Chapter 3
The world spun around me as paramedics rushed to where I lay sprawled in the safety net. Pain radiated through every inch of my body, but it was nothing compared to the shattering realization that Victoria had deliberately tampered with my harness. She had tried to kill me.
"Ma'am, can you hear me?" A paramedic's face hovered above mine, concern etched in his features.
I managed a weak nod, wincing as they carefully transferred me onto a stretcher. Through the haze of pain, I caught sight of James and Victoria watching from the platform above. She was pressed against his side, her hand resting possessively on his chest—right over Ethan's heart—while whispering something in his ear.
The park's clinic was small but efficient. As the medical staff bustled around me, checking for broken bones and concussions, I heard James's voice outside my curtained cubicle.
"I want every test run on that equipment," he demanded, his tone cold and authoritative. "I need to know if it's safe."
Not if I was safe. If the equipment was safe. For him.
The curtain was yanked back, and James stood there, his face a mask of irritation rather than concern. Victoria lingered behind him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the sight of my bruised body.
"They need to run some tests," he said flatly. "To make sure the harness wasn't defective."
I bit back a bitter laugh. "It wasn't defective until someone tampered with it."
His eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"
Before I could answer, his phone rang. He stepped away to take the call, leaving me alone with Victoria.
She leaned close, her perfume suffocating me. "Poor Lily," she whispered. "Always so fragile. So... accident-prone."
The doctor returned with painkillers and discharge papers. "Nothing broken, but you'll be severely bruised. You need rest."
James reappeared, his face tense. "Victoria's been in an accident."
My head snapped up, sending a jolt of pain down my spine. "What?"
"At my Hampton estate. She was supposed to meet friends there this afternoon." He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "Someone tampered with the deck railing. She fell and hit her head. She's losing blood."
Victoria's eyes widened in perfect, practiced shock. "Oh God, James. Who would do such a thing?"
His gaze shifted to me, cold suspicion hardening his features. "I need to get there now."
"I'll come with you," I said, struggling to sit up despite the protest of my battered body.
"No," he snapped. "You've done enough."
They left me there, alone in the clinic. But as I signed my discharge papers, a terrible thought gripped me. Victoria's "accident" was too convenient, too perfectly timed. Another manipulation. Another trap.
I had to get to the Hamptons.
The rental agency gave me an SUV, the only vehicle available on short notice. My hands trembled on the wheel as I navigated out of Manhattan, each bump in the road sending waves of pain through my bruised body. The painkillers were wearing off, but I couldn't stop. Couldn't rest.
The Hamptons estate loomed ahead as dusk fell, its manicured grounds bathed in the golden light of sunset. I parked haphazardly and stumbled toward the commotion on the far side of the property.
Victoria lay on a stretcher near the broken deck railing, a medical team hovering around her. Blood matted her perfect blonde hair, her skin unnaturally pale. James paced nearby, his face twisted with worry.
When he saw me, rage flashed in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, striding toward me.
"I came to help," I whispered, swaying on my feet.
"Help?" His laugh was harsh. "Like you helped by sabotaging the railing?"
"James," a paramedic called urgently. "She needs a transfusion. We're having trouble finding a match."
Victoria's eyes fluttered open, finding mine with eerie precision. "Lily," she whispered weakly. "Lily is my blood type. She told me once..."
James's hand closed around my wrist like a vise. "Is that true?"
I nodded numbly, knowing what was coming.
"Then you're giving her your blood," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Now."
As they led me to the ambulance, my vision blurred with exhaustion and pain. I felt the needle slide into my arm, watched my blood—already depleted from my own trauma—flow into the woman who had tried to kill me hours before.
James stood over me, his expression unreadable as Victoria's color improved while mine drained away. In that moment, as darkness crept at the edges of my consciousness, I realized a terrible truth: I was nothing more than a resource to be used. A vessel to be emptied.
And Ethan's heart, beating strong in James's chest, had never felt further away from me.
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