Bella's POV
I wake up screaming.
My hands claw at the sheets, fighting invisible attackers. Marcus's disgusted face. My father's hand flying toward my cheek. Vivian's cruel smile. The photographers' cameras flashing like weapons.
"Bella! Bella, you're safe!" Hands grab my shoulders, holding me down gently. "It's okay. You're in the hospital. You're safe."
I blink hard, gasping for air. The nightmares fade, replaced by a clean white room and fluorescent lights. A woman in scrubs stands over me—Dr. Sarah, the one from before.
"How long?" My voice comes out like broken glass. "How long was I asleep?"
"Three days." She helps me sit up slowly. "You had a serious concussion. Your body needed rest."
Three days. I've been unconscious for three whole days.
"Where's Damien?" I ask immediately.
Dr. Sarah's face goes carefully blank. "Who?"
"Don't." I grab her arm, desperate. "The man who brought me here. Dark hair, gray eyes. He said his name was Damien. Where is he?"
She pulls away gently. "I don't know anyone by that name."
She's lying. I can see it in her eyes.
"You called someone," I say, my heart racing. "When you put me under. You said something about 'the Hartley girl' and asked if you should tell me the truth about Damien. I heard you."
Dr. Sarah's face goes pale. "You were supposed to be unconscious."
"Well, I wasn't. Not completely." I swing my legs out of bed, ignoring the dizziness. "So tell me the truth. Now. Who is Damien? Why was he at my engagement party? Is he working with Marcus?"
"I can't—"
"Tell me!" My voice cracks. "Everyone I trusted destroyed me. I need to know if he's one of them. Please."
Dr. Sarah looks torn, like she's fighting with herself. Finally, she sighs.
"Damien Crowe is a billionaire. He owns half this city, including this hospital." She sits down heavily. "And yes, he was at your engagement party. But not as a guest."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
"He was investigating your fiancé. Marcus Hartley—"
"Marcus Sterling," I correct bitterly. "He's not a Hartley. He just wanted to be."
"Marcus Sterling, then." Dr. Sarah nods. "Damien's been watching him for months. He thinks Marcus is connected to some very dangerous people. When he heard about your engagement party, he went to gather evidence."
I process this slowly. "So he just... happened to be there when everything fell apart?"
"He saw what they did to you." Dr. Sarah's voice softens. "He followed you when you ran. That's how he found you in the alley."
Relief floods through me. He wasn't part of the plan to destroy me. He was just... there.
But then another thought hits me.
"Why would a billionaire care about Marcus? What did Marcus do?"
Dr. Sarah stands up quickly. "I've already said too much. Damien will be angry—"
"Damien isn't here," I point out. "And I deserve answers. What is Marcus involved in?"
Before she can respond, the door bursts open.
A young nurse rushes in, her eyes wide with panic. "Dr. Chen! The police are here. They're asking about a patient named Isabelle Hartley."
My blood turns to ice.
"Tell them we don't have anyone by that name," Dr. Sarah—Dr. Chen—says quickly. "Use the privacy protocols."
"I tried! But they have a warrant. They say she's wanted for questioning about the embezzlement. They're searching every room."
No. No, no, no.
"You have to hide," Dr. Chen tells me, already pulling me toward a back door. "If they find you here—"
"They'll arrest me." I feel sick. "For crimes I didn't commit."
"Go out the back exit. There's an alley behind the building." She presses something into my hand—an envelope. "Take this. Everything you need is inside. And Bella? Run. Don't stop running until you're somewhere safe."
"Where? I have nowhere to go!"
"Then make somewhere." She pushes me toward the door. "Be smart. Be invisible. And whatever you do, don't trust anyone."
"Not even Damien?"
She hesitates. "Especially not Damien. He has his own agenda, and you're caught in the middle of something bigger than you understand."
Fear claws at my throat. "What do you mean?"
Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway. Men's voices, getting closer.
"Go!" Dr. Chen hisses. "Now!"
I run.
My hospital gown flaps around my legs as I burst through the back door into a narrow alley. Rain is falling again—of course it is. The universe seems determined to keep me wet and miserable.
I tear open the envelope while running. Inside is cash—maybe two thousand dollars—and a key with an address tag. There's also a note in sharp, masculine handwriting:
"Survive. Thrive. Make them pay by becoming everything they said you couldn't be. The apartment is yours for six months. After that, you're on your own. Don't waste this chance. - D"
Damien.
He knew I'd need to run. He prepared for this.
But why? What does he want from me?
I hear shouts behind me. The police have found the open door.
I shove the envelope into my gown and run faster, my bare feet slapping against wet concrete. My lungs burn. My head throbs. But I don't stop.
I can't stop.
I turn a corner and nearly collide with someone. Strong hands catch me before I fall.
"Easy there."
I look up and freeze.
It's a police officer. Young, maybe mid-twenties, with kind eyes. His hand is on my arm, steadying me.
"Are you alright, miss?" he asks, concerned. "You look hurt."
I should lie. I should run. But I'm so tired of running.
"I need help," I whisper.
His eyes narrow slightly, like he's trying to place my face. "What's your name?"
This is it. The moment that decides everything.
If I tell him the truth, I go to jail for crimes I didn't commit. My life is over.
If I lie, I become someone else. Someone new. Someone who doesn't exist.
"My name is..." I swallow hard. "My name is—"
"There she is!" A shout from behind us. "Isabelle Hartley! Stop!"
The officer's eyes widen with recognition. His grip on my arm tightens. "Miss Hartley? You need to come with me. You're wanted for—"
I knee him in the stomach.
He gasps and doubles over. I run past him, ignoring his shouts for backup.
I can't believe I just assaulted a police officer. The old Bella would never—
But the old Bella is dead.
I run until my lungs are screaming, until I can't hear sirens anymore, until I'm so lost in the maze of city streets that I have no idea where I am.
Finally, I collapse behind a dumpster, gasping and shaking.
I look at the address on the key. It's across town. If I can just get there without being seen...
My reflection stares back at me from a puddle. Hospital gown, bare feet, tangled hair, wild eyes. I look like a crazy person. I look like a criminal.
Maybe that's what I am now.
I pull out Damien's note and read it again. "Survive. Thrive. Make them pay."
Three simple commands. Three impossible tasks.
But what choice do I have?
I stand up on shaking legs. I need clothes. I need shoes. I need to become invisible.
The cash in my hand feels heavy. Stolen money or gift? I'm not sure anymore. I'm not sure of anything.
I start walking, keeping to shadows and alleys. Nobody looks at homeless people. Nobody remembers faces they don't want to see.
I can do this. I have to do this.
But as I walk, one question burns in my mind, refusing to be ignored:
If Damien was investigating Marcus... and Marcus destroyed me... does that mean Damien knew what was going to happen at that party?
Did he know Marcus was going to betray me, and he just... watched?
Or worse—did he help?
I clutch the key tighter, and a horrible thought occurs to me:
What if the apartment isn't a gift?
What if it's a trap?