Chapter 1

The doctor's words hung in the sterile air.

"Aggressive ovarian cancer, Amelia. Stage four."

Amelia Hayes, Amy, stared at the polished desk. Not at Dr. Ramirez.

The diagnosis was a cold, hard thing. It settled in her chest.

She nodded slowly. "Organ donation. I want to sign the papers now."

Dr. Ramirez looked at her, his expression carefully neutral. "We can discuss treatment options, aggressive chemotherapy..."

Amy shook her head. A small, final gesture. "No. Just the papers, please."

This was it. An end. Maybe a deserved one.

Flashes of the past cut through the haze of the clinic.

Liv. Olivia Carter. Her best friend, vibrant, laughing, her arm slung around Amy's shoulder.

Ethan Carter, Liv's older brother, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled at Amy. His hand, warm and sure in hers.

They were a unit, the three of them, inseparable. Golden days.

Then the gala. The chaos. Screams. The pop-pop-pop of gunfire.

Liv, pushing Amy down, shielding her. Liv's eyes wide, then dull.

Liv, gone.

And Ethan, his face a mask of cold fury, blaming Amy.

"She was only there because of you." His voice, a shard of ice.

Now, he was a CEO, powerful, ruthless. And Amy was... this. Dying.

The summons came on a cheap, company-issued phone.

"Mr. Carter requires your presence. The St. Regis. Seven p.m. Formal attire."

His assistant's voice was as cold as Ethan's usually was.

Amy worked at a small architectural firm. A firm Ethan's company often threw scraps of work to.

A constant, bitter reminder.

She pulled on her one good black dress. It hung loose on her thinning frame.

The St. Regis buzzed with money and power.

Ethan stood near the entrance, a king in his domain. Jessica Vance, his fiancée, clung to his arm.

Jessica's smile was a knife, hidden by sweetness. "Amy, darling. So good of you to make it. Ethan was just saying how... dedicated you are."

Ethan's eyes swept over Amy, cold, appraising.

"There's a potential investor," he said, his voice low, carrying. "Mr. Albright. He's... particular. Needs a certain kind of attention. You'll handle him. Ensure he signs."

Amy knew Albright's reputation. A lecher.

The task was designed to demean. To break her.

Her stomach churned. The cancer, a gnawing beast, woke up.

She nodded. "Of course, Mr. Carter."

She spent an hour fending off Albright's wandering hands and suggestive remarks, her smile plastered on, her insides screaming.

The effort, the stress, left her dizzy, a burning pain in her abdomen.

She secured his signature.

Ethan watched her return, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Jessica smirked.

Later, a man approached her. Mr. Davies, head of a rival tech firm.

"Ms. Hayes, that was impressive. Or perhaps, pitiful. Either way, you have grit. My company could use someone like you. Double your current salary. Real projects."

An escape. A lifeline.

Amy looked at him, her eyes dull. "Thank you, Mr. Davies. But I have obligations here."

A debt to pay. Liv's life for hers. This suffering was her currency.

Davies shook his head, a hint of pity in his eyes. "Suit yourself."

Ethan found her outside her rundown apartment building later that night.

The city lights couldn't reach this dark street.

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in. "What was that with Davies?"

His face was close, his breath smelling of expensive whiskey.

"He offered me a job."

"And?"

"I declined."

A strange look crossed his face. Anger, pain, confusion.

He kissed her then. Harsh, brutal. A punishment, not affection.

He pushed her against the brick wall, the rough surface scraping her back.

"Are you enjoying this?" he hissed, his voice raw. "Making me see you suffer? Is this your sick game?"

Amy felt a wave of nausea. She didn't fight.

"I'm doing what I have to, Ethan." Her voice was barely a whisper.

His phone buzzed. Jessica's name flashed on the screen.

He let go of Amy abruptly, his face closing off. "Don't think this changes anything."

He turned and walked away, answering the call. "Jessica, yes, I'm on my way."

Amy slid down the wall as his car disappeared.

Inside her tiny apartment, she barely made it to the bathroom before she vomited.

Blood swirled in the water. Red. Like Liv's dress that night.

She curled on the cold tiles, the pain a familiar companion.

This was her penance. For Liv.

She closed her eyes, accepting it. Welcoming the end.

Death would be a release. Atonement.