AVERY POV:

The biting Boston winter wind slapped my face as I burst out of the building, but it couldn't cool the boiling disgust in my veins.

"Avery! Will you just stop throwing a tantrum?"

Heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Trevor, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a custom Briar Hockey jacket, rushed out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, almost punishing.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I violently yanked my arm away, wiping my wrist against my jeans.

He sighed, rolling his eyes as if I were a misbehaving child. "Look, I said I was sorry, okay? Sienna and I... it was just physical. She threw herself at me. You know how rich girls are, they're used to getting what they want. Plus, her family has connections that can get me drafted into the NHL."

He actually sounded proud of it. He stepped closer, his tone shifting into a sickening, condescending whisper. "But you know you're the one I actually want to come home to. You're good at taking care of me. Listen, I know you're desperate for Hannah's surgery money. If you just calm down, act like a good girlfriend, and pretend this didn't happen, I can ask Sienna to give me some money to lend to you. Think about it, Avery. It's a win-win."

I stared at him, my blood running completely cold.

He wanted to use the money from his cheating partner to "buy" my silence and keep me as his obedient little maid.

I looked at the expensive, custom leather jacket he was wearing. I bought that for him. To afford it, I ate cheap instant noodles for three months and wore thrift store clothes with holes in the pockets.

Memories of the past three years flashed before my eyes like a mocking highlight reel. I remembered waking up at 5:00 AM every single day to meal-prep his strict athlete diet. I remembered kneeling on the freezing bathroom floor, massaging his bruised knees with ice packs after every brutal game while he complained about the pain. I even gave up a prestigious out-of-state design internship just so I could stay in Boston and "support his hockey dreams."

I gave him my youth, my sweat, and every penny I had. And in return, he thought my dignity could be bought with a few scraps of charity.

A bitter, raw laugh escaped my lips. "A win-win?" I whispered, shaking my head. "Trevor, you are truly the most disgusting, narcissistic piece of garbage I have ever met."

Before he could react, I reached up and violently unclasped the thin silver chain around my neck. The pendant—a tiny ice hockey puck engraved with our initials—was his first and only gift to me.

I threw it as hard as I could. The metal struck his cheekbone with a sharp smack before clattering onto the icy concrete.

Then, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the few crumpled twenty-dollar bills I had left, and threw them directly at his face. The bills fluttered down around him.

"Here," I sneered, my voice dripping with absolute contempt. "Consider that payment for your 'services' over the last three years. Though honestly, you weren't even worth that much. We're done."

Trevor stood frozen, staring at the scattered cash. His arrogant facade cracked, replaced instantly by a livid, bruised ego.

"You ungrateful bitch!" he snarled, his true colors finally showing. "You think you're so high and mighty? Look at you! Without me, you're nothing but a broke, pathetic orphan! Good luck finding anyone else who will put up with your depressing life!"

My phone chimed. A text from Sienna.

It was a photo. She was wearing Trevor's jersey, posing in front of the smashed anniversary cake on the floor, holding up a manicured middle finger. Caption: Thanks for the cake and the man, loser.

The grief I should have felt was instantly incinerated by white-hot rage.

I didn't give Trevor another glance. I blocked Sienna's number, blocked his, and walked away into the dark street. I didn't shed a single tear. Crying was a luxury for the weak, and I had exactly 71 hours left to save Hannah.

AVERY POV:

I sat in front of the laptop all night, the blue light burning my eyes.

I scrolled through countless job sites and forums. Waitressing, tutoring, barista gigs... the pay was a drop in the ocean compared to the hundreds of thousands of dollars the hospital needed.

I looked up student loans for medical school, even radical clinical trials. Nothing worked. I didn't qualify, or it would take too long.

Sunlight streamed through the window, but I felt no warmth. Only a deep, gnawing chill.

A heavy, impatient knock on my door shattered the morning silence.

I opened it, expecting my roommate. Instead, Trevor stood there. He looked slightly disheveled, holding a bouquet of cheap white roses from a corner store.

He didn't look remorseful. He looked annoyed.

"Finally," he grumbled, pushing past me into the apartment without an invitation. "Sienna is a nightmare in the morning. She doesn't even know how to use a coffee machine, and she complained about the sheets not being silk. I'm starving, Avery. Make me those blueberry pancakes I like."

He shoved the roses toward my chest. "Here. I bought you flowers. Now stop being dramatic and let's move on."

I stared at him, utterly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of this man.

He actually thought a bouquet of cheap gas-station flowers was enough to erase his betrayal. He expected me to just tie on an apron and cook for him, exactly like the obedient servant I had been for three years.

A fresh wave of nausea hit me. I snatched the roses from his hands.

"See? I knew you'd come around—" he started to smirk.

Snap.

I broke the stems in half and dumped the ruined flowers directly into the trash can by the door.

"I told you last night," I said, my eyes dead and hollow. "Keep the trash. Now get the hell out of my apartment before I call the cops."

Trevor's smirk vanished. His face flushed a dark, ugly red.

"Are you out of your mind?" he yelled, his voice echoing in the small room. "I swallowed my pride to come here and give you a way out! You have zero money, Avery! That old nanny of yours is probably taking her last breath right now! If you kick me out, who the hell is going to help you? You'll be crawling back to me on your knees by tomorrow!"

"I would rather watch you burn in hell than ever beg you for a single cent," I said, my voice eerily calm.

I shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him out into the hallway, and slammed the door in his face, locking the deadbolt.

He pounded on the door a few times, shouting curses, before finally stomping away.

But getting rid of a piece of garbage didn't solve my nightmare. The countdown was ticking. 48 hours left.

My hands trembled violently as I picked up my phone and dialed the one number I had sworn never to call.

Fiona Pierce. My adoptive mother.

The phone rang so long I thought she'd ignore it. Finally, she answered. The sound of clinking teacups and classical music played in the background.

"Avery?" Her voice was clipped, laced with extreme impatience. "Make it quick. I'm having morning tea with Mrs. Knight."

I swallowed my pride, crushing it into dust. "Mom... it's Hannah. Her liver failure is terminal. The hospital needs fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow for the transplant surgery. Please, I'm begging you. Can you and Dad help me?"

A long, chilling silence followed.

Then, Fiona let out a soft, elegant laugh that made my blood run cold.

"Fifty thousand dollars?" she mused, as if discussing the price of a cheap pair of shoes. "Avery, I just spent twice that amount on a custom diamond collar for my poodle. But for that old, useless nanny?"

Her voice suddenly dropped, sharp and merciless as a razor blade. "We took you in to boost the Pierce Group's charitable image. We paid for your tuition. That is where our 'generosity' ends. Hannah is a servant. Her cheap life isn't worth a single cent of my money."

"But she raised me!" I choked out, tears of pure desperation finally blurring my vision. "She's family!"

"She's a nobody!" Fiona snapped viciously. "And so are you. Remember your place, Avery. You are a stray dog we allowed into our yard. Dogs don't get to make demands."