Chapter 4

An overwhelming dread washed over me. I felt like I'd plunged into an ice bath.

I watched helplessly as he called Chief Jonathan Law. "Chief, about my liver donation for Emily Morgan... I need you to pay extra close attention to it."

He didn't ask. He stated it.

I couldn't hear the other end, but Lauren chuckled. "Don't panic. Claire already came to me. Past grudges are past grudges, but lives are at stake. I know the priorities."

His gentle smile made my blood run cold.

Lauren didn't need Jonathan to say anything outright.

Just the slightest hint, and he'd piece together the whole truth.

On the other end of the line, Jonathan finally broke his silence and let out a relieved sigh.

He believed me, and he felt relieved.

Lauren's smile lingered as he hung up the phone, unhurried, right after hearing that sigh.

Richard went white as a sheet and hurried out in a fluster.

Lauren slowly put his phone away, his gaze dropping to me, a faint smile still lingering on his face.

He was already close, but he took another step toward me.

My mind went completely blank, and I instinctively stepped back.

As I spun around in a panic, he caught my shoulder in one swift move.

In just a split second, my back slammed hard against the wall next to the elevator.

My ears were ringing, and my vision blurred for a moment.

Still caught in panic and disbelief, I caught a glimpse of Lauren. his eyes were blazing red, wild and intense.

Five years. Reuniting after five years, his seething hatred poured out.

I trembled, opening my mouth but finding no words.

For a second, I felt like he was going to kill me.

For a second, I felt like he was going to kill me. It felt like his scream during that final phone call five years ago. "Claire, what gives you the right to keep breathing?"

His grip sent shooting pain through me. He ground the words out through clenched teeth. "Claire, how dare you? How... dare you?!"

My scalp went numb. I forced out a plea. "I... I had no choice. Lauren, please help me. I'll do whatever you want."

His hand moved up, gripping my throat mercilessly.

I saw nothing but unhinged fury. "Help you? Claire, it's been five years.

"Do you have any idea how many nights I dreamed of killing you and your sister with my own hands?"

I didn't know what to say.

After what felt like forever, all I could do was choke out, "I'm sorry."

Lauren's eyes were bloodshot, and I could see a haze of tears gathering in them. "Before my mother passed, chemotherapy had destroyed her marrow.

"She lay in isolation, waiting for a transplant.

"But the match was gone, because you sold the information. She withered away, piece by piece.

"Right before she died, she asked me, 'Lauren, it hurts so much. Why haven't they done the transplant yet?'"

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't tell if it was his hand around my throat, or if it was the memories from five years ago closing in on me.

Lauren leaned in, staring into my eyes.

It felt like his glare was so sharp, it could cut right through my heart.

He'd only ever had one mom in his life.

Just like I'd only ever had one sister.

Lauren gave a bitter laugh. In his eyes, I saw nothing but raw, desperate hatred.

He said, "Claire, teach me how to help you. Teach me how I'm supposed to stop myself from killing you right now."

My vision blurred. I couldn't see his face at all anymore.

Just as my consciousness was starting to fade, he suddenly let go of me.

I collapsed to the floor, and his voice was suddenly eerily calm.

He spoke with chilling indifference, each word deliberate. "Maybe this is your karma. The perfect donor is standing right in front of you, but you'll just have to watch her die.

"Exactly like my mother did."

A young woman hurried over, worried. "Lauren, what happened?"

In my daze, I saw him wrap his arm around her.

His voice returned to its gentle tone. "It's nothing. I'm calling off the donation. Let's go home, like you wanted."

I struggled to my feet, stumbling and staggering toward them, desperate to stop him.

But when I looked up, they were already gone.

All strength left me, and I hit the ground hard.

Before I blacked out, I heard Ethan calling my name. "Claire, what happened?"

Through the haze, it sounded like the first time Lauren had ever said my name.

Claire, Claire...

*****

The first time I met Lauren was at my mom's funeral when I was eighteen.

My mother, Victoria Morgan, was a pillar of the medical research world.

Philanthropic, capable, and beautiful—the press loved her.

The memorial was packed. Weeping echoed through the hall.

When Lauren walked in, looking solemn with a bouquet, I was dozing off in the corner.

Seeing my head bowed, he assumed I was crying.

He walked over, handed me a tissue, and said, "My condolences. Victoria was a saint. She's in a better place."

I had no intention of talking to him, just like I had no interest in the parade of idiots attending the service.