"My little girl was rushed to the hospital with a fractured hand, but the next morning my mother dropped to her knees and whispered, “Give your sister a way to live.”

The sun was sinking below the city skyline, painting the towering glass skyscrapers in bruised shades of purple and orange by the time I parked my battered Honda three blocks away from the luxury high-rise where Rachel lived.

It was a risky move—arguably the most insane thing I could have possibly done. If the FBI was tracking my credit cards, they would eventually trace my digital footprint here. But desperation makes people do impossible things.

I had left Lily with a trusted former neighbor from my old apartment complex—an elderly retired nurse named Mrs. Higgins who had always loved Lily and didn't ask questions when I dropped her off with a hurried, tearful plea and a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep her safe, Mrs. Higgins. Please. Just for a few hours. I have to fix something.”

Now, standing in the sleek, marble-floored lobby of Rachel’s luxury building, I pulled the hood of my dark sweatshirt low over my forehead and kept my head down, blending in with a group of wealthy residents returning from evening galas.

The front desk security guard was busy flirting with a delivery driver. I slipped past the glass turnstiles unhindered, stepped directly into Elevator Car Three, and pressed the button for the 28th floor.

Ding.

The doors slid open to reveal a quiet, dimly lit hallway lined with thick designer carpeting.

I walked down the corridor until I stopped in front of Unit 2802. Rachel’s door.

My hand hovered over the brass door handle. Did she have a security system? Yes, an expensive smart-lock keypad. But I knew Rachel. Rachel was fiercely arrogant, so convinced of her own untouchable perfection that she always left her spare key hidden in the exact same ridiculously predictable spot: inside the decorative faux-succulent planter sitting right outside her door.

I dropped to my knees, plunged my fingers deep into the dry artificial dirt of the ceramic pot, and my fingertips brushed against cold metal.

A small, brass key.

My heart skipped a beat. I pulled it out, slid it into the heavy deadbolt, and turned it.