They had spent the whole summer acting careful. My mother clipped coupons in front of me and sighed over grocery prices. My father shook his head when I suggested one quiet weekend away together, like I had asked him to buy a second house instead of share a motel room and a diner breakfast. “This summer we’re staying in,” Mom told me. “It’s just too much.” I believed her because believing them had become a reflex, even after years of little disappointments. They knew I kept one reserve account for emergencies, and they knew my health was the reason I guarded it like oxygen. At 3:08 in the morning, my phone buzzed hard enough to wake me. The notification said $9,860 had been withdrawn from my reserve fund. I sat up so fast the room tilted, opened the banking app, and watched my own life turn into someone else’s vacation. There were first-class flights to Mykonos. There was a luxury suite, a private driver, designer shops, spa treatments, and restaurant holds that cost more than my rent. Every charge use

Audrey stared at the door.

Footsteps approached from the hallway.

Slow.

Measured.

The handle began to turn.

The door opened three inches.

Audrey tightened her fingers around the unfamiliar phone and slid it beneath the blanket.

The footsteps stopped.

A shadow stretched across the floor.

Then Diana Cruz stepped into the room.

She carried two paper cups and a thin hospital blanket folded over one arm.

Audrey did not move.

For half a second, relief rose inside her.

Then the warning flashed through her mind.

DO NOT LET DIANA RETURN TO THE ROOM.

Diana closed the door quietly.

“You’re awake.”

Audrey watched her face.

The same calm expression.

The same controlled posture.

Nothing in her manner suggested danger.

That was what frightened Audrey most.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Speaking with hospital security.”