Chapter 2

The Nolan mansion in the Upper East Side was as imposing as I remembered.

A uniformed housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, opened the door. Her expression was neutral.

Ethan strode past me. "Mrs. Davies, show Miss Miller to a room. The one in the east wing, near the old nursery."

The old nursery. The servants' quarters were probably closer.

He didn't want me near the main family areas.

"And have some food sent up. She looks... unwell."

He disappeared into a study.

Mrs. Davies led me up a grand staircase, then down a long, quiet hallway.

The room was small, but clean. It had a narrow bed and a single window overlooking a service alley.

"Dinner will be brought shortly, Miss Miller."

"Thank you."

She left, closing the door softly.

I sank onto the bed. The springs creaked.

My reflection in the dim mirror was a stranger. Gaunt, shadows under my eyes.

A knock. A young maid brought a tray. Soup, bread, a glass of water.

I ate slowly. It was the best food I'd had in months.

Later, I went to see Margaret.

She was asleep, machines beeping softly around her bed.

Her face was pale, her breathing shallow.

I sat beside her, taking her frail hand. It felt like bird bones.

"Margaret," I whispered. My voice was rough.

Her eyelids fluttered. She didn't wake.

Ethan stood in the doorway, watching.

His face was unreadable.

"The doctor said she might not... recognize anyone."

"She was always kind to my mother. And to me."

He didn't respond.

"Victoria will be here tomorrow. For the engagement party planning."

He said it like a warning.

"I understand."

I wouldn't cause trouble. I just wanted to be near Margaret.

He lingered for a moment, then turned and left.

I stayed with Margaret until a nurse gently told me I should rest.

Back in my small room, I touched the scar on my side.

It was a long, jagged line, still tender sometimes.

The price of a desperate choice.

Victoria's distant cousin needed a kidney. Victoria had "helped" arrange it.

She'd framed it as an act of charity, a way for me to get some much-needed cash after my father's arrest.

The "compensation" barely covered the first wave of debt collectors.

The surgery was done in a discreet clinic, not a proper hospital.

The pain had been immense.

I closed my eyes. Sleep was a long time coming.