The sharp crack of the branch hung in the cold air.

Candy's head snapped toward the shadows of the fountain. Her lazy posture vanished, replaced by the rigid stance of a predator protecting its territory. She shoved Poppy behind her legs.

"Who's there?" Candy demanded, her voice shrill. "If that's security slacking off again, I'm docking your pay!"

Deanna knew she was caught. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth mixed with the bitter realization of the timeline. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, placed her bleeding hand on the edge of the fountain, and dragged herself out of the darkness.

She stepped into the halo of the patio lights.

Candy squinted. As Deanna's pale, scarred face and hollowed eyes came into focus, Candy's pupils dilated in absolute horror.

The crystal wine glass slipped from Candy's fingers. It shattered against the marble steps, sending a spray of dark red wine across her silk slippers like fresh blood.

Candy stumbled back, her voice twisting into a terrified shriek. "Deanna?!"

Deanna didn't look at Candy. Her bloodshot eyes were locked onto the little girl hiding behind the silk robe.

Deanna dragged her injured leg forward, closing the distance. "How old is she?" Deanna asked. Her voice was a guttural scrape, barely human.

Candy recovered quickly. The initial shock morphed into defensive arrogance. She remembered she was standing on her own patio, in her own estate. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin.

Candy casually reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The patio lights caught the massive pink diamond on her ring finger, making it explode with blinding sparkles.

Deanna's stomach violently contracted. She recognized the intricate setting of that ring. She had drawn the sketch for it herself, five years ago, for her own wedding.

Candy saw where Deanna was looking. A cruel, triumphant smile stretched across her lips. "Poppy just turned five last month," Candy said loudly, making sure every syllable hit its mark.

Five.

The number slammed into Deanna's skull like a sledgehammer.

Missing for five years. A ten-month pregnancy. That meant Joseph had been sleeping with Candy at least six months before Deanna ever boarded the plane for her medical mission in the Middle East.

Deanna's mind flashed to her lavish farewell dinner. Joseph kissing her forehead, whispering that she was his only love. It was all a lie. Every touch, every word.

Her lungs stopped working. Deanna clutched the fabric of her jacket over her chest, gasping for air. Her vision blurred at the edges.

Poppy started to cry, terrified by the ragged, bleeding woman gasping on the lawn. "Mommy, I'm scared! Tell Daddy to make the bad lady go away!"

Candy scooped the girl up into her arms. "You're nothing but a ghost, Deanna," Candy spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You're a psycho trying to ruin a happy family."

Candy pulled a sleek smartphone from her robe pocket. "I'm calling security. You're going to rot in a cell for trespassing."

The threat snapped the last thread of Deanna's sanity.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Deanna lunged up the marble steps. She grabbed Candy's wrist with her bloody hand, yanked the phone away, and smashed it onto the stone floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass.

Candy screamed, clutching her daughter and backing up against the heavy oak door. "You're insane! You spent too much time with terrorists!"

Deanna stepped into Candy's personal space. She grabbed the collar of Candy's expensive silk robe, twisting the fabric in her fists. Deanna's eyes were wild, rimmed with red.

"How did you do it?" Deanna hissed, spittle flying from her lips. "How did you and Joseph fake my death while I was rotting in a cage?"

Candy trembled, but her eyes remained vicious. "You're just a stupid doctor," Candy mocked, her breath hitting Deanna's face. "You know nothing about Wall Street. You know nothing about what men actually need."

Candy leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a lethal whisper. "Joseph never wanted to marry you. He only wanted your parents' medical trust fund."

The words sliced through Deanna's chest, severing her heart from its strings. Her hands went numb. She released Candy's robe, stumbling backward down the steps as if she had been physically shoved.

Before Deanna could hit the ground, two blinding beams of high-beam headlights swept across the courtyard, cutting through the darkness.

The screech of tires echoed off the stone walls. A sleek black Maybach slammed to a halt on the cobblestone driveway. The driver's side door was kicked open.

Joseph Cole jumped out. He was wearing a custom-tailored suit, but his tie was loose, and his chest was heaving. He had clearly rushed back after getting a panic call from the gate security.

Joseph's eyes darted from his terrified wife and child on the porch to the bleeding, ragged woman standing on the grass.

All the color drained from Joseph's face. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

Deanna slowly turned her head. She looked at the man she had loved since college. The man who had sold her out for a trust fund.

A chilling, broken laugh scraped its way out of Deanna's throat. Hot tears finally spilled over her eyelashes, cutting clean tracks through the dirt on her cheeks.

Joseph stood frozen beside the idling Maybach. He stared at Deanna, his legs suddenly too heavy to move. She looked like a corpse dragged out of a shallow grave, her clothes torn, her hands dripping blood onto his pristine driveway.

Candy didn't miss a beat. Seeing her protector arrive, she shifted her expression instantly. The cruel sneer vanished, replaced by wide, tear-filled eyes. She scrambled down the marble steps, clutching Poppy to her chest, and threw herself at Joseph.

"Joseph!" Candy sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. "She broke in! She smashed my phone and tried to grab Poppy! She's completely lost her mind!"

Joseph reacted on pure instinct. He wrapped his arms tightly around Candy and the little girl, pulling them flush against his chest. His large hand stroked Candy's back in a soothing, rhythmic motion.

That simple, subconscious gesture of protection twisted a rusty blade deep into Deanna's gut. It shattered whatever microscopic fragment of hope she had left.

Deanna wiped the tears from her face with the back of her wrist, smearing blood across her cheek. She dragged her injured leg forward, her boots crunching loudly on the gravel as she closed the distance between them.

Joseph looked up over Candy's shoulder. His eyes were a chaotic mess of guilt and panic. He tried to soften his face, attempting to summon the gentle tone he used to use to calm her down.

"Deanna," Joseph started, his voice trembling slightly. "Let's just calm down. This is all a massive misunderstanding."

The nausea hit Deanna again. "Misunderstanding?" she snapped, pointing a shaking finger at the five-year-old girl hiding against his leg. "Did you misunderstand the timeline before I left for the Middle East?"

Joseph's jaw tightened. He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose-his telltale sign of lying. "It was a mistake. I was drunk... it was a business dinner... I thought you were dead..."

"Shut up!" Deanna lunged forward. She grabbed the silk fabric of his expensive tie, wrapping it around her fist, and yanked him downward so he was forced to look her in the eyes.

"Where are my parents?" Deanna demanded, her voice vibrating with a terrifying intensity. "And what the hell did you do to their trust fund?"

At the mention of her parents, Joseph's pupils contracted to pinpricks. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple. He grabbed Deanna's wrists, trying to pry her fingers off his tie.

Deanna held on with a death grip. Her knuckles turned white. Her fingernails dug through his shirt, scratching the skin of his neck.

Two security guards sprinted up the driveway, reaching for Deanna's shoulders to rip her away.

Joseph held up a hand, stopping them. He needed to maintain his image. He couldn't have his ex-wife dragged away screaming about stolen money.

Joseph took a deep breath. He smoothed out his features, replacing the panic with a mask of profound, tragic sorrow.

"Deanna," Joseph said, his voice dropping to a somber whisper. "During your first year missing, your father made a terrible investment on Wall Street. A massive fraud scheme. The family went completely bankrupt."

Deanna's eyes widened. She shook her head violently. "No. My father was conservative. He never touched high-risk portfolios. You're lying."

Joseph ignored her, his tone turning icy and clinical. "They couldn't handle the shame of the bankruptcy. They locked themselves in the old estate in Connecticut."

Joseph paused, letting the silence stretch for a fraction of a second before delivering the kill shot.

"A year ago, a fire broke out in the middle of the night. They both died in their sleep from carbon monoxide poisoning."

Died in a fire.

The words detonated in Deanna's brain. The sound of roaring flames filled her ears, entirely deafening her. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

Deanna let go of his tie. She stumbled backward, her boots slipping on the gravel. "No," she mumbled, her lips numb. "No, no, no. It's a lie."

Candy peeked out from behind Joseph's back, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Joseph even paid for their funeral out of his own pocket. You should be thanking him for handling their ashes."

Betrayal. Erasure. The murder of her parents.

The triple impact of the trauma hit Deanna's nervous system all at once. It was too much. The human brain wasn't built to process this level of destruction.

A sharp, tearing pain ripped through Deanna's chest, as if her heart had literally split in two. Her throat closed up entirely. She couldn't breathe.

Deanna clutched the fabric over her chest, her fingers twisting the material. Her knees buckled. She crashed down hard onto the sharp cobblestones.

Joseph took a half-step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively to catch her.

Candy's manicured fingers dug into Joseph's bicep like claws, jerking him back. She shot him a warning glare that screamed don't touch her.

Deanna threw her head back, looking up at the pale, indifferent moon. A horrific, animalistic scream tore out of her throat-a sound of pure, unadulterated agony.

She bit down on her lip so hard that a stream of hot, dark blood poured from her mouth, dripping down her chin and staining her collar.

Her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body went completely limp, dropping forward like a severed marionette. Her forehead cracked against the cold stones, and the world faded into absolute blackness.

Joseph stared at the pool of blood forming under Deanna's face. Panic finally broke through his composed mask. He ripped his phone from his pocket and dialed the emergency number for the private hospital he owned shares in.

Deanna was falling. The darkness swallowed her whole, filled with the phantom smell of burning wood and the imagined screams of her parents trapped in the flames.

Then, the sharp, chemical stench of medical bleach forced its way into her nostrils, dragging her back to consciousness.

Deanna's eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. She slowly blinked them open. The blurry shapes above her sharpened into the ceiling of a lavish, sterile white VIP hospital room.

She tried to sit up. Her left arm yanked to a sudden, painful halt.

Deanna looked down. Her left wrist was strapped to the metal bed rail with a thick, white medical restraint. An IV needle was taped to the back of her hand, feeding clear liquid into her veins.

Panic spiked in her chest. She yanked her arm, the restraint biting into her bruised skin.

Before she could scream for help, the sharp clack-clack-clack of designer heels echoed on the marble floor outside her door, accompanied by high-pitched, mocking laughter.

The heavy door was shoved open. Candy strutted into the room, wearing a flawless Chanel pre-fall tweed suit. Flanking her were two women dripping in Cartier jewelry-her socialite friends.

Socialite A pinched her nose in exaggerated disgust, looking down at Deanna. "Oh my god, Candy. Is this the crazy woman who went missing? She looks like a stray dog. And she actually thinks she can steal your husband?"

Socialite B pulled out her phone, the camera flash going off right in Deanna's face. "I'm sending this to the group chat. Everyone needs to see what a delusional mistress looks like."

Mistress.

The word was a poisoned needle driven straight into Deanna's eardrum. Her chest heaved. She glared at them, her throat too raw and dry to form words, managing only a low, furious hiss.

Candy walked right up to the edge of the bed. She looked down at Deanna, her eyes shining with the absolute arrogance of a victor.

Candy leaned in close, the smell of her expensive perfume suffocating Deanna. "I sleep in your bed," Candy whispered, so low the other women couldn't hear. "I spend your parents' money. And you are nothing but a crazy whore tied to a bed."

Pure, blinding rage ignited in Deanna's blood. She didn't care about the pain. She thrashed violently against the bed, throwing her entire body weight sideways. The sudden movement yanked the IV tube tight. The needle tore at her vein, and a rush of dark red blood shot backward up the clear plastic tubing.

The socialites shrieked and jumped back, horrified by the blood.

Candy sneered and slammed her hand on the nurse call button. "Get in here and sedate this psycho!" she yelled.

A nurse rushed in holding a syringe, but before she could approach the bed, the door opened wider.

Joseph walked in. His suit was immaculate, not a single wrinkle in the fabric.

Deanna stopped thrashing. She looked at Joseph, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes begged him to tell the truth. To tell these women that she was his legal wife, the woman he had sworn to love.

Socialite A immediately grabbed Joseph's arm, pouting. "Joseph, this crazy woman just tried to attack Candy! She's dangerous!"

Joseph's eyes flicked to the blood dripping down Deanna's hand. He stared at it for exactly one second before his gaze turned as cold and dead as a frozen lake.

He looked at Candy, then at the socialites. He needed the Riley family's money. He needed the public image of a perfect marriage.

Joseph said nothing. He didn't correct them. His silence was the final nail in Deanna's coffin, cementing her status as the delusional mistress.

The light in Deanna's eyes died completely. The desperation vanished, replaced by an icy, hollow void. She finally saw the monster hiding beneath his tailored suits.

Joseph stepped toward the nurse. "Hold the sedative," he ordered, using his authority as a board member. He turned to Deanna, leaning over the bed.

"If you ever go near Candy again," Joseph whispered, his voice a lethal threat, "I will use every judge I own to have you permanently committed to the State Psychiatric Hospital. You will never see the sun again."

Deanna looked at the lips that used to kiss her. She felt a surge of bile rise in her throat. She stopped pulling against the restraints.

"Get out," Deanna rasped, her voice devoid of any human emotion.

Joseph flinched slightly at the pure hatred in her eyes. He adjusted his tie, turned his back on her, and escorted Candy and her friends out of the room.

The door clicked shut. The room fell into a dead silence, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor. Deanna didn't cry. Her tears were gone. Only stone remained.

She closed her eyes and waited.

Hours passed. The lights dimmed. Deanna lay perfectly still, feigning a deep, sedated sleep every time the nursing staff checked on her-which they did every thirty minutes like clockwork. She memorized their patterns. At exactly 11:45 PM, a code blue alarm blared from the opposite end of the VIP wing. The sudden chaos drew the heavy footsteps of the floor's security detail and the primary night nurse away from her door. It was a chaotic, three-minute window of shift-change confusion and emergency response. The hallway outside fell momentarily silent. Deanna's eyes snapped open.

She twisted her body, bringing her restrained wrist close to the metal bed rail. Her keen eyes had spotted a loose, jagged screw protruding slightly from the adjustable hinge of the rail. She pressed the thick plastic buckle of the restraint against the sharp metal edge. Gritting her teeth against the agonizing pull on her bruised wrist, she began to saw the plastic back and forth with frantic, relentless friction. Her muscles burned, and sweat beaded on her forehead, but she didn't stop until the weakened plastic finally gave way with a dull snap.

She ripped her arm free. Without hesitating, she grabbed the IV needle taped to her hand and ripped it out. Blood immediately welled up, dripping onto the white sheets. She pressed her thumb hard against the puncture wound.

She swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed, her toes hitting the freezing linoleum floor. She opened the small closet. Inside hung a gray utility jacket left behind by the cleaning staff. She pulled it on over her hospital gown.

Moving like a ghost, she slipped out the door. She hugged the walls, avoiding the red glow of the security cameras, and pushed through the heavy metal doors of the fire escape stairs.

She descended six flights in the dark. She hit the ground floor and slammed her shoulder against the emergency exit bar.

The door flew open. A blast of freezing rain and wind hit her face. Deanna stepped out into the black, storm-swept alley of Seaport City, running into the night.