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.

The sound of the impact silenced the lobby.

Seraphina lay curled on the cold marble. Her hat had fallen off, revealing her pale face. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her hands were clutched tightly around her abdomen.

Zoe burst out of the stairwell door. She saw Seraphina on the floor.

Sera! Zoe screamed.

She ran, shoving reporters aside. She slid to her knees beside her friend.

Julian pulled his leg free from Harper's grip. He stood up, staring at Seraphina. He took a step forward.

Is she... is she okay? he stammered.

Seraphina let out a whimper. It was a sound of pure agony.

Then, Julian saw it.

A dark stain was spreading across the light gray fabric of Seraphina's jeans. It was growing fast. Crimson. Thick.

Blood.

It pooled on the white marble floor, bright and terrifying.

Julian felt like he had been punched in the gut. He couldn't breathe.

Zoe looked at the blood. Her face went gray.

Gurney! Now! Zoe screamed at the hospital staff. Code Blue! Internal Hemorrhage!

The words hit Julian like a hammer.

Hemorrhage?

He stumbled forward. He grabbed Zoe's shoulder. What did you say? Why is she bleeding like that? Is it her stomach?

Zoe slapped his hand away. She stood up, her white coat stained with Seraphina's blood. She looked at him with pure hatred.

"Get away from her!" Zoe yelled. "You did this! Look at what you did!"

She didn't say it. She didn't say "baby." She didn't say "pregnant." She just looked at the blood and then at Julian with eyes full of accusation.

Julian's knees gave out. He grabbed the reception desk to hold himself up.

He looked at Seraphina. She was semi-conscious. Her lips were moving.

He leaned down, desperate to hear her. To tell her he didn't mean to push her.

Save him... she whispered. Her voice was a broken rasp. Don't let Julian near... he'll kill him...

Julian recoiled as if she had spit in his face. Him? Who was him? Was she delirious? Did she think he was a murderer?

Paramedics swarmed them. They lifted Seraphina onto a stretcher. The movement caused more blood to flow.

Harper watched from the floor. She saw the blood. A flicker of triumph crossed her face, quickly replaced by a mask of horror.

Oh god, Harper sobbed. I didn't know...

Julian turned slowly to look at Harper. For the first time, he didn't see a victim. He saw the person who had held him back.

But he didn't speak. He turned and ran after the stretcher.

The elevator doors were closing. Zoe stood in the gap.

Don't you dare, Zoe hissed. You stay with your fake. You don't deserve to be here.

The doors slid shut.

Julian stood alone in the lobby. The blood was still on the floor. He looked at his hands. There was blood on his fingertips from where he had tried to touch Seraphina.

A camera flashed.

Julian turned on the photographer. He grabbed the camera and smashed it onto the floor.

Get out! he screamed. All of you!

He collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his head in his bloody hands.