Katharine Kent POV:

The gala moved into the speeches. The main chandeliers dimmed, and a bright spotlight hit the center stage.

I stood in the deep shadows near the heavy velvet curtains at the edge of the room. I kept my distance from the crowd.

In the center of the dance floor, directly under the massive, multi-tiered crystal chandelier, Andrew stood with Alida. They were the focal point of the room, bathing in the ambient light.

High above them, near the vaulted ceiling, a sharp, metallic groan echoed.

It was a sickening sound. The grinding of steel giving way.

A few tiny shards of glass rained down first. They hit the champagne tower with sharp, crystalline pings.

The crowd gasped. Heads tilted upward.

The heavy steel cable holding the thousand-pound chandelier snapped.

The massive structure plummeted. It was falling directly toward Alida.

Instinct took over. Andrew's eyes went wide. In a split second, he lunged forward, his arms extending with explosive force to shove the person nearest to him out of the danger zone, creating a clear path to grab Alida.

He didn't look at who he was pushing.

His heavy hands slammed into my shoulders. Ethan had spotted me hiding in the shadows just moments before. He had walked over, gently taking my arm to guide me away from the drafty curtains and closer to the warmth of the room's center, insisting I at least have a proper view of the speeches. The shifting crowd had closed in behind us, trapping me in the inner circle.

The force of Andrew's shove lifted me off my feet. I flew backward, my spine colliding violently with the edge of the marble dessert table.

A fraction of a second later, the chandelier hit the floor exactly where I had been standing.

The impact sounded like a bomb detonating. The floor shook. Thousands of razor-sharp crystal shards exploded outward like shrapnel.

The flying glass ripped through the air. Several large, jagged pieces sliced deep into my calves and forearms.

I hit the floor hard, landing directly on a bed of shattered glass. The breath was knocked out of me. A searing, blinding pain tore through my legs. Warm blood immediately soaked through the black velvet of my dress, pooling on the white marble.

Screams erupted. The ballroom descended into absolute chaos. People trampled over each other to reach the exits.

"Katharine!" Ethan's roar tore through the noise. He shoved people aside, sprinting toward the wreckage.

Andrew was crouching near the edge of the dance floor. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Alida, shielding her head. They were completely unharmed.

Hearing Ethan's scream, Andrew's head snapped up.

He looked across the debris. His pupils dilated. He saw me lying in an expanding pool of dark blood, my skin ashen.

Andrew's breath hitched. His brain short-circuited. His arms loosened around Alida as his body instinctively tried to rise, to move toward the blood.

Alida felt his grip loosen. She immediately let out a weak, pathetic whimper and let her head loll back against his chest. She went completely limp, faking a dead faint.

The dead weight of Alida's body snapped Andrew's attention back. He looked down at her pale face.

He gritted his teeth. He scooped Alida up into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. He stood up and turned his back on the wreckage. With long, urgent strides, he carried Alida toward the exit doors.

He didn't look back at me. Not even once.

Ethan dropped to his knees in the glass. He ripped off his expensive tuxedo jacket and pressed it brutally hard against the deepest gash on my leg.

"Hold on, Kat. Just hold on," Ethan begged, his hands slick with my blood.

The wail of ambulance sirens pierced the New York night, growing louder as they approached the hotel.

Paramedics burst through the doors with a gurney. They shouted orders, lifting my limp body onto the stretcher. My face was the color of chalk.

As they rolled me rapidly toward the exit, I fought through the black edges of my vision. I forced my eyes to stay open. I looked toward the doors where Andrew had disappeared.

The space was empty.

The last ember of hope inside my chest sizzled and died. There was nothing left but cold ash.

The ambulance doors slammed shut. The vehicle lurched forward, speeding through the Manhattan streets.

Lying on the narrow cot, the siren screaming in my ears, I moved my uninjured left hand. I reached into the pocket of my ruined dress and pulled out my phone. My fingers were smeared with my own blood.

I unlocked the screen, my vision swimming with dark spots. I tried to open my email to contact my lawyer, but my thumb smeared thick, dark blood across the glass. The phone slipped from my weak grip, clattering onto the metal floor of the ambulance. I couldn't do it now. My body was shutting down, the piercing wail of the siren fading into a dull, distant hum. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness pull me under, but my mind locked onto a single, unbreakable vow: the moment I opened my eyes again, I was leaving this city forever.

Katharine Kent POV:

Three days later, I opened my eyes.

The ceiling was a stark, clinical white. I was lying in a private suite at a luxury rehabilitation center in Long Island. An IV dripped steadily into my bruised hand. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see a manicured French courtyard and a large, stone decorative fountain. The very first thing I did, before calling a nurse or checking my bandages, was reach for the new phone Ethan had left on my bedside table. My fingers trembled slightly, but my resolve was absolute. I opened the airline app, selected a one-way ticket to Paris departing as soon as I was medically cleared, and pressed confirm.

The sharp click-clack of stiletto heels echoed in the hallway.

The door handle turned. Andrew walked in, his expression tight with restless irritation. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that felt entirely out of place in the sterile room. Without asking, he strode past the bed and shoved open the heavy glass doors leading to the terrace, letting in a blast of freezing winter air as if he couldn't stand the suffocating smell of the hospital. Right behind him, Alida stepped in, clutching a massive bouquet of white lilies.

I didn't move. I just slowly turned my head toward the window, closing my eyes. I shut them out entirely.

Andrew stopped at the foot of the bed. He let out a harsh breath, clearly annoyed by my silence.

"You need to be reasonable, Katharine," Andrew said, his voice hard and unapologetic. "It was chaos. I had to make a split-second decision to clear the area. You can't hold a grudge over an accident."

Alida stepped forward, her heels sinking into the plush rug. She walked to the bedside table and forcefully shoved the lilies into a glass vase. The sickly sweet smell filled the room.

Andrew turned his head to check his phone.

In that blind spot, Alida leaned over me. Her face twisted into a vicious sneer. She reached down and dug her sharp acrylic nail directly under the medical tape holding my IV needle. She scraped hard against the bruised vein.

A sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm. My eyes snapped open.

Reacting on pure instinct, I yanked my arm back violently.

My wrist caught the metal IV pole. The heavy steel stand crashed into the bedside table with a loud, metallic bang.

At that exact second, the door swung open. Ethan's closest friend, a hot-headed guy named Marcus, walked in to visit.

Marcus took one look at Alida standing over the bed and the crashed IV pole. His face turned purple.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Marcus roared, pointing a thick finger at Alida. "You have no shame coming in here!"

Marcus lunged forward. He grabbed Alida by the shoulder, intending to physically shove her out of the room.

Alida shrieked. She threw her arms up and intentionally let her knees buckle, falling backward onto the floor.

Andrew looked up from his phone. He saw Marcus grabbing Alida, and he saw Alida on the floor. His eyes went dark with rage.

"Get your hands off her!" Andrew yelled.

He lunged across the room. I, terrified that Andrew was going to punch Marcus, tried to sit up and reach my good arm out to stop him.

Andrew didn't look at me. He just saw an obstacle in his path to Alida.

He threw his arm out and shoved me backward with brutal force.

My body was already weak from blood loss. The violent push threw me entirely off balance. I stumbled backward, my bare feet slipping on the polished floor.

I fell backward through the glass doors Andrew had left wide open, stumbling out onto the freezing terrace.

I couldn't stop my momentum. I tipped over the low stone ledge.

With a heavy splash, I plunged backward into the freezing water of the courtyard fountain.

The shock of the early winter water was instantaneous. It soaked through my thin hospital gown in a second, biting into my skin like needles.

The violent impact against the stone basin ripped the fresh stitches in my calf and forearm wide open.

A thick cloud of bright red blood immediately bloomed in the crystal-clear water of the fountain.

Andrew froze. His hand was still extended in the air. He stared at the red water spreading around my pale body. His chest seized. A sudden, cold spike of genuine panic pierced his anger.

Marcus didn't hesitate. He cursed loudly and jumped straight into the freezing water, wrapping his arms around me to haul me out.

I lay shivering on the wet stone. The pain was blinding. My vision was tunneling into darkness.

I blinked water from my eyelashes. I looked up and saw Andrew standing on the terrace, his face pale, taking a hesitant step toward me.

My lips pulled back. I gave him a smile. It was a chilling, hollow smile that didn't reach my eyes. I looked at him like he was already a corpse.

Then, my eyes rolled back, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

The shrill wail of the medical code alarm echoed across the Long Island estate.

A swarm of doctors and nurses rushed onto the terrace. They physically shoved Andrew backward, forming a wall of scrubs between him and my bleeding body.