The air in the room was thick enough to choke on. Everette ignored Janna, stepping around her like she was a piece of furniture. He stopped right in front of Adriana, towering over her. He looked down at her with a mixture of impatience and disgust.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook. A Montblanc pen appeared in his hand. He clicked it open, the sound sharp in the silence.

"Name your price," he said, his voice flat. "How much will it take for you to stop this circus and sign the divorce papers?"

He was buying her silence. He was paying her off for their dead daughter.

Adriana stared at the checkbook. The anger, the hysteria, the screaming-it all drained out of her, leaving a cold, empty shell. There was nothing left to burn.

Janna lunged forward, her hand reaching for the checkbook. "You son of a-"

One of the bodyguards who had entered behind Everette caught her arm, holding her back.

Adriana didn't look at Janna. She didn't look at the checkbook. She looked up at Everette's face. "You really don't believe me," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You think Pippa is a lie I made up."

Everette let out a short, humorless laugh. "I know you, Adriana. You'd say anything to keep me tied to you. But those days are over. Becky is the future of the Mills family, not you."

As if on cue, the television mounted on the wall flickered to life. The nurse at the station had turned it on for the midday news.

"-breaking news out of Long Island," the anchor said, his face grave. "We have confirmed reports that Pippa Mills, the five-year-old daughter of Everette Mills, CEO of Mills Corporation, was found deceased in the woods of the Guzman Estate early this morning-"

The voice droned on, but the words were white noise. The screen showed a picture of Pippa. That same gap-toothed smile, the bright eyes. Next to it, aerial footage of the estate, police cars clustered like ants.

Everette froze. The pen slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a ghost. He slowly turned his head toward the screen, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open.

"-authorities have ruled out foul play at this time, though the investigation is ongoing. The mother, Adriana Guzman, was hospitalized for shock-"

The checkbook dropped from his limp hand.

Becky Clay's face went entirely white. Her eyes darted to the screen, then to Everette, and for a split second, a flicker of pure panic crossed her features before she masked it.

Everette swayed on his feet. He looked like a man who had just been shot. He slowly turned back to Adriana. The arrogance, the coldness-it was all gone. Replaced by a raw, terrifying horror.

"Adriana..." he breathed, but no sound came out. His mouth moved, but he was choking on the truth.

Adriana watched him. She waited for the satisfaction, the vindication. It didn't come. There was only exhaustion. A bone-deep weariness that made her want to close her eyes and never open them again.

"Get out," she said quietly.

Janna yanked her arm free from the bodyguard, her chest heaving. She pointed at the door. "You heard her. Get out!"

Becky tried to slip toward the door, but Everette's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He held it in a vice grip, his knuckles white, though his eyes were still locked on Adriana.

"Leave," Janna repeated, her voice shaking. "All of you."

The bodyguards looked at Everette. He didn't move. He just stared at Adriana, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Janna," Adriana said, her voice hollow. "I want to be alone."

Janna hesitated, her eyes filled with worry. But she nodded. She shot one last glare at Everette, then turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind her.

The room was quiet. Just the hum of the television and the sound of Everette's ragged breathing.

Adriana turned away from him. She climbed back onto the bed, her movements slow and mechanical. She pulled the thin hospital blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes.

She didn't want to look at him anymore. She didn't want to see the regret that was too late.

Her hand, fumbling beneath the pillow, didn't find comfort. Instead, her fingers brushed against the worn fabric of the coat Janna had brought from her apartment. A coat she hadn't worn in years. Deep in the pocket, her fingers closed around a small, familiar plastic bottle. The sleeping pills. From before. From a time when the darkness was a different kind of monster. She had hidden them, just in case. She had forgotten them. But they were here. Waiting.

Now was the time.

While Everette stood there, paralyzed by the reality of what he had done, Adriana popped the cap. She didn't need water. She just tilted her head back, forcing down a dry, choking handful, and then another. The pills were bitter and sharp on her tongue.

The room started to blur at the edges. The colors bled together. She felt a strange sense of peace settling over her, a heavy blanket pulling her down into the dark.

Pippa, I'm coming.

Janna, I'm sorry. Live for me.

"Adriana." Everette's voice broke through the fog. He sounded desperate, panicked. "Adriana, talk to me. I didn't know. My god, I didn't know."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. But it was too far away. She was already sinking.

She opened her eyes one last time. Everette was leaning over her, his face twisted in agony. It was the first time she had ever seen him look human.

But it didn't matter. It was too late.

She closed her eyes, and the darkness took her.

Pain. That was the first thing she felt. A throbbing, pulsing ache behind her eyes that made her stomach turn. Her body felt heavy, like it was made of lead, but at the same time, strangely light.

Adriana gasped, her eyes flying open.

She expected to see the sterile white ceiling of the hospital. She expected to smell disinfectant and death. Instead, she saw crystal. A massive, glittering chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling draped in silk. The air smelled of expensive champagne, roses, and a faint hint of sandalwood cologne.

She sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. She looked down at her hands. They were smooth. Unblemished. The IV marks, the dirt, the blood-all gone.

She scrambled out of the bed, her legs unsteady. She caught sight of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room.

The woman staring back at her was young. Her skin was taut, her eyes bright, her hair thick and shiny. She was wearing a silk robe she hadn't seen in years.

Twenty-one. She was twenty-one.

The sound of water running came from the en-suite bathroom. The door opened, steam rolling out.

Everette walked out. He looked younger too. His hair was darker, his face less lined. A towel was slung low around his hips, water dripping down his chest. He looked at her, and for a second, a flash of warmth crossed his features.

"You're awake," he said, his voice smooth. He started towards her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I was worried. Last night was... a lot." He saw the way she flinched, the sheer terror that flashed in her eyes, and his own expression faltered, the smile vanishing. His tone shifted, becoming urgent, almost pleading. "Adriana," he said softly. "Marry me."

The words hit her like a physical blow. The same proposal. The same script.

Adriana jerked back, stumbling away from his touch. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, her skin crawling with phantom sensations of dirt and blood.

Everette froze, his hand hanging in the air. The warmth was gone, replaced by confusion. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate for an escape, a weapon, anything. They landed on the heavy crystal vase on the nightstand. It was a piece of art, sharp and heavy.

She lunged for it. Her fingers closed around the cold glass, and she hurled it at the floor with every ounce of strength she had.

The explosion of sound was deafening. Crystal shards sprayed across the marble floor, glittering like deadly snow.

Everette jumped back, his eyes wide. "Adriana! What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees among the broken glass, ignoring the sharp sting as a shard sliced her knee. She grabbed the longest, sharpest piece. It was cold and heavy in her palm.

She pressed the jagged edge against her neck. The point bit into her skin, a hot, sharp sting. A drop of blood welled up, sliding down her collarbone.

Everette's face drained of color. The confusion was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror. He held up his hands, taking a step back. "Adriana, put it down. Now."

"Don't come near me," she hissed, her voice shaking but her hand steady. The pain was real. The blood was real. It grounded her in this nightmare.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice strained, his eyes locked on the blood trickling down her neck. "Whatever you think is happening-"

"I know exactly what's happening," she spat, cutting him off. She looked into his eyes, the eyes that had looked at her with such contempt in the woods. The eyes that had protected Becky. "I know exactly who you are."

She pressed the glass harder, gasping at the sting, the warmth of the blood flowing faster.

"Everette Mills," she said, her voice ringing out in the silent room. "I, Adriana Guzman, would rather die right here, right now, than ever marry you."

The blood dripped onto the white silk of her robe, staining it red. Everette stared at her, his face a mask of absolute horror, completely trapped in a moment he didn't understand.

The beeping was the first thing she heard. A steady, rhythmic pulse that matched the throbbing in her neck. The smell of antiseptic filled her nose again.

Adriana opened her eyes. White ceiling. Hospital.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against the thick gauze wrapped around her throat. She was alive. Again.

She turned her head on the pillow. A figure was slumped in the chair beside the bed, red hair spilling over the armrest.

Janna.

Adriana's breath hitched. She looked so young. Her skin was fresh, her face relaxed in sleep. She wasn't bruised. She wasn't broken.

"Janna," Adriana whispered, the word scraping past her sore throat.

Janna jerked awake, her eyes flying open. When she saw Adriana looking at her, she gasped, leaning forward to grab her hand. "Oh my god, Adriana. You're awake. Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

Tears spilled down Adriana's cheeks. She squeezed Janna's hand, holding on like it was a lifeline. "You're here. You're real."

"Of course I'm real," Janna said, her brow furrowed with concern. "I've been here all night. You scared me to death. Why would you do that?"

Before Adriana could answer, the door was thrown open. It hit the wall with a bang, making Janna jump.

Hector and Dolores Guzman strode into the room. They looked impeccable, dressed in designer clothes, their faces set in matching expressions of fury.

"What were you thinking?" Dolores demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Do you have any idea the damage control we've had to do? The press is circling like sharks!"

Hector stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. "Mills called us. He was furious. Do you want to destroy this family? Is that your goal?"

Not a single question about her health. Not a single glance at the bandages on her neck.

In the past, this would have gutted her. She would have begged for their approval, cried for their attention. But now, looking at their cold, calculating faces, all she felt was a chilling clarity.

"I'm tired," Adriana said, her voice flat. "I want to rest."

"Rest?" Dolores scoffed. "You try to kill yourself over a man, and you want to rest? You will fix this, Adriana. You will apologize to Everette, and you will make him believe it."

Adriana looked at her mother. The woman who had sold her to the highest bidder. She knew that fighting them head-on would only bring more pain. She needed to be smart.

She let her shoulders slump. She lowered her eyes, letting her face crumple into an expression of defeat. A tear rolled down her cheek, perfectly placed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I panicked. I was so scared. I didn't mean to ruin everything."

Dolores blinked, clearly surprised by the quick surrender. Hector's frown lessened slightly.

"I'll apologize to him," Adriana continued, keeping her voice meek. "I'll tell him it was a mistake. I just need a little time to recover. Please, don't be mad at me."

Hector nodded, satisfied. "See that you do. The Mills connection is everything. Don't mess this up again."

Dolores patted her leg stiffly. "Get well soon. We have a reputation to maintain."

They walked out, leaving the door open behind them.

Janna stared at her, wide-eyed. "Adriana... are you okay? You just agreed to-"

Adriana looked up, meeting Janna's eyes. The meekness was gone. In its place was a cold, hard determination that made Janna go silent.

"I'm not apologizing," Adriana said quietly. "I'm surviving."

She closed her eyes, her mind already racing. She needed money. Her trust fund was controlled by her parents, but her grandmother's was different. She had access to that on her terms.

She needed to protect Janna. She couldn't let her friend fall into the trap that was Troy Boggs.

And she needed to get as far away from Everette Mills as humanly possible. This time, she wasn't going to just die. She was going to disappear.