Chapter 1

The night my brother Chase was waiting for the emergency IV, the billing terminal flashed a single line.

ACCOUNT LOCKED — TRUSTEE OVERRIDE PENDING.

I called my fiancé, Adrian, to ask about the account.

His voice on the other end was ice.

"I froze it."

"Sheffield money is meant to create value. Not to be poured into someone who's already dying."

"Nora. Chase is your burden. Stopping his treatment is what's best for you."

"When he's gone, he'll be at peace."

Three minutes later, Sloane—his first love—posted the $6.2 million waterfront penthouse Adrian had just bought her.

He paid $6.2 million for her.

Chase died because we couldn't come up with $20,000.

A year later, Adrian's beloved sister was diagnosed with the same disease. A nationwide donor match campaign went live.

The only match was me.

The night the report came in, he knelt at my door, soaked through.

He pushed the keys to the Back Bay condo, the safe combination, and every last asset transfer document to my feet.

I crouched down and pushed everything back.

"Adrian. Your sister is your burden. Stopping her treatment is what's best for you."

"When she's gone, she'll be at peace."

***

The nurse opened the cold-chain box.

"Ms. Whitaker. The IV is thawed. Fifteen-minute window. If it isn't administered in time, it's discarded. You still cover half the cost."

The printer spat out the label.

EMERGENCY IV — DISCARD IF NOT ADMINISTERED WITHIN 15 MINUTES.

I slid the card through the window.

The machine chimed once.

ACCOUNT LOCKED.

The nurse frowned.

"His vitals keep dropping. This IV has to go in tonight."

I dialed Adrian.

He picked up fast.

"You froze the account?"

"I froze it."

My throat tightened.

"Adrian. Chase is waiting on this to stay alive."

"Don't hold your brother over my head again."

His voice was calm in a way that was cruel.

"Sheffield money is not meant to be poured into someone who's already dying."

The nurse cut in.

"Twelve minutes left."

I gripped the phone.

"That was my premarital savings."

Adrian let out a soft laugh.

"Three years ago, you transferred it into the family account yourself."

The account was named in the trust documents as The Whitaker–Sheffield Home Fund.

Back then, he'd said that once we were married, Chase would never have to beg him for anything. My family was his family.

I'd taken that as ground beneath my feet.

Now I understood. It had never been solid ground. It was the rope he'd looped around my neck.

A woman's soft voice drifted through the line.

"Adrian. Kate likes a place that gets morning sun."

Kate was the cat belonging to Adrian's first love, Sloane.

Adrian's voice went warm in an instant.

"Then switch it. I'll wire eight million. Go buy whichever one you want."

He didn't hang up. He even softened his tone.

"Nora. Your brother is your burden. Stopping his treatment is what's best for you."

"When he's gone, he'll be at peace."

The line went dead.

The nurse looked at the cold-chain box.

"Eight minutes left."

I opened Instagram.

Sloane had just posted a story.

A white ragdoll cat stepping across a deed. The address enlarged: Back Bay, overlooking the Charles.

Owner on record: Adrian Sheffield.

Around the cat's neck, a Tiffany diamond collar. Beside it, a handwritten card.

A real home for Sloane and Mimi.

Before I could react, the ER doors burst open.

"Family of Chase Whitaker."

I ran.

Chase lay on the gurney, the nasal cannula taped to a face without color.

Twenty-one years old, thin enough that his shoulder bones jutted through the gown.

On his pillow, still, the half-finished PowerScore LSAT Logic Games Bible, cracked open, a pen wedged into the spine.

He saw me and made his eyes curve into a smile.

"Nora. Did the IV come?"

I held his cold hand. I couldn't answer.

He watched my face. The smile slowly went out of him.

"It's okay. I'm tough."

The attending said quietly,

"The dose is expired. Tonight we can only continue supportive care."

My phone lit up again.

Adrian.

【Don't be stubborn. Come home.】

【Sloane only bought it under my name. The cat needed somewhere quiet.】

【Nora, you need to be reasonable.】

I looked at that last line, and I laughed.

So reasonable meant standing at a billing window, watching my brother die.