"I thought you'd at least have some sympathy for Nina. You both had heart problems. You of all people should understand."

"But instead of cutting her any slack, you go after her just because she has feelings for me?"

I touched my cheek, already swelling. I looked at him.

"When exactly did I go after her?"

There was almost a laugh in my voice. "I came to finish my discharge paperwork. She grabbed me, told me I was a mistress, had a crowd cursing me out, and somehow this is my fault?"

Nina sat in her wheelchair, wiping her eyes. "I never called you a mistress. I would never say something like that."

It was the first time in my life I laughed out of pure bitterness.

Damian's hand had moved before he'd even thought about it. When he actually looked at my face, the swelling already blooming red, something stalled in him.

He hadn't meant to hit me.

But then Nina's crying pulled him back. "Damian — do you really think I'm that kind of person?"

"I know exactly what kind of person you are." Damian smoothed her hair, then turned back to me with a frown. "Quinn. You've really let me down."

I almost laughed again.

I see.

"You know exactly what kind of person she is."

"You've known me for thirty years. And you still don't know what kind of person I am."

I smiled at the irony of it, turned around, and finished my discharge paperwork without another word.

As I walked away, something twisted in Damian's chest that he couldn't explain.

"Excuse me."

A girl who'd been in line behind me spoke up, looking uncomfortable. "I was standing with her the whole time. I don't know what you want to believe, but she didn't do anything. The cameras are right there if you want to check. I'm only saying this because it wasn't right."

She left before anyone could respond.

Damian stood there.

"What's her problem?" Nina muttered, then realized Damian was watching her.

"Brother, you believe me, don't you? Don't listen to strangers—" She pressed a hand to her chest. "My heart again..."

Damian didn't say anything. But something had shifted in him that he couldn't name, something quiet and sour.

He wheeled Nina back to her room, stood to leave, and she grabbed his arm.

"Don't go. Stay with me."

The conflict in his face was visible. In the end he sat back down and touched her hair.

"Get some sleep."

By then I was already out on the street, and I suddenly realized I had nowhere to go.

After the wedding, my old apartment had been reclaimed by the family. We'd been living in a villa in Damian's name, a wedding gift from the Don, title deeds in his name.

Everything I owned?

Nothing.

A mob wife's entire estate was her husband's protection, and that protection had slowly become a blade.

I laughed at myself, quietly.

The sky was getting dark. The rain came back.

There was a bus stop across the street. The light turned green and I ran for it, hand over my head. Then a set of headlights cut through the dark and a horn blared: a black SUV, no plates, windows blacked out.

I turned my head toward it.

Then I was in the air.

Everything went red. The pain from my body was one thing, but the pain in my stomach was something else entirely, something that made me want to scream.

In that one instant I felt like I'd lost something. Something that had just barely been there.

I didn't even get to cry.

The world went dark.

One tear tracked slowly into my hair.

When I came around, I was looking at another hospital ceiling.

The EKG beeped its steady rhythm somewhere nearby.

I lay there staring at the ceiling until Vincent's voice cut through.

"Happy now?"

His voice was rough, close to cracking. I turned my head. His eyes were red, his suit creased all over, tie crooked, like he hadn't slept in days.

"Getting slapped around and not saying anything. Ending up in the ICU God knows how long. You're a masochist, Quinn. Jesus."

He wiped his eye, stood up. "Stay put. I'm going to get you lunch."

He came back with food and brought the doctor along.

The doctor checked me over, confirmed the wound wasn't infected, then said:

"I notice it's been Mr. Garcia looking after you this whole time. Is he your husband?"

I shook my head.

The doctor nodded. "You may want to notify your husband, at least. He should know."

"You were aware you were ten weeks pregnant?"

I went still.

"I'm... pregnant."

Something moved across the doctor's face. "Yes. But I'm sorry. You lost the baby."

I nodded. My face didn't change.

The doctor gave me the rest of the instructions and left. Vincent looked at me once, set down the food, squeezed my shoulder, and stepped out.

The room was just the EKG now.

I reached down and laid my hand gently against my stomach.

Thick bandages. A damp stain beginning to soak through.

A long moment passed.

Then I broke down and cried.

By the time I was mobile again, several more days had gone by.

The police, or rather the joint investigation unit that handled cases overlapping with family operations, came to take my statement once I'd stabilized. They told me they'd caught the driver. He'd done it deliberately. Attempted murder.

When I got to the station, I saw him. Young, barely an adult, they told me.

He was pacing around, trying to make calls, agitated.

"Sis! Figure something out! Aren't you with someone from the family now? Get him to pull some strings, get me out of here!"

An officer snatched the phone from his hand before he finished.

They put me in a waiting room to rest while they processed him. His name was Danny Brown.

Through the window from where I sat, I could see the intake area. His face nagged at me. I knew I'd seen it somewhere.

Then his sister came through the door, and I understood why. Nina Brown. Behind her, in a suit, was Damian.

I smiled to myself.

An officer explained the charges: deliberate vehicular assault, grievous bodily harm. Then he said:

"Because of his actions, a woman who was pregnant at the time suffered a miscarriage at the scene and nearly didn't survive two days in the ICU."

Nina shrugged. "Fine. Just tell us how much. My brother can put in a word with the family. This kind of thing gets handled."

Every officer in the room looked ready to lose it.

The detective spotted Damian. "Are you family of the victim as well? Because frankly, if everyone with a little money and connections thought they could buy their way out of anything, there'd be no point in any of us being here."

Damian pressed two fingers to his brow, grinding through his irritation. "What does the victim want? How much?"

One of the officers murmured something to the detective, who turned back. "The victim wants to speak with you directly."

"Fine, let's hear it. I want to see who has the nerve to come after my brother!" Nina's voice rose, then her breath snagged and she pressed a hand to her chest, coughing.

Damian said flatly, "Take us to them."

They brought them to the room where I was waiting.

I was pulling my hospital coat tighter, still pale. I looked up when the door opened.

Damian walked in. He stopped.

His eyes went wide.

I met his gaze and smiled, thin and colorless.

"I don't want money."

"I want his life in exchange."

"Or he could give me my baby back."