Chapter 4

Ethan hung up the phone, a strange unease settling in his gut.

Jessica, lounging on his sofa, raised an eyebrow. "Who was that, darling?"

"Miller. Amy's doctor friend."

"Oh? More trouble with dear Amy?" Jessica's voice was laced with disdain. "She's probably faking it for attention. She's always been so dramatic."

Ethan didn't reply. Amy, faking an accident? It didn't feel right.

But Jessica's words planted a seed of doubt. Amy had been a drain, a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

He paced his penthouse, the city lights blurring below.

He couldn't shake David Miller's urgent tone. "Your last chance to see her."

He picked up his phone, dialed his assistant.

"Check Mount Sinai. See if an Amelia Hayes was admitted. An accident."

He waited, his heart thudding.

The assistant called back minutes later. "Yes, sir. An Amelia Hayes was admitted. Hit-and-run. She's listed as stable."

Stable. Not dying.

Relief warred with a strange disappointment. And guilt.

"Don't mention my inquiry," Ethan said, and hung up.

He stood by the window, the city lights reflecting in his empty eyes.

He didn't sleep that night. The image of Amy, pale and broken, haunted him.

Amy refused treatment. Again.

David sat by her hospital bed, his face etched with frustration.

"Amy, please. The accident... it's accelerated things. But we can still fight."

She looked out the window, at the gray city sky.

"I'm tired, David. It's time." Her voice was calm, too calm.

"This isn't you, Amy! You're punishing yourself. Liv wouldn't want this!" His voice trembled.

She turned to him, a faint smile on her lips. "Maybe. But this is what I need."

He knew he couldn't change her mind. Not now.

A week later, she was discharged. Weak, but mobile.

It was the anniversary of Liv's death.

Amy went to the cemetery. A small bouquet of white lilies in her hand, Liv's favorite.

The Carter family plot was imposing, grand. Liv's headstone was simple, elegant.

"Olivia 'Liv' Carter. Beloved Daughter and Sister."

Amy knelt, placing the flowers.

"Liv," she whispered, tears tracing paths down her pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I should have been stronger. I should have protected you."

She spoke of her guilt, her pain, her upcoming death.

"I'll see you soon, Liv. Maybe then... maybe then it won't hurt so much."

She feared Liv's judgment, even in death. But she longed for an end to her own suffering.