My husband poured boiling water over me whenever I got pregnant, screaming that he would keep doing it until I gave him a son.

The hospital room felt as though the air had been sucked out of it.

Luke stood entirely frozen, his phone still dangling loosely from his right hand, his knuckles stark white. His jaw twitched, the polished, charismatic mask he had worn for eight years slipping away to reveal the raw, calculating terror beneath.

"Who gave you that number?" he hissed under his breath, his voice vibrating with venom. "Caroline, hang that phone up right now."

"Step back, sir," the nurse ordered firmly, placing her entire body between Luke and my bed. "Step away from the patient, or hospital security will remove you in zip-ties."

"I am her husband!" Luke bellowed, his voice echoing off the sterile tiles. Outside the door, footsteps approached quickly. Two hospital security guards in dark tactical uniforms appeared in the doorway, their hands resting on their utility belts.

From the receiver pressed to my ear, my sister’s voice cut through the chaos like a silver blade.

"Caroline? Caroline, listen to my voice," Maya said, her tone sharp, authoritative, and utterly devoid of fear. "Do not let him leave that hospital. Tell the nurses to initiate a Code Purple. The police are already on their way."

Tears hot as boiling water flooded my eyes, stinging the raw, blistered skin across my collarbone and neck. "Maya... he... he burned me. He burned me on purpose."

"I know, baby. I know what he did," Maya said, her breath steady. "And this is the last day Luke Vance ever breathes free air. Stay on the line. I’m pulling into the ambulance bay right now."

"Caroline!" Luke lunged forward, ignoring the nurse, his eyes wide and wild. "She’s poisoning your mind! You had an episode! You pulled the pot down on yourself because you were manic!"

Before he could reach the edge of the mattress, the two security guards intercepted him, slamming him against the far wall. The loud thud shook the framed medical certificates hanging near the door.

"Get your hands off me! Do you know who my family is?" Luke snarled, writhing against the guards' grip. "My father sits on the municipal planning commission! I donate hundreds of thousands to this exact hospital network! You touch me, and you’ll be working night patrol at an abandoned strip mall by Monday!"

"Sir, you are under administrative detention pending police arrival," the older security officer said calmly, wrenching Luke’s arms behind his back.

The door burst open again. A woman strode in wearing a sharp charcoal suit and rain-slicked trench coat. Maya.

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't seen my sister in nearly four years. The last time Luke let her into our home, he had staged a massive confrontation, claiming Maya had stolen my jewelry and tried to seduce him in our kitchen. He had manipulated the security footage, edited the audio, and threatened to ruin Maya’s career as an investigative forensic accountant if she ever contacted me again. He told me she was toxic, that she hated me, that she had blocked my number.

I had believed him. God help me, I had believed him.

Maya didn't look at Luke. She didn't even acknowledge the guards holding him against the wall. She walked straight to my bedside, her eyes welling with tears as she took in the horrific sight of my bandaged chest, my blistered skin, and the hollow, ghost-like appearance of my sunken cheeks.

"Oh, Caroline," she whispered, her voice breaking for just a second before hardening into pure diamond. She gently placed a trembling hand over my uninjured wrist. "I'm here. I’m here, sweet girl. He is never, ever going to touch you again."

"Maya," Luke sneered from the corner, laughing bitterly. "Look at you. Still playing the heroic big sister. Caroline is legally incompetent. Her medical power of attorney belongs to me. You have zero legal authority in this room."

Maya slowly turned her head. The cold smile on her lips made Luke’s smirk wither instantly.

"Actually, Luke, your power of attorney was revoked three hours ago," Maya said, pulling an embossed leather folder from beneath her arm. "Along with your access to Caroline’s trust funds, your board seat at the Vance Foundation, and your freedom."

Luke blinked, his face draining of color. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you really think I spent the last three years crying on my couch because you forged a restraining order against me?" Maya asked, taking a step toward him. "Did you really think I didn't notice the patterns? Every time Caroline got pregnant, she vanished for weeks. Every time she miscarried, you bought a new vintage sports car. You thought you were so brilliant, Luke. But you made one catastrophic mistake."

"You're insane," Luke spat, though sweat was now beading across his forehead. "You have no proof of anything."

"I don't need proof of your sick mind games anymore," Maya replied coolly. "Because Detective Miller from the Special Victims Unit and Agent Carter from the State Financial Crimes Division are waiting right outside this door. And they aren't here about an accidental burn. They’re here for attempted murder, feticide, and grand larceny."