Endless white surrounded her.

The sharp smell of antiseptic stung her nostrils.

A ventilator mask pressed hard against her face, each breath a struggle.

Consciousness returned slowly, painfully.

She was in a hospital.

Her vision cleared, blurry shapes sharpening into focus.

A man stood beside her bed, his expression tight with worry.

Lucas Grant.

Relief flooded her, so potent it made her dizzy.

Thank God it wasn't Ethan.

"Isabella." Lucas's voice was soft, careful. He gently touched her forehead. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

She managed a weak shake of her head.

Her throat was sandpaper.

"Water," she rasped, the word barely audible.

Lucas immediately poured a glass, holding it to her lips with steady hands.

The cool liquid was a blessing, soothing her raw throat.

"Get me out of here," she whispered, her fingers suddenly gripping his arm with surprising force. Desperation clawed at her voice. "Please, Lucas. Take me away from this place."

Her eyes were wide, haunted, staring at something only she could see beyond the sterile walls.

"I'd rather die than see Ethan Blackwood again."

Lucas's heart clenched at the raw terror in her gaze.

"The jet is on standby," he assured her, his tone low and calm. "We can leave whenever you say. But your injuries... they're serious. The doctors want to keep you for observation. A few more days. We're safe here, Isabella. This isn't New York. This is my city. Ethan can't touch you here."

Isabella shook her head violently, silent tears tracing paths down her pale cheeks.

"No. Now. I need to leave now," she insisted, her voice trembling but firm. "I can't stay here another second."

He saw the unyielding resolve in her eyes. Arguing was futile.

"Alright," he conceded with a heavy sigh. "We leave now." He stood, his frame silhouetted against the bright window, and made a quick, quiet call.

The memory of the crash slammed into her, vivid and terrifying.

The screech of tires.

The blinding impact.

The world spinning into darkness.

It had happened so fast. A violent end that wasn't an end.

But she had survived. Her heart was still beating, a fierce drum of defiance.

She clung to one thought: freedom. A life without Ethan.

"Lucas." Her voice broke as she opened her eyes, a desperate plea shining within them. "You have to help me. Make him believe I'm dead. It's the only way he'll ever..."

"Stop looking for me."

Lucas turned back to her, his features softening at the sight of her exhausted face, the profound fear etched into every line.