Shattered Rings And Her Priceless Hidden Identity

Heavy rain violently battered the windshield of the black sedan.

Evelyn Austin sat in the backseat, her gaze fixed on the blurred red taillights of the Manhattan traffic.

At the intersection, a massive delivery truck suddenly ran the red light, tearing through the downpour directly toward them.

The driver yanked the steering wheel hard. The tires let out an ear-splitting screech as they lost traction on the slick asphalt.

The sheer force of the impact threw Evelyn's body violently forward.

The airbag deployed in a fraction of a second, slamming into her chest and forcing all the oxygen from her lungs.

A thick, acrid smell of burning rubber and white smoke instantly filled the crushed cabin.

Evelyn's forehead smashed against the side window. Warm, thick blood immediately began to seep into her hairline, blinding her left eye.

Outside, the muffled shouts of paramedics cut through the rain. They wedged a heavy iron crowbar into the mangled door, prying it open with a metallic groan.

Strong hands pulled her half-conscious body onto a rigid stretcher, shoving her into the back of a wailing ambulance.

The siren screamed all the way to the emergency bay of Mount Sinai Hospital.

The blinding, sterile fluorescent lights of the ER forced Evelyn to squeeze her eyes shut. Her stomach rolled with intense nausea.

An emergency room doctor moved quickly, wiping the blood from her face and stitching the deep gash above her brow. The pull of the thread against her skin was a dull, rhythmic sting.

A nurse named Moira Walsh pulled the privacy curtain shut. As the fabric swished closed, Moira leaned toward another nurse, her voice dropping into a hushed whisper.

"Did you see the VIP floor? The CEO of the Finley Group is upstairs right now, playing nurse to that actress."

Evelyn's heart physically stopped in her chest.

The name Carter Finley hit her ears, and a cold rush of bile rose in the back of her throat.

She didn't wait for the nurse to turn back around. Evelyn reached over and ripped the IV needle straight out of the back of her hand.

"Ma'am, you can't-" Moira started, but Evelyn was already off the bed.

A wave of violent dizziness slammed into her, forcing her to grip the edge of the mattress. Her freshly stitched forehead throbbed in agonizing time with her racing pulse, but she refused to stop.

Thick drops of blood slid down her knuckles, splattering onto the pristine white hospital tiles.

Evelyn pressed her hand against the cold, sterile wall, using it to keep her balance as she forced her legs to carry her toward the elevator bank.

She hit the button for the top floor.

The doors slid open. She stepped out, dragging her heavy, aching body down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward the VIP suite at the very end.

Through the slightly parted blinds of the room, warm, soft light spilled into the corridor.

Carter Finley sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He held a plastic cup of warm water in his large hands.

Brianna Chen leaned back against the pillows. Fat, pathetic tears clung to her eyelashes.

Carter raised his hand. His thumb brushed gently across Brianna's cheek, wiping away the moisture.

Brianna leaned into his touch, lifting her own hand to press his palm flat against her face.

Evelyn's lungs seized. The air trapped in her chest felt like a solid block of cement. The tearing sensation in her gut was violently worse than the car crash.

She stumbled backward. Her spine collided hard with a metal medical cart left in the hallway. The sudden movement sent a sickening jolt of pain through her bruised ribs, but she couldn't feel it over the absolute devastation in her heart.

The stainless steel trays on top clattered together with a sharp, ringing crash.

Inside the room, Carter's head snapped toward the door, his jaw tightening as his brow furrowed.

Evelyn didn't breathe. She shoved herself off the cart and darted into the heavy shadows of the adjacent stairwell.

Her back hit the concrete wall. She pulled her phone from her coat pocket with trembling, blood-stained fingers.

She dialed her lawyer's number. When he answered, her voice was completely hollow. "Draft the divorce papers. Now."

Evelyn stood in the freezing, dimly lit stairwell of the hospital and ended the call.

She leaned her full weight against the rough concrete wall, gasping for air as she tried to force her violently shaking body to still.

Her phone screen suddenly lit up in her palm. A special push notification from TMZ flashed across the glass.

The bold, black headline read: Hollywood's Rising Star Brianna Chen Suspected Pregnant.

Beneath the text was a blurry, zoomed-in photo of Carter's broad back as he escorted Brianna through the private entrance of Mount Sinai Hospital.

Evelyn stared at the word "Pregnant." Her stomach violently contracted, sending a rush of sour acid up her esophagus.

The phone vibrated again in her hand. The caller ID displayed her older brother, Emilio Austin.

She pressed answer, bringing the phone to her ear. Emilio's furious, demanding voice immediately blasted through the speaker.

"You need to get to that hospital right now and clear up these divorce rumors with the press," Emilio ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He didn't ask if she was okay. He went straight for the throat, threatening to cut off the Austin family trust fund and stop the payments for their mother's private care facility.

Evelyn locked her jaw. She dug her fingernails into her palm until the skin nearly broke, and coldly rejected his demands.

She pulled the phone away from her ear, hit the red button, and permanently blocked his number.

Pushing open the heavy fire door, Evelyn walked out of the hospital and into the pouring rain. She raised a hand and hailed a passing yellow cab.

The taxi sped through the flooded streets of New York, finally pulling up to the curb of her luxury apartment building on the Upper East Side.

The doorman's eyes widened in shock when he saw the bloody gauze on her forehead, rushing forward to open a large black umbrella over her head.

Evelyn ignored him. Her face was entirely blank as she walked into the private elevator and hit the button for the penthouse.

The doors slid open to the sprawling, silent apartment.

She walked straight into the massive walk-in closet and yanked a black Hermes suitcase down from the top shelf.

She didn't touch the designer gowns. She only grabbed the basic, unbranded clothes she had purchased before the marriage, shoving them into the suitcase. Her stitches burned with a hot, pulsing ache as she dragged the heavy luggage across the floor.

Every piece of haute couture and every velvet jewelry box Carter had ever given her was thrown carelessly onto the plush carpet.

She walked out of the closet and into his study. She pulled open the heavy oak drawer of the desk and took out the freshly faxed divorce agreement from her lawyer.

Evelyn picked up the Montblanc pen resting on the leather blotter. She quickly signed her name on the bottom line, her handwriting sharp and jagged.

She paused, her eyes dropping to the massive pink diamond wedding ring sitting heavy on her left ring finger.

She grabbed the diamond and pulled hard. The metal scraped violently against her knuckle, leaving the skin raw and red.

Evelyn slammed the priceless ring down onto the desk, pressing it directly over her signature on the divorce papers.

She zipped up the suitcase. The metal teeth of the zipper bit together with a loud, harsh sound.

Dragging the luggage to the foyer, she turned her head and took one final look at the cold, empty cage she had lived in.

She reached out and flipped the main breaker switch. The entire penthouse plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.

The heavy front door clicked shut behind her, the lock engaging with a heavy thud.

She dragged her suitcase out onto the wet Manhattan pavement, her silhouette disappearing into the dark night.

Evelyn stood on the soaked sidewalk, the rain soaking through her thin coat, and flagged down a ride-share car.

She gave the driver the address for The Plaza Hotel. The car merged into traffic, heading straight toward Central Park.

Walking into the opulent lobby, she bypassed the main desk and used her private, unmonitored credit card to book a suite.

The bellhop carried her black suitcase into the room, gave a polite bow, and quietly backed out of the door.

Evelyn threw the deadbolt and hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the handle.

She kicked off her ruined heels and collapsed face-first onto the massive, soft bed, her muscles screaming in exhaustion.

The stitches on her forehead throbbed with a hot, pulsing pain. She closed her eyes, quickly slipping into a shallow, restless sleep.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a violent, rapid pounding on the door jolted her awake.

Before she could sit up, the muffled sound of a harsh argument bled through the heavy door. "Mr. Finley, you cannot-" a hotel manager pleaded. The electronic lock beeped sharply. The door was shoved open, and Carter Finley stormed into the suite, tossing a master hotel keycard directly at the terrified manager's chest before slamming the door shut.

He brought the freezing dampness of the rain and a suffocating wave of anger with him.

Evelyn shot up from the mattress, her hands instinctively gripping the edge of the duvet.

The loud bang echoed off the high ceilings of the suite.

His eyes were bloodshot. He demanded to know what the hell the papers on his desk meant.

Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. She pointed a shaking finger at the door and told him to get out.

Her dismissal ignited the rage he had been suppressing all night. He crossed the room in three long strides.

He grabbed her wrist, his grip bruising and impossibly strong.

He pushed her backward onto the mattress, his large frame casting a dark shadow that completely engulfed her.

Evelyn inhaled sharply. The distinct, sterile smell of hospital sanitizer clung to his suit jacket. Her stomach violently lurched.

She fought wildly, her fingernails scraping hard across the back of Carter's hand, leaving bright red scratches.

The extreme physical exhaustion and the lingering trauma of the crash suddenly triggered a severe stress response. Her vision blurred.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling uncontrollably as she began to mumble incoherently.

"Don't hurt my mom," she whispered, her voice broken. "Don't take her away."

Carter froze instantly. The muscles in his back went rigid, and his pupils contracted.

The crushing pressure on her wrists vanished. A flash of deep confusion and raw pain crossed his face.

He slowly reached out a trembling hand, his fingers moving toward the white gauze on her forehead.

Just as his fingertips were about to brush her skin, the sharp, customized ringtone of his phone pierced the silence.

It was the specific ringtone he had assigned only to Brianna.

Carter's hand stopped in mid-air. His jaw clenched tight, the muscle ticking under his skin. He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it.

He lowered his voice, speaking softly into the receiver, promising her he would be right back to the hospital. He turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut. Evelyn opened her eyes in the pitch-black room, hot tears sliding silently down her temples into her hair.