"Ah!" It finally dawned on Lindsay just what she had grabbed, and embarrassment jolted her into motion. She hastily withdrew her hand and sprang to her feet, hurriedly retreating to create some distance.

Her clumsy movements sent the chair skittering across the floor, and her hand swiped dangerously close to toppling a tray of instruments.

Before disaster struck, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly to a stop.

A husky, teasing voice sounded right at her ear. "Trying to trash my office, are you?"

A fierce blush crept up Lindsay's cheeks. Tears of embarrassment shimmered in her unfocused eyes as she fumbled for words, lashes fluttering. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Anthony looked down at the woman pressed awkwardly against him. She felt impossibly soft and delicate, as if a single careless move might shatter her. He felt an odd restlessness stir inside, something he'd never expected.

Moments earlier, he had forced himself to stay perfectly still, terrified any sudden movement might cause further damage to her injured eyes. But now, with her pressed close, warmth spread through him, making his heart stutter in his chest. This didn't make any sense. Normally, he wouldn't feel a thing for a patient. What was wrong with him?

A ridiculous thought flashed through Anthony's mind—had someone spiked his morning coffee? He found himself actually wondering if that could be the case.

Anthony's brows drew together in a deep frown. He was about to let go of her when something caught his eye—a small, vivid red birthmark just behind her ear.

It matched the mark on the little girl who had pulled him from the brink all those years ago, right after he had been kidnapped. The mark was shaped like a crescent moon. Could this woman—blind and trembling before him—really be the one who'd saved his life years back?

Stunned, Anthony leaned in, trying to get a better look.

But Lindsay slipped from his grasp, backing until her back met the wall. "Dr. Dixon, how soon will you have the results?"

He watched her in silence, studying her face for a long moment before closing the gap between them with two purposeful steps. His presence brought a chill to the room, the air around him turning sharp.

"Your eyes have been damaged for three years. Why the sudden rush for the test results now?" he asked.

Lindsay dropped her gaze, fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. She had no allies, no power. Confronting Matthew and Kyra alone would be suicide. Still, she'd made her decision. "I'd like to strike a deal, Dr. Dixon." Her words came out steady, a strange sense of peace settling over her as she found her way to the nearest chair.

Her eyes were unfocused, but Anthony could still see it—the fierce, unyielding determination burning behind those clouded eyes.

Intrigued, he folded his arms and took the seat across from her, waiting to hear just what kind of bargain she intended to propose.

"Help me get my sight back, and I'll help you bring down the Riley Group." The words tumbled out, her voice trembling slightly. As she uttered Riley Group, her pulse raced, and shadows darkened her features.

"Why would you think I have any interest in your proposal? I don't even get involved in my own family's power games—what makes you think I want to take on the Riley family? If you're here as a patient, my obligation is only to your eyes. Anything else is your problem. Unless, of course, you have something a little more tempting to offer."

He studied the woman sitting across from him, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. He couldn't believe for a second that Lindsay truly meant to team up against the Riley family. Rumors had painted her as blindly and hopelessly in love with Matthew for years.

Anthony leaned back, his interest fading, his face smoothing back into polite indifference. His tone returned to the chilly professionalism from before. "Mrs. Riley, your initial examination meets surgical requirements. Come back on Monday for a second assessment, and we'll finalize the details. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to see."

"Alright. Thank you, Dr. Dixon. Please keep this visit private." She hadn't expected to sway him on her first try.

Rising, Lindsay used the wall to guide her way to the door and then slipped quietly into the hallway.

The instant she left, Anthony pulled out his phone and called the private detective he'd hired. "Any progress on the person I've asked you to look for?"

The voice on the other end sounded hesitant. "It's been years. It's hard to trace."

"I'll send you a new lead. Look into this woman—find out if she was anywhere near the scene of my kidnapping when she was a child. And while you're at it, dig into Matthew Riley's background." With that, Anthony ended the call.

His eyes drifted to the passport photo attached to Lindsay's file, and his expression gave nothing away. If she truly turned out to be the little girl who'd saved his life all those years ago, he would move heaven and earth to protect her—no matter what it cost him.

Lindsay trailed her fingers along the wall for a long while, her cheeks still flushed with lingering embarrassment.

Before everything had fallen apart, Lindsay had often accompanied Matthew to society galas and exclusive dinners, where she'd crossed paths with Anthony more than once. Every encounter had been strained, electric with unspoken tension. No matter the situation, she'd always stood by Matthew and confronted Anthony.

Looking back now, Lindsay felt it seemed fate had a wicked sense of humor.

The memory of what her hand had grabbed moments earlier sent another wave of heat rushing up her neck.

She covered her face with one hand, mortified, then forced herself to breathe and pulled her collapsible white cane from her bag. Instead of calling Vera to guide her, she steadied herself and followed the path stored in her memory, tapping her way toward the ninth‑floor VIP burn unit.

When Lindsay reached her brother's hospital room, she thanked the nurse quietly, waited until the footsteps faded, and then eased into the chair by the bed. The steady rhythm of the monitors filled the silence, and her nose stung as tears threatened to spill.

Years back, when the fire had swept through the Gordon estate, her brother, Louis Gordon, had barely survived the flames since he had been lounging in the bathtub at that time. He had been pulled out alive, but the massive dust inhalation had left him in a coma ever since.

Lindsay reached out and wrapped her fingers around her brother's hand, tracing the skin that had been rebuilt over endless surgeries. The rough scars of old burns had faded, replaced by smooth grafts that barely hinted at what he'd endured.

Two years ago, outside the operating room, Matthew had stayed by her side, patient and calm, when she had struggled to hold herself together. "Linds, your brother's burns are severe, and infection is a constant threat. We can't afford to wait for him to wake before we operate. I've found the best surgeons. I promise, I won't let you lose your brother too."

She had agreed. Since she had become unable to see any of it for herself, he had described each surgery performed on her brother, every new graft, every faint sign of healing, turning every sliver of progress into hope she could cling to.

For three long years, she had clung to every word he had uttered. She had assumed his profound love for her had been the reason behind his insistence on marrying her after her family's downfall, that he had pulled her out of the darkest moments in her life out of concern, and that she could lean on him without hesitation.

But the bitter truth was that the man she thought had rescued her was the very source of her worst memories.

He had planned every gesture with one goal in mind—he wanted her grateful and devoted, so she would never dig into her family's tragedies. He was utterly unscrupulous and shameless.

Her grip on Louis' hand tightened before she even realized it.

Louis's fingers gave the slightest twitch in return.

A rush of hope spilled through her. "Louis!" she called his name again and again, yet he remained still. The steady rhythm of the machine never shifted.

Unable to hold back anymore, Lindsay pressed her face against the back of his hand while sobs tore at her throat. "I promise I'll avenge our family. Kyra and Matthew won't escape what they did," she whispered between sobs.

She stayed beside him for a long while before she forced herself to step away.

Once she reached the corridor outside the emergency room, she pulled out her phone to call Vera.

Just as she was about to hit the button, a voice she recognized swept through the corridor.

"Matthew, please don't be mad at me. I intended it as a surprise. Aren't you happy that I returned a little earlier than schedule?"

The phone slipped out of Lindsay's grasp, bouncing loudly against the floor. Shock opened her unseeing eyes wide. No mistaking it—she knew that voice anywhere. Kyra was back.

Although Kyra's tone had dropped, the way she sang her words was something Lindsay could never forget.

"Miss, you dropped this. Are you okay? Do you want some help?" A gentle hand picked up Lindsay's phone and returned it to her.

Lindsay grabbed it quickly, heart pounding so hard that it hurt. Hugging the wall for support, she shuffled her way to the stairwell, backed into a corner, and tried to steady her frantic breathing.

Meanwhile, inside one of the small ER rooms, Matthew let Kyra cling to him, patting her back dotingly.

"Ever thought about my feelings if something serious had happened to you? You should have called me as soon as you landed. Don't just hop in a cab next time. I'm glad you only got a little banged up. Is your head still hurting? Here, let me carry you to the bed. You're not going anywhere until the test results are back."

Though his words were strict, he spoke to her with real concern.

The nurse sorting through a tray of supplies glanced up, recognized Matthew, and offered a smile. "Mr. Riley, you and your wife look so loving together."

Matthew faltered for a heartbeat, and Kyra, dressed in her thin hospital gown, looped her arms around his neck with a bashful grin. "Of course, we are," she answered as she nestled against him. "My husband cares about me more than anything."

Three years of restraint shattered in a single instant, and Matthew's voice slipped into a low, heated rumble. "Not now, babe."

Back in the stairwell, Lindsay stayed rooted in place, biting her lip so hard that the taste of iron filled her mouth. Every gentle gesture Matthew had ever given her twisted inside her like thorns tearing through skin. The pain kept building.

The whole thing seemed absurd to Lindsay. If Matthew adored Kyra that deeply, why had he walked into the Gordon home and offered marriage to her instead? When had their affair even begun? Had Matthew been at the Gordon residence on that fateful day, watching her family die in the flames?

Cold dread crept through her limbs. Her breath hitched as the rising panic tightened around her neck like a vise.

Once Vera clocked out and came to pick Lindsay up, Lindsay had already buried every trace of emotion beneath a calm mask.

Lindsay settled into the passenger seat. She kept the window down, the rush of air scraping at her cheeks while her thoughts twisted and tangled inside her chest.

"Vera, let's hit a bar tonight," Lindsay abruptly suggested.

The car jerked, tires scraping along the edge of the curb.

Vera quickly steadied the car, regaining her composure. "Hitting a bar? Is everything okay?"

Lindsay turned her empty gaze to her friend. "Vera, do you also think that without my sight, I cannot be the Lindsay I used to be?"

Vera's chest tightened. Only three years had slipped by, yet sometimes, it felt impossible to remember the Lindsay from before.

Before, Lindsay had sparkled with energy. She had never shied away from anything, always living with her heart wide open. But that fearless woman had vanished the night of the fire.

The past three years had witnessed Lindsay withdraw into a shadow of her former self. She had retreated into a world revolving around Matthew, clinging to him as if he were the only thing left.

Vera sometimes wondered if Lindsay could keep breathing if Matthew ever left her side.

Sensing Vera's hesitation, Lindsay turned back toward the window. The wind whipped across her skin, and for just a second, she almost believed she could see everything rushing by outside.

Lindsay said slowly, "I visited Louis earlier. For three years, I couldn't bring myself to visit him, and now everything inside me feels scraped raw. I need something strong to take the edge off. People say a drink can quiet the things that hurt, right? And I want to start learning how to move through the world again. When we get to the bar, don't hover over me like I can't stand on my own."

Lindsay's tone carried a strange sense of acceptance, as if she had already made peace with the weight she'd been carrying.

Something about Lindsay felt different to Vera. She couldn't name it, but she wished with all her heart that Lindsay would finally step beyond her little world and reclaim the life waiting for her.

Vera replied, "Then we're going all out tonight until we can't stand anymore!"

Star Club pulsed with energy near the university. Youngsters filled every corner, and the place kept things polished without letting chaos slip in.

That bar had once been frequented by Vera and Lindsay. Not a single detail had changed since those days.

The two of them slid into a booth tucked away in the corner.

Music and alcohol surged through the room, waking up pieces of people they thought were gone forever.

Lindsay's face slowly gained more color. After downing a few fruit cocktails, she rose from her seat and said, "Restroom."

Vera made a move to follow, but Lindsay waved her off.

The restroom was down a straight hall at the end, a route Lindsay could walk even without her cane.

A while later, Lindsay finished washing her hands when Kyra's voice drifted in from outside the door. "Why drag me to this dump to relive old times? This place is crawling with college kids."

A jolt shot through Lindsay. As footsteps echoed down the hall, in blind panic, she darted across to the other side and crashed through the door marked for men's restroom.

She flung the door shut behind her, only to stumble into the broad warmth of someone's chest. Raising a trembling finger to her lips, she silently begged for quiet.

Sandalwood lingered in the air, soothing her nerves even as her mind scrambled.

"Anthony, is that you?" she whispered.

Just then, Matthew's voice came from just beyond the door. "Kyra, stay at the entrance when we're finished. Don't go wandering off."

This sent a new rush of fear through Lindsay. Instinct took over, and she grabbed the man in front of her, hauling him into the nearest stall with her.

Inside the cramped stall, their bodies pressed close. Desperate to keep him silent, she clapped a hand over his mouth, tiptoed, and whispered right by his ear, "Please. Not a word."

Anthony had more than a few drinks in him. The steady, measured control he kept at work started slipping away. With Lindsay so close, something electric stirred beneath his skin.

Without thinking, he pulled her close, his arm circling her waist. Shadows played across her face, and in that uncertain light, her eyes sparked with a wild blend of fear and defiance.

Anthony dipped his head. Lindsay instinctively shrank back, not daring to make any noise that might give them away.

As her hand brushed his chest, she felt muscles tense beneath her palm. In her attempt to dodge him, her lips brushed his Adam's apple by accident.

A sharp breath escaped him, rough around the edges.

With every passing second inside the cramped stall, her nerves stretched thin. Her brow knotted, and she shot him a warning in a low, urgent whisper. "Anthony, don't mess around!"

He drank in her distress, an almost playful glint in his eyes as he drew her even nearer. "You're hiding out in here while your husband's mistress is waiting outside? Or are you under orders from Matthew to cozy up to me?"

The memory of the detective's report flashed through Anthony's mind, darkening his gaze. His fingers found her neck, sweeping her hair aside until the red crescent birthmark stood out against her skin. That shape matched the memory etched in his mind. He couldn't deny it now. Lindsay was truly the little girl who had saved him years ago.