The underground parking garage smelled like damp concrete and stale exhaust.

Water dripped from the ceiling, making steady clicking noises on the hood of a parked car. I pulled my wet coat tighter around me. My shoulder throbbed where Kellen’s resident had shoved me, but I didn't care about the pain. I didn't have time for it.

My mind was already moving fast.

I am the CEO of Stewart Capital. I don't break down. I solve problems.

Kellen stole the heart meant for Meilani, but Mount Sinai wasn't the only hospital in the world. I could charter a private medical jet within the hour. I had contacts in Zurich and Berlin. I had enough capital to move mountains, buy private clinics, or fly an entire surgical team across the Atlantic. Meilani had maybe forty-eight hours before her vitals collapsed. That gave me two days to find another donor.

Two days to save my daughter's life.

I pressed my thumb hard against the face of my watch. The cold metal gave me something solid to focus on. I reached into my purse for my car keys, walking faster toward my black sedan parked in the VIP section.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind me.

I stopped. The garage was usually empty on level B3, reserved only for senior board members.

Three men stepped out from between two large SUVs.

They wore dark jackets and baseball caps pulled low. They didn't look like hospital staff. They didn't look lost, either. They moved with calm, heavy purpose, fanning out to cut off my path.

"Emberly Stewart?" the man in the middle asked. His voice was gravelly.

My heart kicked against my ribs, but I kept my chin up. "Who's asking?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. He didn't carry a weapon, but his hands were wrapped in thick leather gloves. "Someone paid good money to make sure you stay out of the way for a while. A message, you know? Just a lesson."

Dalia.

The realization hit me like a splash of ice water. This wasn't a sudden emergency. Dalia's collapse, the sudden heart transplant, the residents blocking the door—it had all been planned. Dalia knew who I was. She knew I could crush Kellen with a single phone call. So she had hired muscle to take me off the board before I could even fight back.

"Whatever she's paying you, I'll triple it," I said, keeping my voice firm. "Name your price. Stewart Capital has more cash than you will ever see in your life."

The man sneered. "We already took half upfront, lady. And we finish our jobs."

He lunged.

I didn't freeze. I swung my heavy leather handbag directly into his face. The metal clasp struck his cheekbone with a loud smack. He grunted, stumbling back.

I turned on my heel and bolted toward the stairs.

A hand grabbed the collar of my wet coat. The second man yanked me backward with violent force. My feet slipped on the slick concrete. I fell hard on my side, the impact knocking all the air out of my lungs.

A sharp burn ripped through my knee and elbow.

"Bitch," the first man spat, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek.

I rolled onto my back and kicked out wildly, my heel connecting with the third man's shin. He cursed, bending over. But there were three of them. The middle man grabbed my arm and dragged me across the ground. Before I could scream, he slammed me hard against a thick concrete support pillar.

My head snapped back against the stone.

Bright white spots exploded behind my eyes. The world spun. My purse broke open, spilling its contents across the dirty, oil-stained floor.

My phone slid three feet away. The glass screen spider-webbed on the concrete, but the display was still lit.

I slid down the pillar, gasping for breath. A warm trickle ran down my temple. Blood.

The men paused for a second, chuckling among themselves like they had all the time in the world. They were enjoying it.

My hand shook as I reached out with bloody fingers. I dragged the cracked phone toward me.

I had one shot. I didn't think about police response times. I didn't think about security guards. I thought of Kellen. He was still in the hospital. He was only two floors above me. He was Meilani's father. Even if he hated me, even if he loved his mistress, he wouldn't let men beat his wife to death beneath his own surgical suite.

I hit his speed dial.

I pressed the speaker button.

The line rang once.

My chest heaved. "Pick up," I prayed into the dim air. "Please, Kellen. Pick up."

It rang a second time.

Then, a soft click. The line connected.

"Kellen!" I choked out, tasting copper on my lip. "Kellen, help me! Level B3, there are men—"

"He's a little busy with me right now, sweetheart."

The voice on the other end was smooth, sweet, and completely calm.

Dalia.

My throat closed up.

"Put him on," I gasped, clutching the phone against my chest. "Put Kellen on the phone!"

From the other end of the line, through the quiet hospital room, came the sound of a man's low, relaxed laughter.

It was Kellen.

He was laughing. Light and easy, the way he laughed when he was pouring wine at a party. The way he laughed when life was perfect.

"Don't worry about him, Emberly," Dalia purred softly into the receiver. "I'm taking very good care of your husband. Enjoy your morning."

*Click.*

The screen went black.

The silence rushed back in, cold and absolute.

A heavy shadow fell across my face. I looked up through blurred eyes.

The three men stood right in front of me, circling in, cracking their knuckles against the dark concrete.

The man in the middle reached for my coat.

A sharp, heavy crack echoed through the garage.

It wasn't a gunshot. It was bone breaking.

The man screamed, his hand instantly bending backward at a sickening angle. Before he could fall, a black blur slammed into him. A dark leather boot struck his chest, sending him flying into the side of a concrete pillar. He hit the stone and crumpled, completely limp.

I pulled my knees to my chest.

Veer stood under the flickering fluorescent light.

He didn't wear a coat, just a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His face was pure stone. The faint white scar along his left jaw was stark and pale against his skin.

The second thug lunged at him, swinging a heavy wrench.

Veer didn't flinch. He stepped inside the swing, grabbed the man’s throat with one hand, and slammed his head straight down into the hood of the nearest car. The metal dented loudly. Glass shattered. The man went down like an empty sack.

The third thug backed away, his boots skidding on the wet oil. His eyes were wide with terror.

Veer moved faster than thought. Two clean strides. A hard, brutal strike to the solar plexus, followed by a vicious hook to the temple.

The last man dropped hard onto the floor.

It was over in ten seconds. Pure, quiet destruction.

Veer didn’t look at the three bodies on the pavement. He turned straight toward me. He didn't run, but every step was heavy and focused.

He knelt down on the wet concrete in front of me. His knees soaked in the dirty water, but he didn't care. His dark eyes flicked over my face, taking in the blood at my temple and my bruised wrists.

His large hands touched my jaw. His fingers were warm, steady, and very gentle. He checked my neck, my collarbone, and my ribs with practiced care.

He didn't say a single word. He didn't ask what happened. His private investigators had flagged Dalia’s payments to a street fixer two days ago. He had been waiting outside Mount Sinai since four this morning, watching over me from the dark.

He slipped one arm under my shoulders and the other beneath my knees.

He lifted me effortlessly against his chest. I buried my face into his neck, catching the faint scent of rain and cedar. The world went black before we reached the car.

***

When I opened my eyes, the air smelled like lavender and clean linen.

Warm afternoon light spilled across the room. Outside the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, the autumn trees of Central Park stretched out like a golden carpet. I was in Veer’s penthouse.

A neat bandage covered my forehead. The throbbing pain in my knee was dull, wrapped tightly in soft gauze.

I turned my head.

Veer was sitting in a dark leather armchair beside the bed. He wasn't reading. He wasn't looking at a tablet or his phone. He was just sitting there, watching me breathe. He looked like he hadn't moved an inch for hours.

My heart spiked in panic. The memory crashed back into me like an avalanche.

"Meilani," I choked out, trying to push myself up. "Veer, Kellen gave her heart away—she's in room 412—she doesn't have time—"

"Lie down, Emberly," he said.

His voice was low, deep, and steady. It cut through my panic like a blade.

"She is in surgery right now," he added quietly.

I froze, gripping the edge of the blanket. "What?"

"Her surgery started forty minutes ago," Veer said, his gaze never leaving my eyes. "At NewYork-Presbyterian. A second donor

heart came through from Zurich eighteen hours ago. An exact pediatric match. I moved her out of Mount Sinai the moment you stepped into that parking garage."

My breath caught in my throat. My ears rang. "Eighteen hours ago? But Mount Sinai didn't even approve Dalia's transfer until this morning..."

"I didn't wait for your husband to make his choice," Veer said flatly. "I already knew what he was. The surgical team working on Meilani right now is the best in North America. I vetted every single one of them myself. She is going to live, Emberly."

The words sank into my chest. *She is going to live.*

Tears stung my eyelids, but I forced them back. I stared at his familiar, unyielding face.

"How long have you been tracking her donor list?" I whispered. "How long have you had eyes on my family?"

Veer held my gaze.

"Since the day you married him."

***

The bedroom went completely silent.

I pressed my thumb hard against the glass face of my watch. I pressed until the skin under my nail turned white. The silence stretched between us for a long, painful minute.

Three years.

For three years, I had believed I was carrying the entire sky on my back. I had spent countless nights pacing hospital lobbies, begging doctors, and staring at monitors alone while Kellen made excuses about hospital politics. I thought I was the only wall between my child and death.

And Veer had been standing right behind me the whole time. Quiet. Unseen. Unmoving.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice broke slightly. "Why did you let me carry all of it alone?"

Veer leaned forward. He rested his forearms on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest ache.

"Because you needed to feel like you were doing it yourself," he said softly. "And you were. You fought like hell for her, Emberly. I just made sure the net was there if you fell."

It was the longest sentence he had spoken to me in four years.

A tight knot swelled in my throat. I couldn't look at him anymore. I turned my head toward the bright glass window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline below.

I blinked fast, but it was too late.

Veer saw the bright shimmer in my eyes before I could wipe it away.