Chapter 7

The doctor stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression stern. "Ms. Guzman, I cannot discharge you. Your blood loss was significant, and your psychological evaluation-"

"I am signing myself out against medical advice," Adriana said, pulling the IV line out of her hand for the second time in this life. A small drop of blood welled up, but she ignored it, pressing a cotton ball to the spot. "Give me the forms."

"Adriana," Janna said, hovering by the bed. "Maybe you should stay one more night."

"No." Adriana swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was wearing the clothes Janna had brought her: simple black pants and a cashmere sweater. The collar of the sweater hid the bandages on her neck.

She stood up, her legs steady. The dizziness was there, but she pushed through it. She didn't have time to be weak.

She signed the forms with a flourish, ignoring the doctor's disapproving stare. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

The sunlight outside was blinding. It was a beautiful, crisp morning, the kind of day that felt like a fresh start. But all Adriana felt was the chill in the air.

"Where are we going?" Janna asked, following her to the curb.

"You're going home," Adriana said, pulling out her phone. "Remember what I said. Stay away from Troy."

"But what about you?" Janna grabbed her arm. "You can't just go back to the hotel. Everette is looking for you."

"I'm not going to the hotel," Adriana said. She opened the Uber app and typed in an address. "I'm going to Long Island."

Janna's eyes widened. "The Mills Estate? Are you insane?"

"Probably," Adriana said. A black SUV pulled up to the curb. The driver rolled down the window. "But I have to finish this."

She climbed into the back seat before Janna could argue. She closed the door, shutting out her friend's worried face.

The car pulled away from the hospital, merging onto the expressway. Adriana watched the city skyline give way to the leafy suburbs of Long Island. Her heart was beating fast, but her mind was clear.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Emergency trust liquidation authorized. Funds will be available within 24 hours. Awaiting your final instructions.

Five million dollars. Her grandmother had come through. It was her inheritance, the money that was supposed to be for her wedding. It was enough to start over. Enough to disappear.

The car turned onto the private road leading to the Mills Estate. The wrought-iron gates stood open, a silent invitation to the gilded cage. The house loomed at the end of the drive, a massive stone mansion that looked more like a museum than a home.

Adriana paid the driver and stepped out. The air smelled like cut grass and money. She walked up the steps to the front door.

The butler opened it before she could knock. His face was a perfect mask of professional calm, but his only sign of surprise was a fractional hesitation before he stepped back, his voice a low, even murmur. "Miss Guzman."

"Where is he?" Adriana asked, her voice leaving no room for small talk. "Where is Everette Mills?"

The butler hesitated. "Mr. Mills is in his study."

"Good," Adriana said. She didn't wait for an invitation. She stepped past him and walked into the grand foyer. Her heels echoed on the marble floor, a steady, rhythmic sound that matched her heartbeat.

She walked down the long hallway, her eyes straight ahead. She didn't look at the family portraits on the walls. She didn't look at the fresh flowers that cost more than most people's rent.

She was here for one reason. To burn the bridge to the ground.

She reached the study doors. They were heavy oak, carved with the Mills family crest. They were slightly ajar.

She raised her hand to push them open, but a voice from inside stopped her.

"You can't be serious, sir." It was Graham Fletcher, Everette's head of security. His voice was tight with panic.

Adriana froze, her hand hovering in the air. She leaned closer to the crack in the door.