ina

in a coma, fighting for my life, his social media was a vibrant stream of curated happiness. Pictures of him and

sipping champagne, the sun setting behind them. That was the day I

ering at her throat. That was the day I was undergoing emergency surgery to rep

hold a phone, a raw, primal scream tore through me. I typed a furious comment on his latest post, somethin

ocus on leaving, on putting this nightmare behind me. I bought a plane ticket, a one-way

miah was

till weak, still recovering. The familiar scent of expensive cologne, of power, of menace. Jere

king me?" I mumbl

side a nondescript building. They dragged me through a dimly lit hallway, then into a private room. My eyes adjusted to the low light. It was a bar,

s. They looked like royalty, I, a beggar at their feet. Elena's face was still

sked, my voice trembling, not fro

till recovering from your little outburst, Cel

to exist? "I did nothing wrong," I spat, a trickle o

epeated, his voic

, finally, was unbreakable. I coughed, and a spray

apologize, then perhaps your beloved gr

tical illness, her life hanging by a thread. She was my last remaining fami

g about?" My voice w

nded by 'Nexus Innovations'." He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And I own

or my grandmother was a fierce, protective f

hone. "Well? Your a

acking. "Please, Jeremiah!

ger hovering over a co

ash. "I'm sorry. Elena. I'm sorry." The words

She needs to show she means it." She picked up a bottle of clear liquid, a

ndifference. He knew. He absolutely knew. He had always been so careful about my allergies, making sure no food or drink contained even a

" I pleaded, my voice hoarse

t be dramatic, Celina. A little liquor won't hurt you. Unless you'd

eady closing from fear. I snatched the bottle, my hand trembling, and brought it to my lips. The burning liquid scalded my throat. I choked, cou

, searing pain

nvulsing, my throat a raw, burning mess. The doctors were working

ed to a nurse, clutching

sorry, dear. I don't have that

ng the pain, and stumbled out of the room. My legs were wea

the smell of antiseptic. My heart pounded. The nur

hase called earlier. He refused consent for her emer

one it. He had actually done it. He had sacrificed

mbling with the numbers. I called Jeremiah. It rang once,

Don't tell me you're not do

aking. "Please, Jeremiah. Please. Sh

n the silent ward. "Oh, Celina. Always so dra

ing! Just save her!" I was beggi

You chose your path

ine went dead. My

r. My grandmother's heart monitor. A single, agonizing line stretched across the screen, a fin