"Who are you?" Michelle Harris gasped, yanking back on pure instinct. But before she could make another move, a stranger pressed a chloroform-soaked cloth hard over her nose and mouth.

"Help…" The word barely slipped past her lips before the world dissolved into blackness. When light finally pricked her eyelids again, she jolted awake, her brain spinning and disoriented.

The endless clicking of a camera echoed through the small room, shutter after shutter snapping photos of her. A man loomed over her, his greasy hands roaming where they shouldn’t. Adrenaline exploded through her veins. Michelle recoiled and shoved him away as hard as she could. "Get off me! Don’t you fucking touch me!"

Ignoring the searing pain shooting from the cuts on her body, she scrambled for the discarded clothes scattered at her side and yanked them on fast. Just as she finished, the door creaked open. "You done? Mr. Harris is waiting."

Michelle froze, cold dread creeping up her spine. Logan Harris?

"It’s finished. You can go now," the photographer said, to her shock.

Confusion and shock crashed over Michelle in waves. Had they only come here to take photos? Panic screamed at her to get dressed and run—who knew what worse things they had planned next. She didn’t need to be told twice.

Meanwhile, the man who’d assaulted her dialed a number. "Ms. Perkins? It’s done."

Josephine Perkins’ laughter trickled through the line, cold and sharp as a knife. "Excellent. Make sure those photos get delivered to her grandmother."

"Will do."

By the time Michelle had run blocks away, her legs burned enough to slow her down. That’s when her phone rang. She fumbled it out of her pocket and answered, breathless. It was Mrs. Wilson, her neighbor, her voice tight with worry. "Michelle, it’s Mrs. Wilson from next door. I heard strange noises coming from your house earlier, but when I knocked, your grandmother never answered. I have a bad feeling about this. You need to come home right now."

Ice shot through Michelle’s entire body. She mumbled a rushed reply and bolted for home, her heart hammering against her ribs. Frantic, she dialed her grandmother over and over again, but every call went straight to voicemail. A heavy, sickening dread settled deep in her gut.

Please, Grandma, be okay. Please be okay.

When Michelle burst through her front door, she found her grandmother lying motionless on the living room floor. "Grandma!" She sprinted to her side, fumbling for her phone to call an ambulance, that’s when she spotted it—a crumpled photo clutched tight in her grandmother’s limp hand. Michelle’s heart dropped straight through her feet. It was one of the photos from the attack.

The ambulance arrived minutes later. Her grandmother was raced straight to the ER, but it wasn’t long before a doctor stepped out, his expression soft and sorry. "I’m so sorry. We did everything we could…"

The words hit Michelle like a punch to the chest. She stumbled backward as her grandmother, covered head to toe in a plain white sheet, was wheeled out past her. She lunged forward, sobs tearing out of her throat. "Grandma, I didn’t do those things. Those photos are fake. Wake up. I need you. Please don’t leave me…"

Michelle’s cries were raw, tearing her throat apart, and the whole hospital corridor echoed with her heartbreak. Grief and shock crashed over her all at once. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she crumpled to the cold tile floor, unconscious before she even hit it.

Michelle Harris blinked awake, her mind slowly piecing together what happened right before she blacked out.

"Grandma!" she screamed, throwing off the covers and launching herself out of bed—only to slam straight into a solid chest.

The familiar scent flooded her senses, and tears spilled over before she could stop them. She dug her nails into the man’s arms, sobbing brokenly, "You happy now, Logan Harris? What the hell did I ever do to deserve this from you?"

Michelle’s sobs tugged at something raw in Logan. On instinct, he reached out to pull her close—but she slapped him so hard his head snapped to the side, her words sharp enough to cut: "I hate you!"

She left those words hanging thick in the air and bolted out of the hospital room. Logan’s jaw tightened, his face going dark as he watched her go. He must’ve been out of his mind to feel sorry for her two seconds ago.

He sighed and strode after her. But the second he stepped out of the hospital, he spotted a crowd clustered by the entrance, all craning their necks and pointing up at the roof. He followed their gazes, and there she was—that same familiar silhouette, teetering right on the edge of the rooftop.

What the hell is she playing at now? Even as he rolled his eyes at her stunt, his feet moved faster, urgency propelling him up the stairs.

Up on the roof, Michelle’s slim frame swayed in the wind, so close to tipping over that one wrong move would send her falling. Logan’s expression hardened as he stepped slowly, carefully toward her. "Michelle, you really think I give a damn if you do this?"

At the sound of his voice, Michelle turned slowly. Her lips tugged up into a cold, bitter smile. "Logan Harris, there’s only one thing left I owe you—and that’s my life."

Then, before Logan could even react, he watched her close her eyes and lean back.

"NO!"

He lunged forward and snatched her arm at the very last second. But his own momentum carried him over the edge too, leaving both of them dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. A collective gasp ripped through the crowd far below.

Michelle fought to yank herself free, tears pouring down her face. "I give up, Logan! Just let me go!"

Logan’s jaw clenched so hard his veins bulged at his temple. His grip burned like fire against her skin, hot enough to brand her, and he refused to loosen it even an inch.

"Michelle, you don’t get to check out until you’ve paid for what you did! This is just you trying to run from your guilt!" Logan shouted through gritted teeth.

Swaying in the sharp wind, Michelle suddenly laughed. Run from her guilt? She didn’t have any sins to atone for… not unless you counted loving Logan, the very thing that’d gotten her grandma killed.

With Michelle still fighting to pull free, Logan’s body slipped further over the edge, until he was dangling too. Luckily, security showed up just in time and hauled both of them back over the ledge.

Michelle laid flat on the concrete, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. "This is all you ever wanted, isn’t it? You just wanted me dead! I gave you what you wanted—so why won’t you just let me be free? Even in death?"

Logan’s chest twisted so hard it ached. He stepped forward without thinking, ready to pull this broken, fragile woman into his arms— but a hand grabbed him from behind before he could move. "Logan, are you hurt?"

Josephine Perkins’ sudden presence froze him mid-step. His icy stare melted into softness as he gave her a reassuring smile. "I’m okay."

When he looked back down at Michelle, she’d already been rushed off by the doctors.

He was about to go after her when Josephine slumped against his chest, murmuring, "Logan, I feel so dizzy…"

As he watched her being wheeled away, Logan ultimately didn’t go after Michelle.

"Where are you taking me? Put me down!"

Michelle Harris stared up at Thomas Cruz, her eyes wide with terror. She knew him—he was her surgeon—but she couldn't shake the icy fear that had clamped around her chest right then.

Her frantic struggling had already drawn more than a few stares from passersby, when a low voice suddenly rumbled right in her ear: "I’m not going to hurt you. There’s something you need to see to understand just how reckless you’ve been."

With that, Thomas carried her into his office and locked the door behind them. Michelle scrambled backward until her back hit the corner of the room, her nerves frayed. "What are you planning?"

"Open it and see," Thomas said sharply, handing her a manila folder.

Michelle flicked a confused glance his way before flipping the folder open. Her eyes blew wide with shock, and she snapped her head up to stare at him. "Who even are you? Why are you showing me this?"

"Looks like you never stopped to question the real story behind the Harris family accident," Thomas said, stepping closer as he casually flipped to a middle page, revealing a full evaluation report.

"The fire at your family’s factory all those years ago wasn’t an accident—it was arson. The perpetrator paid off people to fake the report and pin it on worker error. Put simply, your parents didn’t just die in a tragedy… they were murdered." Thomas dragged the last word out sharp, emphasizing every syllable.

Michelle shivered uncontrollably. Her mind flickered for half a second to Logan Harris’s parents, but she shoved the thought away immediately.

"You already know who did this. You just won’t let yourself admit it," Thomas said pointedly.

She flung the folder straight at him, voice blazing with denial: "I barely even know you! Why would I believe this garbage?"

With that, Michelle spun on her heel and headed for the door.

Thomas watched her back retreating, and called out right before she reached the handle: "Have you ever wondered why the accident happened the way it did? How Logan’s family showed up to save the company so fast? Why they pushed that agreement on you right after? You really think all of that was just one big coincidence?"

"Enough!" Michelle screamed, desperate to shut him up. She wrenched the door open and stormed out, never looking back.

When she got back to the main hospital wing, she ran straight into Logan’s parents, who were just stepping out of the elevator. Logan’s mother hurried over, wrapping her worried hand around Michelle’s. "Thank god you’re alright, honey. Why do you look so upset? We’re always here for you, you know that."

Michelle stared blankly at Logan’s mother, Thomas’s words suddenly ringing loud and clear in her head. She pulled her hand back coldly, her tongue already itching to ask about what happened all those years ago.

But when the questions hit her lips, she swallowed them down. All she said was, "I’m just tired. I need to rest. You two should head home."

When she saw they still hesitated to leave, Michelle huffed a cold laugh. "Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid before I keep my end of the deal. After all, you were the ones who saved the Harris family name back then, weren’t you?"

She glanced at Logan’s mother, and caught a faint, almost invisible smile tug at her lips.

"Silly girl, what on earth are you going on about? Alright, go get some rest," Logan’s mother said, tugging her husband along with her as they left.

Michelle pretended to head back to her hospital room. Only after they’d turned the corner and were completely gone did she turn back around, heading straight for Thomas Cruz’s office.

Maybe some things aren’t just coincidences after all.

Lost in her swirling thoughts, Michelle never noticed the pair of cold, sharp eyes watching her every move from the shadows behind her.