City General Hospital. The smells were different here than at the private clinic. More bleach, more desperation.

Seraphina lay on the examination table in the VIP wing of the Obstetrics department. Zoe was looking at a file, her brow furrowed.

We have a problem, Zoe said.

Seraphina sat up, clutching her paper gown. What is it? Can't we do the procedure?

Zoe turned the clipboard around. You are Rh-negative, Sera. O-negative blood type.

I know that. So?

And your uterine lining is incredibly thin, Zoe continued. It's likely due to stress and... well, genetics.

Zoe took a deep breath. If we perform a surgical abortion now, with your blood type and the condition of your uterus, the risk of scarring is extremely high. You might develop antibodies that would attack future pregnancies.

She looked Seraphina in the eye. If you terminate this pregnancy, there is an eighty percent chance you will never be able to carry a child again. And the procedure itself... you could hemorrhage.

The room went silent. The hum of the air conditioner sounded like a roar.

Seraphina put her hand on her stomach. Never?

Zoe nodded. As your doctor, I advise against it. As your friend... I will support whatever you choose. But you need to know the cost.

Seraphina closed her eyes. She hated Julian. She hated what he had done. But the thought of never being a mother? The thought of this being her only chance?

Her phone buzzed on the side table. She glanced at it, expecting another threat from Julian. Instead, it was a low balance alert from her bank. Her account was overdrawn by twenty dollars. The monthly maintenance fee had hit.

She stared at the red numbers. $ -20.00.

She was completely broke. She had rejected the settlement. She had no job. She had a baby on the way that she couldn't afford to feed, let alone raise.

But then she remembered the email she had drafted weeks ago. The submission to Project: Ethereal. She had hesitated to send it because of Julian. Because he hated her music.

"I have talent," she whispered to herself. "I can write."

She looked at the ultrasound monitor. The screen was black and gray. There, in the center, was a tiny, pulsing flicker of white light.

The heartbeat.

It wasn't Julian's mistake. It was her miracle.

I'm keeping it, Seraphina whispered.

Zoe let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for ten minutes. Thank god.

But, Zoe warned, pulling out a prescription pad. You are high risk. Extremely high risk. You need absolute bed rest. No stress. No shouting. No emotional shocks.

Seraphina took the prescription. I'm leaving New York. I'll go to Europe. Or anywhere cheap. Anywhere far.

Good, Zoe said. Go now. Don't go back to the penthouse.

Seraphina put on her coat. She pulled her hat low. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the exam room toward the elevators.

She pressed the down button.

The elevator doors dinged and slid open.

A wall of noise hit her.

Flashbulbs popped like strobe lights. A dozen people with cameras and microphones spilled out of the elevator cars.

Harper West is on the 4th floor! someone shouted. Julian Sterling just parked his car!

Seraphina backed away, shielding her face. She was on the 3rd floor. They were heading up.

She ducked into the stairwell door just as the mob rushed past. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She was trapped. The press was swarming the building. If she went out the front, they would see her. If she stayed, Julian might see her.

She looked at the stairwell. Down was blocked by security guards managing the press. Up was the oncology ward where Harper was.

She checked her phone. Breaking News: Harper West condition critical. Julian Sterling arrives at City General.

She leaned against the concrete wall, feeling dizzy. The smell of dust and concrete filled her nose. She had to get out. She had to protect the baby.

She decided to wait. Wait for the storm to pass. But then the door above her opened. Footsteps echoed on the metal stairs.

One floor up. The Oncology VIP suite.

Harper West sat up in bed. She was checking her makeup in a compact mirror. She added a touch more pale powder to her cheeks.

The IV drip next to her was flowing steadily. It was saline and vitamins. Nothing else.

She scrolled through Twitter on her phone. PrayForHarper was the number one trending topic worldwide.

She clicked on a video. It was an interview she had given yesterday. I don't want to ruin anyone's marriage, she sobbed on screen. I just want to say goodbye to my best friend.

The comments were vicious.

Seraphina Sterling is a monster for keeping them apart.

If Harper dies, it's on Seraphina's hands.

Harper smiled. It was a small, tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.

The door opened. Her private nurse walked in.

Miss West, the nurse whispered. The doctor... he says your ulcer is healed. The scans are clean. He wants to discharge you.

Harper didn't scream. She didn't throw anything. She simply turned her head slowly to look at the nurse. Her eyes were dry and incredibly cold.

"Is that so?" Harper whispered. She picked up her phone and tapped the screen. She held it up. It was a draft email addressed to the Hospital Board of Directors.

"If I am discharged," Harper said, her voice soft and sweet, "I will tweet that this hospital neglected a dying woman because she wouldn't pay a bribe. I have twenty million followers. How long do you think your career will last?"

The nurse paled.

"I need to be sick for another month," Harper said. "Fix the charts. Or I fix your life."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a checkbook. She scribbled a number. A big number. She tore the check out and let it flutter to the floor at the nurse's feet.

"Consulting fee," Harper said.

The nurse bent down, shaking, and picked up the check.

Footsteps approached from the hallway. Heavy, hurried strides.

Harper threw herself back against the pillows. She let out a low moan, clutching her stomach.

Julian burst into the room. He saw Harper writhing in pain.

Harper! He rushed to her side. What happened?

I... I tried to get water, Harper gasped. My hands... so weak. I'm useless, Julian. I'm just a burden.

No, Julian said fiercely. He stroked her hair. You are fighting.

Harper buried her face in his chest. She inhaled the scent of his expensive cologne.

Julian, she whispered. Take me downstairs. To the garden. Please. I need fresh air. This room smells like death.

Julian hesitated. The press is downstairs, Harper.

I don't care, she said, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. Let them see. I'm not ashamed of loving you. I want to see the sun one last time.

It was a line from a movie. Julian didn't know that. He just saw a dying woman's wish.

Okay, he said.

He lifted her into the wheelchair. He grabbed a blanket and tucked it around her legs.

Harper slipped her hand into her pocket and tapped out a text to the paparazzo she had hired. Coming down now. Elevator B.

Julian pushed the wheelchair into the hall. They waited for the elevator.

The doors opened. They stepped in. Julian pressed the button for the Lobby.

The descent was smooth.

When the doors opened on the ground floor, the lobby was chaos. Security was trying to hold back the line of reporters.

And right there, in the center of the lobby, trying to weave through the crowd toward the exit, was a woman in a black coat and a hat.

Seraphina.

Julian stopped the wheelchair.

Seraphina looked up. Her eyes met his.

For a second, the world stopped.

Then, a reporter shouted. Is that the wife?

The mob turned. The cameras swung around. Flashbulbs exploded like fireworks.

The light was blinding. Seraphina threw her hand up to cover her eyes, her other arm instinctively crossing over her stomach.

Mrs. Sterling! Why are you here?

Are you here to confront the dying woman?

Have you no shame?

The questions were shouted like accusations. Microphones were thrust into her face, nearly hitting her.

Julian stood frozen by the elevator. He saw Seraphina being swarmed. He saw the fear in her posture. Instinct kicked in. He took a step forward, his mouth opening to shout at the reporters to back off.

Harper saw his movement. Her eyes narrowed.

Ah! Harper screamed.

It was a piercing shriek. She threw herself forward out of the wheelchair. She hit the floor with a thud.

My stomach! Harper wailed, curling into a ball. Julian! It hurts!

Julian spun around. He dropped to his knees beside her. Harper!

Harper pointed a shaking finger at Seraphina. She... she pushed past me... she looked at me with such hate...

It was a lie. Seraphina was twenty feet away. But the implication was clear. She caused this stress. She caused this pain.

The reporters went feral.

Murderer!

She attacked her!

Julian looked up at Seraphina. His eyes were black with rage.

Get out of here! he roared. Haven't you done enough?

Seraphina lowered her hand. She looked at the man she had loved for three years. He was cradling the woman who was faking cancer, screaming at his pregnant wife.

I was just leaving, Seraphina said. Her voice was barely audible over the noise.

She turned to go. But the crowd had surged forward, blocking her path. The reporters were pushing, trying to get a shot of Harper on the floor.

"Move!" Julian shouted. He stood up, desperate to get Harper back into the elevator. He shoved his way through the press, his shoulder leading like a battering ram.

Seraphina was in his way. She was trying to back up, but she was hemmed in by the cameras.

Julian didn't see her face. He only saw an obstacle between him and safety for Harper. He extended his arm and shoved hard to clear the path.

"Move aside!"

His hand connected with Seraphina's shoulder. It wasn't a gentle push. It was the force of a desperate man.

Seraphina gasped. The floor was polished marble. And nearby, a janitor's bucket had been knocked over in the chaos.

Her feet slipped on the wet stone.

She fell backward.

Time seemed to slow down. Seraphina saw the ceiling lights spinning. She felt gravity take hold.

Julian saw it happen. He saw her feet go out from under her. He surged upward, reaching out his hand to catch her. He was close enough. He could reach her.

Julian! Harper screamed again, grabbing his pant leg with a vice-like grip. Don't leave me! I'm dying!

Julian looked down. He hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.

That fraction was enough.

Seraphina hit the floor.

Her lower back struck the sharp metal corner of the reception desk with a sickening crack. Then she hit the ground.

She didn't scream. She just made a soft, exhaling sound.