I wheeled my chair like a woman possessed, straight for Dr. Calloway's office.

I slammed through his door. He was reading a chart.

"Clara? What's wrong? You look—"

I grabbed the lapel of his white coat. My voice wouldn't hold steady.

"My surgery. Is it still happening?"

He paused. His eyes wouldn't quite meet mine.

"Your indicators need a little more observation. The risk is substantial—"

My heart dropped through the floor.

"It's Sienna, isn't it? It's her father. Isn't it?"

I was yelling.

Dr. Calloway sighed and touched my shoulder.

"Calm down. Professor Harrington has spoken to me, yes. But from a pure clinical standpoint—the success rate, as things stand, is—"

"Excuses. All of you—excuses!"

I shoved him off. My tears broke loose.

"You all want to see me die. All of you are pushing me."

I wheeled out of his office.

Nurses in the corridor stared. I didn't care.

I just needed out of there. Out of that suffocating, shining place.

I pushed my chair hard and kept pushing until I found myself by the ornamental lake in the back garden.

The water was black and deep. A mouth ready to swallow anything.

I looked at the reflection in the surface. A haggard woman, hollowed out, no life left in her.

The Clara who used to own a stage was already dead.

I was a body without a soul.

I unclipped my safety strap and, with everything I had left in my arms, tipped myself out of the chair into the cold water.

The water closed over my head. I couldn't breathe.

I didn't fight it. I let myself go down.

Let it end. I was tired.

My mind was going gray when a hand locked around my arm and hauled me up.

I broke the surface gasping and coughing, sucking down air in great rough heaves.

"Clara! Have you lost your mind?"

Julian. Raw, furious. Voice half-cracked.

I opened my eyes. He was soaking wet, eyes red as blood.

"Let me—let me go..." I tried to twist free.

He crushed me against his chest. His grip was unrelenting, like he was trying to press me into his own bones.

"I will not let you die. Do you hear me? I will not."

There was a tremor in his voice. Something he wasn't letting out.

I went limp against his chest and closed my eyes.

*Julian, what do you even want from me? You don't want me—so why are you saving me?*

When I came around next, I was in a hospital bed.

Dr. Calloway was examining me. He saw me open my eyes and exhaled.

"You scared the hell out of everyone. You nearly died."

I stared at the ceiling.

"Why did you save me?"

He sighed.

"Mr. Blackwood pulled you out. He was in the water a long time, looking for you. He almost drowned."

I laughed, short and bitter.

"He was putting on a show. For whom? Was he worried he'd take a manslaughter charge?"

The door opened. Julian walked in.

He'd changed clothes. His face was still bloodless.

Dr. Calloway stepped out quietly.

Julian crossed to the bedside and stood over me.

"What are you trying to do? Threaten me with death?"

I turned my face to the wall.

"I just don't want to suffer anymore. Let me go. Let yourself go."

He seized my chin and turned my face to his, hard.

"Let you go? Not a chance. Your life belongs to me. You don't get to choose when it ends."

I looked up and saw something unhinged in his eyes, and I didn't recognize him at all.

"Do you love me or don't you?" My voice was small.

He froze. His eyes flickered.

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

"Because you don't."

I gave a cracked little smile.

"You love yourself. You keep me around because you like controlling things."

"You don't—" He yanked his hand back like I'd burned him. "Don't be ungrateful. I—for you—"

He stopped. He didn't finish.

"For me what?"

He took a long, steadying breath and rebuilt the cold on his face.

"Nothing. Rest. I'll be back tomorrow."

He left the room fast. Like someone fleeing something.

I watched the door swing shut.

He was hiding something from me. I could feel it.

But I had no idea what.