"Arrest her," I told the two detectives.

Before the taller officer could uncap his pen, the heavy wooden door slammed against the wall.

Leonard rushed into the room.

My boyfriend of two years. He wore a rumpled navy suit, his silk tie hanging loose around his collar. Three older men and two women trailed right behind him. They moved with a synchronized arrogance, draped in expensive cashmere and tailored wool.

"Sylvia!" Leonard hurried to the edge of my mattress. "The hospital called me as your emergency contact. What are you doing in this wing?"

I stared at his familiar face. "Leonard? Who are these people?"

"My family," he blurted out.

The Thorne family.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Leonard Thorne. He had hidden his real last name from me for two years. He told me he was a mid-level accountant.

"You are Julian's brother," I stated, my voice completely flat.

"We can talk about my background later," Leonard deflected, waving a dismissive hand. "Why are you in a hospital gown? Did you get into a wreck too?"

He had no idea. The sheer ignorance on his features was genuine.

"I was kidnapped, Leonard," I said. "By Vivian Mercer."

An older woman at the foot of my bed—Beatrice, if I remembered the society pages correctly—scoffed loudly. "Do not be ridiculous. Vivian is on television right now. She just saved Julian's life."

"She drained my blood in a basement!" I yelled, pointing at the screen. "She stole it to fake a rescue!"

Leonard frowned, his brow furrowing. "Sylvia, that makes no sense. Vivian is a respected socialite. Why would she target you?"

"Because Julian looked at me at your charity gala last month," I spat. "The gala you brought me to. The one where you introduced me as your 'colleague'."

Leonard flinched. The lie hung in the air between us.

A rapid code-blue alarm suddenly shrieked through the hallway intercom.

Dr. Aris shoved past Beatrice, his face pale and slick with sweat.

"Mr. Lucius is hemorrhaging," the doctor announced. "His internal surgical stitches ruptured. His pressure is dropping fast."

Leonard turned white. "My grandfather? But the surgeon said he was stable!"

"He needs another transfusion," Dr. Aris urged. "Immediately. But the blood bank is completely out of the mutated O-negative."

The entire room went dead silent.

Five heads turned slowly toward my bed.

"Sylvia," Leonard started, his tone dropping into a pleading register. "You have the match."

I yanked my bandaged arm against my chest. "No."

"It is just a little blood," Beatrice insisted. She stepped closer to the mattress, her diamond rings catching the harsh fluorescent light. "We will pay you. Name your price. A million dollars."

"I do not want your money!" I glared at the woman. "I have nothing left to give."

Leonard grabbed the metal bedrail. "Sylvia, please. Lucius is the head of our family. He will die without it."

"I will die if I give it!" I fired back.

"Do not exaggerate," an older man in a tweed coat—Arthur—snapped. "A healthy adult can spare a few pints. You look perfectly fine."

"I am in hypovolemic shock!" I pointed at the heart monitor next to me. "Look at the machine. Look at my bandages."

Leonard reached out, attempting to grab my hand.

I slapped his fingers away.

"Do not touch me."

"Sylvia, stop being selfish." Leonard’s voice sharpened, shedding its warm facade. "My grandfather is bleeding out down the hall. We need you."

"Vivian took half the blood in my body last night," I explained, enunciating every single word. "My bone marrow is permanently damaged. If I lose one more drop, my organs will shut down."

The elders exchanged skeptical glances.

"Dr. Aris," Leonard demanded. "Is she telling the truth?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses. "Her condition is highly critical. Another draw would be instantly fatal."

"Then just take half a pint," Beatrice bargained. "Just enough to stabilize Lucius until the helicopter brings the reserve supply from out of state."

"Sylvia, you always said you wanted to help people," Leonard pressed, stepping closer. "You stopped for that fender bender last night. You have a good heart. Do not turn cold now."

"My empathy is a liability," I quoted Vivian, staring right through him. "I learned my lesson."

"You are punishing my grandfather for Vivian's crime!" Leonard shouted.

"I am surviving!" I yelled back.

I let out a sharp, grating laugh.

Tears should have fallen, but my eyes remained completely dry. The sheer absurdity of the situation stripped away my fear.

"You people are insane," I chuckled, the sound hollow and foreign. "Your grandfather's life is worth more than mine?"

"Yes," Leonard answered.

He did not even hesitate.

The two years we spent together, the late-night dinners, the talks about our future—all of it evaporated in a single syllable.

My jaw tightened. "Get out of my room."

"Sylvia, I am begging you." Leonard dropped to his knees on the cold linoleum floor. "I will marry you tomorrow. I will buy you that house by the lake. I will give you anything. Just save him."

"No."

Arthur stepped forward, his face twisting into an ugly scowl. "We are done asking."

He nodded to the two burly men standing by the door. Bodyguards.

"Hold her down," Arthur ordered. "Doctor, get the needle."

Dr. Aris backed away, holding his hands up. "I will not participate in this. It is murder."

"Then I will do it myself," Beatrice declared, grabbing a sterile kit from the plastic counter.

The two bodyguards marched toward my bed.

Dr. Aris tried to block their path. "You cannot do this! She is a patient!"

One of the guards shoved the doctor aside. Dr. Aris crashed into a tray of surgical instruments, sending metal clattering across the tiles.

The second guard reached out and clamped a heavy hand over my injured elbow.

Pain exploded up my shoulder. I screamed, thrashing against his grip.

"Hold her still!" Beatrice commanded, ripping the plastic wrapper off a large syringe.

I kicked my legs, driving my heel into the guard's stomach. He grunted but kept his grip firm. My IV line tore out of my right hand. Clear fluid spilled across the sheets, mixing with a fresh drop of crimson.

"Leonard!" I shrieked. "Stop them!"

Leonard stood by the window. He looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey!" The taller detective finally stepped forward, his hand resting on his holstered weapon. "Back away from the patient. Now."

"This is Thorne family business," Leonard argued, turning to face the officer. "Look the other way. We will double your pension."

"I said back up." The detective drew his gun, aiming it squarely at the bodyguard holding my arm. "Release her, or I will put a bullet in your leg."

The guard hesitated. He glanced at Arthur, then slowly opened his hand, taking a step back.

I curled into a tight ball, cradling my throbbing arm against my chest. My breathing came in ragged gasps.

The code-blue alarm continued to wail in the background, a relentless reminder of the ticking clock.

Leonard stared at me, his eyes dark and desperate. "You are really going to let him die?"

"You let Vivian drain me," I replied, my voice turning to ice. "We are even."

A nurse sprinted into the room, panting heavily.

"Dr. Aris!" she shouted. "Mr. Lucius went into full cardiac arrest. But..."

She trailed off, looking nervously at the Thorne family.

"But what?" Leonard yelled.

"Vivian Mercer just walked into his ICU room," the nurse stammered. "She brought another cooler of blood."