet pattering against the carpet. She ran up behind me, blocking the stairs. She was holding a small, black velvet box tied with a silver ribbon.

She held it out to me with both hands. Her smile was sweet and innocent. "I got you a gift, Bailey. Since you had to go on that 'business trip' today."

I stared at the box. I didn't reach for it. When we were kids, Haleigh gave me a "gift"—a hand-knit sweater with sewing needles hidden in the sleeves. I knew what her gifts meant.

"Take it, Bailey," Jameson commanded from the living room. His voice was hard. "Don't be ungrateful."

"She's sick, and she still thought of you," Derrick added, his tone dripping with disappointment. "Have a heart."

I felt the crushing weight of their stares. Four men, ready to tear me apart if I made their precious princess sad.

I slowly raised my pale hand. I took the heavy velvet box from her fingers.

The second the box touched my palm, I saw it. Haleigh's mouth twitched upward into a vicious, triumphant smirk.

My fingers paused on the velvet. I felt it. A tiny, frantic vibration coming from inside the dark box.

Haleigh immediately took a large step backward, putting distance between us. "Open it," she urged, her voice breathless.

"It's an antique brooch she bought at a Paris auction," Kane snapped. "Open it and say thank you."

My thumb rested on the metal clasp. The air in the grand foyer felt suffocating. I looked past Haleigh. I looked straight into Jameson's eyes. There was nothing in his gaze but blind indulgence for the woman beside him.

I closed my eyes. I pressed my thumb down.

*Click.*

The lid sprang open. There was no shine of vintage gold. There was only a blur of dark, hairy brown legs lunging out of the shadows.

A massive Brown Recluse spider dropped directly onto the bare skin of my hand.

Haleigh let out a deafening, theatrical scream. She threw her hands over her face and threw her body backward toward the floor.

"Oh my god! What is that!"

Bailey Douglas POV:

The Brown Recluse moved with terrifying speed. Its hairy legs scrambled across my pale skin. Before I could even flinch, it sank its razor-sharp fangs directly into the blue vein on the back of my hand.

White-hot agony exploded up my arm. It felt like liquid fire was being injected straight into my blood.

My muscles violently spasmed. My fingers gave out. The velvet box slipped from my grasp and hit the hardwood floor with a dull clatter. The spider hit the ground and instantly scurried into the dark crack beneath the baseboard, vanishing entirely.

I clutched my burning hand to my chest. I stumbled backward, my spine slamming hard against the wooden railing of the stairs. I gasped for air, but my lungs felt tight.

At the exact same moment, Haleigh let out another blood-curdling shriek. She fell backward, her arms flailing. As she went down, she deliberately twisted her body, making sure her forehead scraped against the sharp corner of the marble statue base near the sofa.

"Haleigh!" Jameson roared.

The sound tore from his throat like a wounded animal. He sprinted across the room, diving toward the floor, and pulled her into his arms.

Derrick and Blake lunged forward, their faces pale with terror as they surrounded her.

Kane didn't go to Haleigh. He turned to me. His eyes were completely unhinged with rage.

He crossed the distance between us in two strides. He grabbed the front of my wet shirt in his massive fists and slammed me back against the wall. The impact knocked the remaining air out of my lungs.

"What did you put in that box?!" Kane screamed in my face, spit flying from his lips. "You sick freak!"

I couldn't answer him. The venom was already racing through my system. The back of my hand was rapidly swelling, the skin turning a sickening shade of purple and black. My vision blurred into dark, fuzzy patches.

I opened my mouth to tell him I was bitten. To tell him I was dying. But my throat was swelling shut. Only a broken, wheezing hiss came out.

Kane didn't look at my hand. He didn't care. He shoved me away with brutal force.

I collapsed onto the floor, my knees hitting the wood hard.

"Derrick, get the car to the front! Now!" Jameson yelled, his voice trembling with panic.

He was holding Haleigh. A tiny, single drop of blood was welling up on her forehead from the scrape.

Haleigh clung to Jameson's lapels. She kept her eyes half-closed, crying softly. "Jameson, I'm so scared... Why does Bailey hate me so much?"

"I've got you. You're going to be okay," Jameson whispered frantically. He turned his head and glared at me where I lay gasping on the floor. His eyes were pure ice. "If something happens to her, I will kill you myself, Bailey."

The four towering men formed a protective wall around Haleigh. They lifted her up and rushed her out the front doors, treating a paper-cut like a fatal gunshot wound.

The heavy brass doors slammed shut behind them.

The noise vanished. The manor fell into a deadly, suffocating silence.

I lay curled on the cold floor. I couldn't breathe. Anaphylactic shock was shutting down my organs. My airway was a pinhole.

I remembered being thirteen. I had a fever of 104 degrees. I was lying in the basement, shivering, while the entire family packed their bags and flew Haleigh to a ski resort in Switzerland because she had a mild sniffle and needed "fresh mountain air."

They left me to die then. They were leaving me to die now.

I dragged my body forward. My fingernails scraped against the wood. I forced myself to crawl toward the landline phone resting on the side table near the sofa.

My vision went completely black. My fingers brushed the plastic cord of the phone. Then, my strength snapped. My body crashed heavily onto the floor.

The swinging door to the kitchen suddenly pushed open.

Maria, the head maid, walked out holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup. "Mr. Jameson, I made—"

She stopped. She saw me lying motionless on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of dark, toxic blood leaking from the bite wound.

The tray slipped from her hands. The porcelain bowl shattered, hot soup splashing everywhere.

Maria screamed. She threw herself onto her knees beside me. She grabbed my shoulders, her hands shaking violently when she saw my black, swollen arm and my blue lips.

She scrambled over my body and grabbed the phone. Her fingers smashed the 911 buttons.

"Help! Please! Send an ambulance to the Douglas Estate!" Maria sobbed into the receiver. "She's been bitten! She's not breathing!"

While the operator dispatched the medics, Maria kept the phone pressed to her ear and pulled out her cell phone. She frantically dialed Jameson's number.

It rang twice. Then, it was declined.

She dialed Kane. Declined. Derrick. Declined.

They were hanging up on her.

Through the thick, crushing darkness of my fading consciousness, I felt something wet and warm hit my cheek. It was Maria's tears.

I used the absolute last shred of my energy to weakly curl my fingers around Maria's hand.

My heart slowed to a crawl. My mind went blank. But before the darkness took me completely, a single, burning thought branded itself into my soul.

"If I survive this, I will make all of you pay."