Aria's consciousness slowly clawed its way back to the surface.

The first thing she registered was the dull, throbbing ache in her head. The second was the sharp, pinching sensation of an IV needle taped to the back of her left hand.

She forced her heavy eyelids open. A pristine white ceiling and soft, indirect lighting greeted her.

The sharp, chemical smell of hospital antiseptic filled her lungs, barely masked by a faint trace of lavender essential oil.

She turned her stiff neck. On the wooden nightstand beside her bed sat a plastic cup of water and a stack of unread newspapers.

The heavy door to the VIP room was cracked open just an inch. The hushed, urgent voices of two women drifted inside.

Aria held her breath. She lay perfectly still, straining her ears to understand her situation.

A sharp, nasal voice spoke first. "Did you see the front page of Page Six today? It's her again."

A second voice let out a low scoff. "How could I miss it? Mrs. Carlisle threw another psycho fit at the club last night."

The first nurse, Brenda, clicked her tongue. "She is completely deranged over Carter Vanderbilt. It's pathetic. She has absolutely no shame."

Hearing the words "Mrs. Carlisle" and "no shame" made Aria's chest tighten painfully. Her fingers automatically curled, gripping the thin hospital sheet until her knuckles turned white.

The conversation outside continued. Brenda detailed how Aria had stalked Carter and Clara, ruining their date like a rabid dog.

The second nurse sighed heavily. "I actually feel sorry for Julian Carlisle. Being married to a disaster like her must be the ultimate humiliation for his family."

Aria's brain worked frantically, stitching the nurses' gossip together with the horrific memory fragments from the club.

The reality of her situation settled over her like a suffocating blanket. To the entire world, she was a hysterical, malicious wife who was desperately trying to cheat on her husband.

A wave of intense, burning shame washed over her, followed instantly by a hot flash of rage. She wasn't angry at the nurses. She was furious at the parasitic system that had left her with this mess.

She needed to sit up. She pushed her weight onto her elbows.

A soft groan escaped her lips. The metal bed frame creaked loudly.

The voices outside the door stopped instantly.

A second later, Brenda pushed the door open. She walked in, a tight, professional smile plastered across her face. The smile didn't reach her cold eyes.

Brenda walked to the side of the bed. She tapped the IV bag, checking the drip rate without looking at Aria.

"Mrs. Carlisle. You're awake," Brenda said, her tone flat and dismissive. "How are you feeling?"

Aria stared at the poorly hidden disgust in the nurse's eyes. She swallowed hard, forcing moisture into her dry throat.

"I'm alive," Aria replied. Her voice was hoarse, but completely steady.

Brenda paused. Her hand hovered over the IV tube. She clearly expected the notorious Mrs. Carlisle to start screaming or throwing things.

Brenda dropped her fake smile. She switched to a rigid, business-like tone. "Your husband has been notified. He is currently on his way."

The word "husband" made Aria's stomach twist into a hard knot.

She gave a single, curt nod. She didn't demand to see Carter. She didn't throw a tantrum.

Brenda frowned, clearly unsettled by the calm reaction. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Aria waited until the door clicked shut. She reached over and ripped the glowing pulse oximeter off her index finger.

Ignoring the wave of dizziness, she stretched her arm out and grabbed the top newspaper from the nightstand.

She grabbed the top newspaper. Who would leave this here? The answer was obvious. It was a message from her husband. A reminder of the mess she was in, and exactly who held the power to clean it up.

The front page of Page Six stared back at her. A massive, high-definition photo showed her face twisted in a snarl, her hand raised to strike Carter. The headline was printed in massive, bold letters.

Aria stared at the photo for a long moment. Then, she crushed the newspaper in her hands, twisting the paper until it tore. She threw the crumpled ball into the trash can.

Her eyes hardened. She had to find a way to survive this.