Chapter 1

The cold air burned Noah Miller' s lungs.

Each step was a gamble, a fight against muscles that no longer obeyed. He stumbled out of the alley, leaning against a brick wall, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Freedom tasted like exhaust fumes and damp pavement.

He had escaped.

Just an hour ago, he was a patient at the Serenity Hills Wellness Center, a place that felt more like a prison. Emily Stone had put him there. His mentor, his producer, his tormentor. She said it was for his own good, to manage his "stress."

He knew it was to keep him under her thumb.

But today, he had a purpose that was stronger than her control. He clutched the thin folder in his jacket. Inside were the papers. The body donation agreement for the ALS research program at Johns Hopkins. His time was running out, the disease relentlessly claiming his body. This was the only thing he had left to give. His music was silenced, but his body could still have meaning.

He pushed himself off the wall and hailed a cab, the effort nearly sending him to his knees.

"University Hospital," he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper.

The cab ride was a blur of city lights and his own reflection in the window. A ghost of the man he used to be. The talented musician, the hopeful artist. Now, his face was gaunt, his eyes hollow.

Dr. Lena Hanson was waiting for him. She had been his lifeline, the one who secretly confirmed his real diagnosis after Emily' s paid doctor, Alex Reed, kept calling it a "treatable neuromuscular disorder."

"Noah, are you sure about this?" Dr. Hanson asked, her expression a mix of professional concern and personal sadness. She held the pen out to him.

"I'm sure," he said, his hand shaking as he took it. He scrawled his name on the signature line. It was done. A wave of relief washed over him, so potent it almost felt like peace.

"The compensation from the research program will be transferred to your account within the hour," she said softly. "Fifty thousand dollars. It' s not much, but it' s what they offer for immediate consent."

"It's enough," Noah said. Enough for a clean break. Enough to disappear from Emily' s world.

He left the hospital, the folder now a symbol of his final act of defiance. He checked his phone. The transfer was complete. He could buy a bus ticket, go somewhere quiet, and wait for the end on his own terms.

As he stood on the street corner, planning his next move, a black sedan screeched to a halt beside him.

Two large men in dark suits got out. He recognized them. They were Emily's security.

"Mr. Miller," the first one said, his voice flat. "Ms. Stone is very worried about you. You need to come back with us."

Panic seized him. He turned and ran. It was a pathetic, stumbling jog, his legs screaming in protest. The city sounds faded into a roar in his ears. He could hear their heavy footsteps closing in behind him.

He darted into the street, ignoring the blare of horns. A car swerved, its tires squealing. Noah lost his balance and fell, his body colliding with the fender of another car that had slammed on its brakes.

Pain shot through his side. He lay on the wet asphalt, the world spinning.

Then, a car door opened. A pair of expensive leather shoes stopped inches from his face.

He looked up.

It was Emily Stone.

Her face was a mask of cold fury. She stood over him, her shadow blocking out the streetlights. She looked impossibly beautiful and terrifying.

"Noah," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "What a mess you've made."

The men from her security team grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet. The pain in his side sharpened.

"Let me go," he rasped, struggling weakly.

"You ran away from the people trying to help you," Emily said, ignoring his plea. She reached out and brushed a piece of dirt from his cheek, her touch feeling like a brand. "You're not well."

"He attacked us, Ms. Stone," one of the men said. "He was trying to get away. He' s unstable."

It was a lie. A blatant, easy lie that she would believe because she wanted to.

Just then, the passenger door of Emily's car opened. David Chen stepped out, a smug look on his face.

"See, Emily?" David said, walking over to stand beside her. "I told you he couldn't be trusted. He's just like he was in the band. Always causing trouble."

David. The man who had made his life hell in their early days, the bully who took pleasure in his pain. And now, he was with Emily. Her partner. A fresh wave of despair crashed over Noah.

Emily wrapped her arm around David' s, a clear display of ownership. The sight was a physical blow.

He remembered the endless nights in the studio, the constant belittling from David, the casual cruelty. He remembered the humiliation.

But he also remembered Emily, back then. She had been his champion. She saw his talent when no one else did. She had protected him from David, pulling him aside, telling him to ignore the others, that his music was all that mattered.

"You're coming with me, Noah," Emily said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Her eyes were hard, and in their depths, he saw a flicker of something he knew all too well. It was the same look she' d had when she heard the news about her brother, Liam.

Liam. The real reason for all of this. Liam, their band's brilliant guitarist, who died in a fire five years ago.

A fire they said Noah started.

A fire Liam had actually set himself to escape a debt to dangerous people, making it look like Noah was the target to protect his own legacy. Liam' s last words to Noah were a plea. "Don't tell her the truth. Let her hate you. It's better than her knowing what I became. Protect her, Noah. Promise me."

And Noah had promised. He had carried that lie for five years, letting Emily's love twist into this obsessive, vengeful hatred. It was his penance.

"Get in the car," Emily commanded.

He didn't have the strength to fight. They pushed him into the back seat, and the door slammed shut, sealing him inside the darkness with her.