Chapter 3

The drive back to the city was a blur of Ethan' s rage.

He was drunk, his driving reckless, speeding down the dark highway.

"She thinks she can play me?" he seethed, gripping the steering wheel. "Marrying that Eurotrash pretty boy? After everything?"

Sarah stayed silent, bracing herself. His fury was a volatile thing, and she was always in the blast radius.

"She's doing it to spite me, you know that, right?" he demanded, glancing at her.

Sarah just looked out the window.

Suddenly, headlights swerved into their lane. Ethan cursed, wrenching the wheel.

There was a sickening crunch of metal, the screech of tires.

Instinctively, Sarah threw herself across Ethan, shielding him with her own body as the airbags deployed.

Pain shot through her shoulder and head.

When the spinning stopped, Sarah, dazed, pushed herself up. Ethan was groaning, but seemed largely unharmed.

She looked at the other car. A sleek sports car, crumpled at the front.

And then she saw them. Chloe Astor, looking shaken, and a handsome, dark-haired man – Julian Croft – trying to open her door.

Chloe was clutching her arm, her face pale.

Ethan scrambled out of the car, ignoring Sarah completely.

"Chloe! Are you okay?" He rushed to her side, pushing Julian away.

"Ethan, my arm... I think it's broken," Chloe whimpered, leaning heavily against him.

Julian Croft looked annoyed. "She' ll be fine. It' s probably just a sprain."

Ethan rounded on him. "This is your fault! Driving like a maniac!"

"I was not driving like a maniac!" Julian retorted, his accent sharp. "You cut me off!"

Sirens wailed in the distance.

At the hospital, chaos reigned. Chloe was being dramatic, claiming intense pain.

A doctor announced, "Ms. Astor needs a blood transfusion. It's a minor complication, but her blood type is O-negative, a bit rare. We need a donor quickly."

Ethan immediately stepped forward. "I'm O-negative. Take my blood."

Sarah's mind raced. The Program. They sometimes fed her tiny, useful pieces of information. Or perhaps it was just a desperate lie forming on her lips.

"Ethan, no!" Sarah said, stepping between him and the nurse. "You had that bad flu shot last week, remember? The doctor said you shouldn't donate blood for at least a month. It could make you really sick."

Ethan looked at her, surprised. He had been sick, a minor cold, but he' d forgotten about the shot. Or maybe he hadn't had one. It didn't matter.

"I'm O-negative too," Sarah said, turning to the nurse, offering her arm. "Take mine. I'm fine."

Her shoulder throbbed, and she felt a dull ache in her head, but Mike's face flashed in her mind. She had to keep Ethan healthy, keep the wedding on track.

Ethan watched, a strange, unreadable expression in his eyes, as the nurse prepped Sarah's arm. He said nothing.

Chloe, from her bed, watched with narrowed eyes.

Later, declared "recovering" from a minor scrape and a bruised ego, Chloe made her demand.

"Sarah was in the car that hit us. She should make amends." Her voice was sickly sweet. "I need someone to look after me at my Hamptons estate while I recover. Sarah can be my personal assistant. It' s the least she can do."

Ethan, without even a glance at Sarah, agreed instantly. "Of course, Chloe. Whatever you need."

Sarah felt a cold dread creep over her. This was going to be a new level of hell. But she nodded. For Mike. For Protocol Omega.