Chapter 1

The night before my father' s lung transplant, I sat by his bed, holding his hand. He was weak but his eyes were clear.

"Ava," he whispered, his voice raspy, "you' re a good daughter."

I squeezed his hand, a lump forming in my throat. "You just get better, Dad. We have so much time left."

He was the best man I knew, a philanthropist whose wealth was matched only by his kindness. He funded scholarships, built community centers, and never asked for anything in return. Now, he just needed a new set of lungs.

My fiancé, Ethan, was supposed to be here, but he had a last-minute family dinner. He was from a family just as prestigious as mine, a perfect match on paper.

I kissed my father' s forehead. "I' ll be right back. Just getting some water."

I stepped out into the quiet hospital corridor. The sterile smell was overwhelming. When I returned, the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and saw them.

Two men in black masks stood over my father' s bed. A third held a phone, its red light blinking. It was livestreaming.

Before I could scream, one of them grabbed me. He slammed me against the wall, his hand covering my mouth. I fought, kicking and struggling, but he was too strong.

I saw the horror in my father' s eyes. He tried to get up, his hand reaching for me, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The heart monitor beside his bed started beeping frantically, a piercing, high-pitched wail that filled the room.

The man holding me forced me to watch. He tore at my clothes. The camera stayed on us, on my father' s face, on the shrieking monitor.

My father' s hand fell limp. The beeping became one long, continuous tone.

He was gone.

The man let me go, and I crumpled to the floor. The intruders were gone as quickly as they appeared. The livestream ended.

But the damage was done. The lung that was meant for my father was redirected. His life was over. And mine was just beginning to burn.