Scarlet’s wrist was bandaged from the slashes she’d made in her desperation to drown out the emotional agony with physical pain.

An IV was dripped into her arm.

Her mother, Eva Thompson, sat beside her, eyes red and puffy, clutching her hand tightly.

“You’re awake,” she choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Oh, thank God.“

Scarlet hissed bitterly, then turned away, shame and anger bubbling inside her.

They should have just let her die!

She didn’t want pity.

She didn’t want comfort.

She wanted only Sebastian.

She wanted her life back.

“Sweetheart, why?” her mother whispered. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

Scarlet’s lips parted, but no words...