The invitation to Ivy's birthday gala arrived like a death sentence. Black cardstock with silver embossing, delivered by a Russell family messenger who watched me with cold eyes.

"You'll attend," he said, not a question but a command. "Miss Russell insists."

I clutched the invitation, my fingers trembling. "Tell Miss Russell I'm still recovering."

The messenger's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Miss Russell said to remind you about your family home in Connecticut. How unfortunate it would be if something happened to it."

My blood ran cold. The Garcia family estate—my parents' legacy, the only thing I had left of them.

"I'll be there," I whispered.

---

The ballroom of the Manhattan penthouse glittered with chandeliers and champagne flutes. I stood alone near a column, watching Ivy hold court in a crimson gown that hugged her perfect figure. Ander remained close to her side, his hand resting possessively on her lower back.

"Elaina." Ivy's voice cut through the crowd as she approached, Ander in tow. "How lovely of you to join us."

I forced a smile. "Happy birthday."

"Let's toast," she announced, raising her glass. The room quieted as all eyes turned to her. "To new beginnings and... unexpected endings."

Something in her tone made my skin crawl. I glanced up nervously at the massive crystal chandelier above us, its weight suddenly seeming impossible to support.

A faint creak echoed overhead.

"Elaina," Ander's voice was tense, his eyes fixed on something above me. "Move."

Before I could react, the sound of splintering wood filled the air. The chandelier—a monstrous thing of crystal and brass—began to detach from the ceiling.

Time slowed.

I saw Ander's face transform with calculation. His eyes darted between Ivy and me, measuring, deciding.

He lunged forward.

For one heartbeat, I thought he was coming for me.

Instead, he tackled Ivy out of the way, shoving me violently aside in the process.

"Get down!" he shouted.

I stumbled backward, losing my balance. The chandelier crashed down where Ivy had stood seconds before.

But I wasn't clear of danger.

A massive shard of crystal and brass struck my shoulder and arm as debris rained down. I screamed as it tore through my flesh, pinning me to the floor.

Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky against the cold marble.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Ander cradling Ivy protectively, checking her for injuries while I lay bleeding.

---

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and despair. I stared at the ceiling, counting tiles to distract from the throbbing pain in my arm and shoulder.

The door creaked open.

Ander stood there, disheveled and reeking of expensive whiskey. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his shirt wrinkled as if he'd slept in it.

"Elaina." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry."

I turned my face away, unable to look at him. "Go away."

"I had to save her." He stepped closer, swaying slightly. "If she died, they would have killed you."

"And what about me?" I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "What about my life?"

He reached for my hand, but I jerked away. "Don't touch me."

"It was the only way," he insisted, his eyes wild with desperation. "You don't understand what they're capable of."

"I understand perfectly." I grabbed the vase of flowers from the bedside table and hurled it at him. It shattered against the wall, water and glass exploding everywhere. "Get out!"

Ander flinched but didn't move. "Your scars will heal," he said quietly.

"My scars?" I laughed bitterly. "You mean the ones you gave me while protecting her?"

The door opened again, and Ivy appeared, her face a mask of false concern. She took in my bandaged arm, her lips curving into a smirk before she schooled her features.

"Darling," she cooed to Ander. "The doctor said she needs rest."

Ander looked between us, something breaking in his eyes before he turned and walked out.

---

The cemetery was silent except for the rustling of leaves and the distant sound of traffic. I knelt before my parents' graves, tracing their names on the marble headstones.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I should have been there."

"You're always so dramatic." Ivy's voice sliced through the peaceful silence.

I turned to find her leaning against a nearby tree, watching me with amusement.

"What are you doing here?" I stood, clutching my purse tighter.

"Checking on you." She approached slowly, her heels clicking against the stone pathway. "Those scars suit you, by the way. A permanent reminder of where your priorities should be."

"I don't need reminders from you."

"Oh, but you do." Her smile widened, revealing perfect teeth. "You still don't understand what really happened that night, do you?"

My heart stuttered. "What are you talking about?"

Ivy stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your parents' accident? It wasn't an accident at all."

The world tilted beneath my feet. "What?"

"I had my men cut the brake lines." She traced a finger along my cheek, and I recoiled from her touch. "Right before they drove to pay your ransom."

"Why?" The word barely escaped my lips.

"Because they were going to pay it." Her eyes gleamed with sociopathic glee. "And I couldn't have that. Not when I'd already decided Ander was going to be mine."

"You're lying," I whispered, though something in her eyes told me she wasn't.

"Ask him." She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. "Deep down, he knows. But he's too much of a coward to act. He loves his shipping empire more than justice for your parents."

She straightened, adjusting her designer jacket. "Oh, and Elaina? That scar on your arm? It's just the beginning of what I'm capable of."

As she walked away, leaving me trembling between my parents' graves, I realized with horrifying clarity that the worst was yet to come.

The police station's fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I clutched my purse tighter, the weight of Ivy's confession still ringing in my ears. My parents' graves seemed to call out to me, demanding justice I'd been too afraid to seek.

"I need to report a murder," I told the desk sergeant, my voice steadier than I felt.

He barely looked up from his computer. "Fill out this form."

I took the clipboard, my hand trembling as I wrote: *Ivy Russell confessed to cutting brake lines on Eduardo and Elena Garcia's car, resulting in their deaths.*

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I wiped them away angrily. Crying wouldn't bring them back.

"Officer," I called, sliding the form across the counter. "This is urgent."

He glanced at it, his expression shifting subtly. "Wait here."

I sat on the hard plastic chair, watching officers move through the station. Something felt wrong. The way they avoided my gaze, the hushed conversations that stopped when I looked up.

Twenty minutes later, the sergeant returned. "Someone will be with you shortly."

Another thirty minutes passed. I stood up, a chill running down my spine.

"I need to speak to someone now," I insisted.

"Ma'am, please sit down."

"I'm leaving." I headed for the door, panic rising in my chest.

Two officers blocked my path. "We need you to wait."

"What's happening?" I demanded.

The door behind me opened. I turned, expecting to see a detective.

Instead, three men in suits stepped in—Russell enforcers, their eyes cold and calculating.

"Elaina Garcia?" The tallest one smiled. "We need you to come with us."

I backed away, knocking over a chair. "You can't just—"

The sergeant looked away as they grabbed my arms.

"You shouldn't have gone to the police," one whispered in my ear. "No one betrays the Russells."

---

The warehouse smelled of rust and salt water. They'd blindfolded me during the drive, but I could feel the damp air of the dockyard seeping through the walls.

"Sit her down," a voice ordered.

Rough hands shoved me into a metal chair. The blindfold was ripped away, revealing a cavernous space filled with shipping containers and industrial equipment.

"Your boyfriend chose wrong," the tall enforcer said, securing my wrists with zip ties. "Ivy sends her regards."

"What are you talking about?" I struggled against the restraints.

He didn't answer, just placed a digital timer on the table beside me. The red numbers began counting down from thirty minutes.

---

Ander's phone vibrated as he sat in his office, reviewing shipping contracts. Unknown number.

He answered, turning to the window as Manhattan's skyline blurred in the rain.

"Mr. Lynch," Vincent Russell's voice was smooth as silk. "We need to discuss an urgent matter."

"What do you want?" Ander's jaw tightened.

"I believe you're in a position to make a choice." The screen split into two video feeds.

On the left, Elaina sat tied to a chair, her face bruised, eyes wild with fear. A timer ticked beside her.

On the right, Ivy struggled against ropes binding her to another chair, tears streaming down her face as men with guns stood behind her.

"Choose," Vincent said simply. "Save one, lose the other."

Ander's heart pounded. "Where's Elaina?"

"Dockyard warehouse on Pier 47. And Ivy is at the Westside storage facility."

"I need addresses—"

"You have fifteen minutes, Mr. Lynch. The addresses are on the screen now."

Ander stared at the split screen, his mind racing. If he saved Elaina first, the Russells would kill her later. But if he secured Ivy—the key to the entire Russell operation—he could use her as leverage.

"Tick tock," Vincent reminded him.

Ander grabbed his keys, his decision made.

---

Detective Colter Dunn watched from his unmarked car as two officers emerged from the precinct, speaking urgently into their radios.

"Damn it," he muttered, recognizing the signs of corruption. "They're tipping them off."

He'd been tracking the Russell payroll officers for months, building a case against the corrupt network within the department.

Now, watching Elaina being forced into an unmarked van, he knew he couldn't wait for backup or proper channels.

"Dispatch, this is Dunn," he radioed. "Possible kidnapping at the precinct. I'm pursuing."

He started his car, siren silent as he followed the van through traffic.

---

The warehouse door burst open with a deafening crash as Dunn fired his weapon, taking down the first guard. Two more rushed him from the shadows.

"Police! Drop your weapons!"

Gunfire echoed through the cavernous space. Dunn dove behind a stack of crates, returning fire.

"Find the girl!" someone shouted.

Dunn moved silently through the containers, his training guiding him toward the center of the action.

He found her tied to a chair, her face streaked with tears, the timer now counting down from ten minutes.

"Elaina," he whispered, rushing forward with his knife.

Her eyes widened as he cut her free. "Ander's not coming," she choked out. "He chose her."

Dunn's expression hardened as he pulled her behind him, gun raised toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Stay behind me," he ordered. "We're getting out of here."