Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes, slicing the room into strips of gold and shadow.

Mia was in the ensuite bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes. She looked exhausted, which was good. It fit the narrative.

Outside, in the main room, she heard the door open.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Julian. Again.

Mia dried her face and walked out. Julian was leaning against the doorframe, blocking the exit. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I was thinking," Julian said, stepping forward. "Lucas isn't going to wake up. We both know that. You're a smart girl. You signed a prenup that leaves you with nothing. But... if you make the right friends..."

He reached for her waist.

Mia didn't step back. She held up the doctor's phone.

She pressed play.

...Why won't you just die? Julian's voice filled the room, tinny but unmistakable.

Julian froze. His face went gray. "You bitch."

He lunged for the phone.

Mia side-stepped, smooth as water. "Don't bother," she said coldly. "I've already mirrored the file to a remote server via the hospital's guest network. If I don't punch in a kill-code every twelve hours, it gets emailed to your grandfather and the SEC."

Julian stopped. His hands curled into fists. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Mia tilted her head. "I'm a con artist, remember? That's what Howard told you. Do you want to gamble your inheritance on it?"

Julian stared at her, breathing hard. The lust in his eyes was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated hatred.

"Watch your back, Mia," he spat. He turned and slammed the door behind him.

Mia let out a breath she had been holding. Her knees felt weak. She wasn't afraid of Julian physically, but the constant vigilance was draining.

She turned to the bed to begin the morning muscle massages. It was crucial to keep Lucas's blood flowing.

She rolled up her sleeves and placed her hands on Lucas's biceps. They were hard, not atrophied.

Suddenly, she felt a tremor under her palms.

She looked up.

Lucas's eyes were open.

They were dark, the color of a stormy ocean, and they were staring directly at her. There was no confusion in them. Only violence.

"Who are you?"

His voice was a ruin-gravel and broken glass.

Before Mia could answer, his hand shot up. He grabbed her wrist.

His grip wasn't strong-his muscles were wasted from months of inactivity-but his technique was flawless. He twisted her radius, using leverage rather than brute force to lock her joint.

"Ah!" Mia gasped, trying to pull away.

Lucas used her momentum against her. He yanked, his body shaking with the effort, and Mia lost her balance.

Mia fell onto the bed, landing on his chest.

In a split second, his other hand was around her throat.

His fingers trembled against her skin, weak and fluttery, but the intent was lethal.

"Who sent you?" he rasped, his eyes burning. "Are you with the Russians?"

His memory was stuck in the accident. He thought he was still being ambushed.

Mia couldn't breathe. She clawed at his hand. She could have used a pressure point strike to his ulnar nerve to disable him instantly, but she couldn't expose her skills. Not yet.

"I'm... your... wife," she choked out.

Lucas's eyes narrowed. "Wife? I don't have a wife."

"Mia... Sterling."

The name acted like a bucket of ice water. Lucas's grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. Disgust curled his lip.

"Sterling?" he sneered. "Howard's daughter? That snake sold me his daughter?"

"He forced me," Mia gasped, inhaling greedily as his thumb moved off her windpipe. "Just like... he's trying to steal your company. Let go. Please."

Lucas stared at her. He scanned her face, looking for deception. He saw the fear in her eyes (genuine fear of being choked, mixed with the act).

His strength gave out. His arm collapsed, dropping heavily to the mattress. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, the momentary exertion draining his reserves completely.

"Get... water," he commanded.

Mia scrambled off the bed. She rubbed her neck. There would be bruises.

She poured a glass of water from the pitcher, her hands shaking. She brought it to his lips.

He drank greedily, water spilling down his chin.

When he finished, he looked at her. The aggression was dampened by exhaustion, but the suspicion remained.

"Don't think this makes us allies," he whispered, his voice fading as sleep dragged him back down. "I'll remove you... as soon as I can stand."

His eyes closed.

Mia stood there, holding the empty glass. She touched her throat.

"You're welcome," she said to the sleeping man.

Lucas slept for four hours. This time, it was a natural sleep, the restorative kind.

Mia paced the room. She had a dilemma. If she called the doctors now, the news of his awakening would spread. Julian would know. Katherine would know. The chaos would return.

But keeping a conscious patient hidden was dangerous.

She decided to wait. He needed to be stronger before he faced the sharks.

Around noon, Lucas stirred. He tried to sit up, but his core muscles failed him. He fell back with a groan of frustration.

Mia walked over. "Don't force it. Your muscles have been inactive for ninety days."

Lucas looked at her. The memory of choking her returned. He saw the faint red marks on her neck. He didn't apologize.

"Phone," he demanded. "I need my lawyer."

"No," Mia said calmly.

Lucas glared. "Excuse me?"

"You're legally incapacitated. If you call a lawyer now, the Board will freeze everything until a medical tribunal clears you. That takes weeks. In those weeks, Julian will liquidate the assets he's been targeting."

Lucas stopped. He processed this. His intelligence was intact.

"How do you know about Julian's targets?"

"I have ears," Mia said. "And your cousin is loud when he's drunk."

There was a knock at the door.

"Mrs. Kensington?" It was Ms. Ellis, the head housekeeper. "I'm coming in to sponge bath the Master."

Lucas's eyes widened in horror. He was naked under the sheets, weak, and helpless. The indignity of being bathed by a servant while conscious was unbearable to him.

"No!" Mia called out. "I mean... I'll do it. I'm already doing it. Leave the water outside."

"But Madam, it's my job..."

"I said leave it!" Mia injected a tone of imperious entitlement into her voice.

Ms. Ellis grumbled, but the sound of the basin being set down followed. Footsteps retreated.

Mia opened the door, grabbed the basin and towels, and locked it again.

She turned to Lucas. He looked like he wanted to murder someone.

"Don't look at me like that," Mia said, dipping a cloth into the warm water. "Would you prefer Ms. Ellis and her gossip circle knowing you're awake?"

Lucas grit his teeth. He turned his head away, staring at the wall. "Just get it over with."

Mia wrung out the cloth. She pulled the sheet down to his waist.

The air in the room shifted. It became thick, charged.

She wiped his chest. His skin was hot. Her fingers brushed against his pectorals.

Lucas flinched. His muscles rippled under her touch.

"Relax," Mia murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't like being touched," Lucas said tightly.

"I noticed." She moved the cloth down his abdomen. The definition of his abs was still visible, though softer than before.

Mia felt a strange heat in her own cheeks. She was a doctor. She had seen hundreds of naked bodies. But this was different. This was intimate.

Lucas was breathing harder. He wasn't just angry; he was reacting. His body was betraying him.

Mia quickly finished his upper body and covered him. "I'll do your legs."

She moved to the foot of the bed.

"Why?" Lucas asked suddenly.

Mia looked up, her hands on his shin. "Why what?"

"Why save me? Why protect me from Julian? You're a Sterling. You should be helping them pick my bones."

Mia paused. She thought of the photo in her sleeve. The baby with the crescent birthmark.

"Let's just say," Mia said, looking him in the eye, "I have a vested interest in the Kensington stock price remaining high."

Lucas studied her. He didn't believe her. "Everyone has a price, Mia. I'll find out yours."

"I'm sure you will." She finished drying his feet. "But until then, we're roommates."

Two days passed. Lucas was regaining strength rapidly. He could sit up and hold a cup. He spent his waking hours reading files Mia had surreptitiously downloaded from Julian's cloud account using the stolen phone. His rage grew with every page.

"He's trying to sell the robotics division," Lucas growled, throwing the phone onto the bed. "I need a secure terminal."

"I'll get it," Mia said. "But I need fresh air."

She left him fuming and walked out into the garden.

The estate was vast. She walked toward the pool house, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the sickroom.

She saw a commotion by the deep end of the Olympic-sized pool.

Three nannies were standing in a circle, looking at their phones and laughing.

A few yards away, a small boy sat on the edge of the pool.

Mia stopped. It was the boy from the photo. Or... no, this boy was older. Four or five. But the back of his neck...

She squinted. He was wearing a high-collared neoprene rash guard that covered his neck completely.

The boy was rocking back and forth. He was staring at the water, mesmerized by the ripples.

"Leo! Get back from there!" one nanny yelled, not looking up from her phone. "Stop being a creep!"

Leo didn't react. He leaned forward. Further. Further.

Gravity took over. He tipped silently into the water.

Splash.

He didn't surface. He didn't thrash. He just sank, like a stone.

The nannies screamed. "Oh god! He fell in!"

"I can't swim!" one yelled.

"Call security!"

Mia kicked off her heels. She didn't think. She sprinted across the lawn.

She dove.

The water was freezing. She opened her eyes, the chlorine stinging.

She saw him. A small bundle of clothes on the bottom of the pool. He was curled in a fetal position, eyes closed, accepting his fate.

Mia grabbed him. She kicked hard, propelling them to the surface.

She broke the water, gasping. She hauled Leo onto the tiles and scrambled out.

He was blue. Silent.

"Call Dr. Hamilton! Now!" Mia screamed at the useless nannies. "Get the medical team!"

She started compressions. Her hands, usually so steady for surgery, were trembling.

One, two, three, four...

"Come on, Leo. Come on."

She tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and breathed into his mouth.

His chest rose. Fell.

Nothing.

"Don't you dare die on me," she growled. Compress. Compress. Compress.

Mia's eyes darted to his neck. She reached for the zipper of his rash guard, desperate to loosen it for air, and perhaps to see the skin underneath.

Before she could pull the zipper down, water erupted from Leo's mouth. He gagged, choked, and let out a high, thin wail.

Mia collapsed back on her heels, tears streaming down her face. She pulled the soaking wet, coughing child into her arms.

"I've got you. I've got you."

Leo was shaking violently. He pushed against her chest, terrified. He hated touch. He hated strangers.

But then he looked at her face. He smelled the scent of her skin-no perfume, just soap and rain.

He stopped pushing. His small hands grabbed the wet fabric of her dress. He buried his face in her neck.

Katherine came running from the house, followed by Alfred.

"Leo!" Katherine shrieked. She reached for him. "Give him to me!"

Leo screamed. A sound of pure terror. He clung to Mia harder, wrapping his legs around her waist.

"No!" he rasped. His voice was rusty from disuse.

Katherine froze. "He... he spoke?"

Leo looked up at Mia. His eyes were wide, dark, and filled with a desperate, crushing recognition.

"Mommy?" he whispered.

The word hung in the air, heavier than the storm clouds.

Mia's heart stopped. She knew, logically, she wasn't his mother. Her baby was... somewhere else.

But looking into this broken, lonely child's eyes, something inside her shattered.

She smoothed his wet hair back. She didn't correct him.

"I'm here," she whispered. "Mommy's here."