The sharp, sterile stench of bleach burned Avah's nostrils, dragging her consciousness back from the dark void.

She forced her heavy eyelids open. The glaring white ceiling of a VIP hospital room assaulted her vision.

She tried to shift her weight, but a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from her heavily bandaged ankle. A muffled groan escaped her dry lips.

The hospital room door swung open. Her father, Preston, and her stepmother, Eleanor, walked in. Their faces were carved from stone, devoid of any warmth or concern.

Preston didn't ask how she was feeling. He didn't look at her bandages. He marched straight to the foot of the bed and slapped a thick stack of documents onto the rolling tray table.

The bold black letters on the cover page glared at her: Mutual Dissolution of Engagement and Transfer of Trust Fund Shares Agreement.

Eleanor crossed her arms over her designer blouse. Her voice dripped with venom. "You made an absolute scene at the party, Avah. You lacked any sense of decency."

"Kain is exhausted," Eleanor continued, her eyes narrowing. "The family simply cannot afford to lose face again because of your childish tantrums."

Preston tapped the documents with a manicured finger. "Sign it immediately. You are stepping down. You will give the fiancée position to Jaclyn. She knows how to please the Hopkins family."

Avah stared at the two people who were supposed to be her family. A low, raspy chuckle vibrated in her raw throat.

The image of Kain abandoning her in the fire flashed behind her eyes. Her gaze turned to absolute ice.

Avah looked dead into Preston's eyes. She didn't even reach for the Montblanc pen he was holding out to her.

Preston's face flushed dark red. He slammed his fist onto the table, the loud crack echoing in the sterile room.

He leaned in, lowering his voice to a vicious whisper. "Sign it, or I will make sure the press remembers your little 'illegitimate child' scandal from three years ago."

The words hit Avah like a physical blow to the stomach. Her heart violently contracted. That was the one wound that had never stopped bleeding.

Eleanor seized the opportunity to twist the knife. She sneered, "A woman with a filthy stain like that doesn't deserve to marry into the Hopkins family anyway."

The salt burned in her open wounds. But this time, Avah didn't lower her head. She didn't let the tears fall like she used to.

She reached over and violently ripped the IV needle out of the back of her hand. Blood instantly welled up, dripping down and staining the pristine white hospital sheets.

Ignoring the blood dripping from her knuckles, Avah grabbed the thick transfer agreement from the table.

While Preston and Eleanor watched in stunned silence, Avah gripped the edges of the paper and ripped the entire stack in half.

The loud, tearing sound of the thick paper was deafening in the quiet room.

Avah threw the torn pieces directly at Preston's custom-tailored suit jacket. They fluttered to the floor like dead leaves.

"Don't you ever," Avah said, her voice hoarse but vibrating with lethal intensity, "think you can take another dime from me."

Preston's face contorted in rage. He raised his hand high, ready to slap his disobedient daughter across the face.

Avah didn't flinch. She tilted her chin up. The pure, murderous intent in her eyes forced Preston to freeze his hand mid-air.

She reached over and slammed her palm onto the emergency call button attached to the bed rail. "Security. I need these two intruders removed from my room immediately."

The chaotic sound of nurses running down the hallway reached them. Eleanor, desperate to maintain her high-society image, grabbed Preston's arm and pulled him back.

Preston pointed a shaking finger at her before turning to the door. "You will pay for your stupidity today, Avah."

The door slammed shut, rattling the frame. Avah sat alone on the bed. Her face was completely blank as she pressed a cotton ball hard against the bleeding puncture wound on her hand.

She lifted her head and looked out the window at the glittering Manhattan skyline. A dark, consuming fire of revenge ignited in her chest.

A nurse came in, silently re-bandaged Avah's bleeding hand, dimmed the harsh overhead lights, and quietly slipped out of the room.

Avah leaned back against the stiff pillows. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling heavily as she tried to digest the brutal reality of the last hour.

The slightly ajar hospital door suddenly creaked. It hadn't been fully latched after the nurses rushed out, and a small, brightly colored toy car rolled into the room, bumping against the leg of the visitor's chair. A tiny force pushed the door open wider, making a soft squeaking sound. The boy had clearly slipped away from the adjacent suite while his caretakers were distracted.

Avah's eyes snapped open. Her body tensed, thinking her father had returned. Her fingers instinctively reached for the call button again.

A small boy, no older than four, poked his head into the room. He was dressed in a miniature, perfectly tailored suit and a little bow tie.

The boy had the most striking, deep ocean-blue eyes. He blinked, staring curiously at Avah lying in the hospital bed.

Avah froze. The tight knot of anxiety in her stomach instantly unraveled at the sight of the beautiful child.

The moment the boy got a clear look at Avah's face, a massive spark of pure joy exploded in his blue eyes.

His little legs moved fast. He ran straight past the chairs, entirely unafraid, and threw himself headfirst into Avah's arms.

"Mommy!" The boy's voice was soft, sweet, and laced with a desperate, emotional relief.

Avah's entire body went rigid. The word "Mommy" acted like a live wire, sending a violent shock straight through her heart.

Her mind went completely blank. Her first instinct was to gently push this strange child away.

But the boy wrapped his little arms tightly around her neck. The faint, sweet scent of baby powder and milk drifted to her nose. Avah's hands hovered in the air, unable to push him away.

The trauma of losing her own child three years ago hit her hard. Her breathing turned ragged. Her eyes burned, and hot tears threatened to spill over.

Her hands trembled as she finally lowered them, gently rubbing the boy's small back. She tried to steady her voice. "Sweetheart, I'm... I'm not your mommy."

Outside in the hallway, the heavy, rhythmic sound of expensive leather shoes hitting the tile floor approached rapidly.

"Leo." A deep, freezing male voice called out. The footsteps stopped right outside her door.

The hospital door was pushed wide open. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway lights.

He wore a dark, immaculately tailored suit. A suffocating aura of absolute dominance and power radiated from his large frame.

Avah looked up. Her eyes collided with a pair of deep, icy blue eyes-the exact same shade as the little boy's.

The man's dark eyebrows pulled together in a slight frown when he saw his son clinging to a strange woman in a hospital bed.

He stepped into the room. His polished shoes clicked against the floor, tapping out a dangerous, deliberate rhythm in the quiet space.

Atticus stopped two feet away from the bed. He looked down at Avah, his gaze heavy and calculating.

His aggressive eyes slowly scanned Avah's pale face, dropping down to her messy, tangled curls.

Leo turned his head, looking at the towering man. "Daddy! I found Mommy!" he yelled, his voice full of excitement.

A dark, unreadable emotion flashed through Atticus's blue eyes, but it vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hard mask.

He reached out a large hand with prominent knuckles. His tone left no room for argument. "Leo. Come here."

Leo stubbornly shook his head. He buried his face in Avah's neck, hugging her even tighter, as if protecting his territory.

Avah felt incredibly awkward caught between the father and son. She gently tried to pry the boy's arms off her neck.

Atticus suddenly leaned down over the bed. The crisp, clean scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne instantly enveloped Avah, making her breath catch.

Atticus's broad chest was inches from Avah's shoulder. The intense, predatory heat radiating from his body made her hold her breath.

He didn't touch Avah. Instead, his large hand accurately grasped the back of Leo's collar.

"I apologize for my son's intrusion," Atticus said. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that vibrated in the small space between them.

He stood up straight, holding the boy. "I am a representative of the hotel where the fire occurred. I am here to handle the aftermath for the injured guests."

The moment Avah heard the word "hotel," the warmth in her eyes vanished. Her expression turned to frost. Any sympathy she felt for the man evaporated.

"I don't need your compensation," Avah said coldly, her voice flat. "I just want you both to leave my room. Now."

Atticus raised a dark eyebrow. He seemed slightly surprised by the sharp thorns she suddenly aimed at him.

Leo, dangling from his father's grip, kicked his little legs in the air. "No! Don't leave Mommy!" he cried out in protest.

Desperate to end this chaotic encounter, Avah threw off the thin hospital blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed to show them out herself.

The moment her bare foot hit the floor, a blinding, agonizing pain shot up from her sprained ankle.

Avah lost her balance instantly. She pitched forward, a sharp gasp escaping her throat as the floor rushed up to meet her.

Atticus reacted with terrifying speed. With Leo tucked under one arm, his free hand shot out and clamped firmly around Avah's slender waist. The sudden exertion caused a violent, barely perceptible flinch in his broad shoulders. Beneath the crisp fabric of his left sleeve, the raw, blistering tissue of a severe, fresh burn pulled taut, sending a blinding spike of agony up his arm. But his grip remained absolute.

Even through the thin cotton of her hospital gown, Avah could feel the scorching heat of his large palm burning against her skin.

She looked up in panic. Her lips nearly brushed against his sharp jawline. Their breaths tangled together in the tight space.

Atticus's blue eyes darkened like a stormy sea. Without a word, he tightened his grip and effortlessly lifted her entire body off the floor.

The sudden weightlessness made Avah's stomach drop. Her hands flew up, instinctively grabbing the lapels of his dark suit jacket to steady herself.

Right at that highly intimate moment, the door to the hospital room was shoved open violently from the outside. Taking advantage of a brief shift change at the security desk, and aggressively flashing his VIP Hopkins family credentials to intimidate the floor nurses, Kain stood in the doorway. He had returned to do his superficial duty of checking on his fiancée after settling Jaclyn.

Kain's eyes immediately locked onto the sight of Atticus holding Avah tightly against his chest.

His handsome face twisted into an ugly mask of pure jealousy and rage. His skin turned a mottled red.

Kain stormed into the room, pointing a shaking finger directly at Avah's face. His voice dripped with acid.

"Did you really just get dumped and immediately spread your legs for some bottom-tier hotel employee?" Kain spat.

At the words "bottom-tier employee," Atticus's sharp jawline instantly tightened. A chilling, dangerous glint flashed deep within his eyes, completely imperceptible to the hysterical man before him, but his surface expression remained an impenetrable, stoic mask.

Atticus didn't put Avah down. Instead, he pulled her closer against his chest, adopting a highly possessive, protective stance as he faced Kain.

Avah was thoroughly disgusted by Kain's shamelessness. She struggled against Atticus's chest. "Put me down," she demanded through gritted teeth.

Atticus gently lowered her onto the edge of the mattress and carefully pulled the blanket over her legs.

Kain watched this tender exchange, his blood boiling. He lunged forward, raising his hands to shove Atticus out of the way.

Atticus merely shifted his weight. His right hand shot out, grabbing Kain's wrist, deliberately keeping his injured left arm shielded. Ignoring the fierce throb radiating from beneath his sleeve, he moved with a brutal, fluid motion, and twisted it hard.

A loud crack echoed. Kain let out a pathetic scream of agony. He stumbled backward, his legs tangling, and crashed hard into the leather visitor's sofa.

Atticus stood over him, looking down with eyes as cold as a glacier. "Watch your boundaries," he warned, his voice a lethal whisper.