Chapter Eight In court. Ivy Summers sat at the defense table, all doe-eyed and fragile. She kept looking to Ethan beside her, begging with her gaze. "Doc... w-we're not going to prison, are we?" she whispered, face bloodless. "You'll be fine. I won't let anything happen to you," Ethan said, drawing a breath. I put every piece of evidence on the record: my recordings with my in-laws, and the security footage Ethan had deleted in Medical Affairs-the copy my hacker friend had restored. On the screen, Ethan walked into the OR and didn't so much as glance at the patient. He broke sterile protocol, pulled his mask down, and kissed Ivy on hers. He ordered Ivy-an intern-to lead a decompressive craniotomy. Ivy stood at the table, dithering-she didn't even know how to use half the instruments. A decompressive craniectomy isn't high-risk by itself, but it is skull-open surgery. The intern took a blade to Ethan's sister's scalp-opened a big, ugly cut-and blood fountained. She just kept sawing. When things went wrong, Ethan didn't check the patient. He softly comforted Ivy instead. "This isn't malpractice-it's a reckless disregard for human life!" "Monsters like that don't belong in a hospital. Throw the book at him!" "How did someone like that ever become a doctor?" The jurors stood up, furious. My own stomach turned. If that had really been my family on that table-what would I have felt watching this? The evidence was ironclad. Ethan didn't bother with excuses. He took it all on himself: he was Ivy's mentor; he'd forced her to operate to pad her experience; she bore no blame, "I killed my own sister," he said, voice raw. "Judge, whatever sentence you hand down, I'll take it. But Ivy is innocent. She has a bright future. Please don't let my mistake ruin her life." My in-laws lost it, cursing him until the bailiff had them removed. A flicker of relief crossed Ivy's eyes. "I have one more exhibit," I said, calm, and produced another video. Ethan stared, incredulous, then pointed and cursed. "Serena Stone, what else do you want? Haven't you wrecked me enough?" Chapter Eight 7.34% He lunged; officers pinned him back. With the case already all but decided, he couldn't imagine what I had left. I looked at him, smiling thinly. He'd covered for the killer who took his sister's life-then tried to dump the blame on me. I'd once loved a man like this. I was sick to my stomach. I pressed play. Ivy shot to her feet, the breath she'd been holding shattering. "Don't play that!" Too late. On screen, the same "poor, innocent" Ivy lounged with her ankle hooked over her knee, swirling a glass of red. Pretty face, wrong kind of smile. "Heh. I tanked his wife's sister on purpose on the table," she purred. "She'll divorce him for sure. That old man is already obsessed with me." "I've got plenty of proof of his kickbacks. Once we're married, I'll tip the authorities off. His house, his savings? Mine. Ha! That geezer thinks I actually like him." "Every time he's on top of me, I want to puke."