Sylvia's lashes fluttered at the sound of approaching footsteps. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was.

Stella stood by the hospital bed, silent tears streaming down her face. She bit her lip hard, afraid to disturb the fragile figure beneath the white sheets.

"Big sis..." Stella finally choked out, her voice breaking.

Sylvia turned her face away, brows furrowed. She couldn't bear for her sister to see her like this.

Stella grabbed her hand, hot tears splashing onto the sterile bedding. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was? If you'd died, I wouldn't want to live either!"

Sylvia's shoulders trembled slightly. Memories flooded back—the cruel words she'd hurled at her sister, the shameful entanglement with Lucien Valois for money.

How ironic. What right did she have to lecture anyone?

"Does it hurt?" Stella asked softly.

Sylvia shook her head. She looked too wretched to even speak. The oxygen mask fogged with each shallow breath.

"I'm sorry..." Sylvia's whisper was feather-light.

Stella wiped her tears. "Jenna helped so much. If she hadn't pulled strings to find you..."

"Jenna?" Sylvia's eyes flickered with recognition.

"Her friend has connections at the police station," Stella explained. "When you recover, we must thank her properly."

Sylvia closed her eyes. She remembered the biting cold under the bridge, the terrifying sensation of blood leaving her body. Jenna had given her a second chance at life.

A phone rang abruptly.

"How is she?" Jenna's voice came through the receiver.

Stella glanced at the bed. "Badly injured, but stable."

"Yvonne won't let this go," Jenna said gravely. "Once she's discharged, you both should leave town."

Hanging up, Stella squeezed her sister's hand. "Let's go back home, sis."

Sylvia stared at the ceiling. She knew there was no choice. For Stella's sake, she had to survive.