The city had long since gone quiet when Annalise finally leaned back in her chair, the last page of the contract sliding into the completed pile. The Lemington building stood like a silent sentinel against the midnight sky, its glass windows reflecting the cold glow of the moon.
Her desk phone buzzed, and she frowned. Only one person called her on this line at this hour.
"Grandma?" she answered, balancing the receiver between her shoulder and cheek while stacking documents.
Her Grandma's voice was tight, urgent. "Annalise, I need you to come to the safe house. Now. Beverly Hills. Don't argue."
Annalise blinked. "It's late—"
"We've been getting too many threats lately. It's not safe for you to stay there another night. I've already called the driver. Please."
Something in Delphine's tone—the faint tremor—cut through her instinct to resist. She sighed, grabbed her coat, and shut off the desk lamp.
The city lights blurred past as her car climbed toward Beverly Hills. Annalise sat in the backseat, scrolling through emails, the faint hum of the tires beneath her. The road narrowed, winding into a quieter stretch where streetlamps stood farther apart.
She barely noticed the twin beams appearing in the opposite lane until they were blinding.
"Watch out!" the driver yelled—
And then there was nothing but steel, glass, and gravity spinning out of control.
The truck's impact was deafening. Metal crumpled, glass shattered, and the world turned sideways. The car flipped once, twice—before slamming onto its roof with a bone-rattling crunch.
Pain lanced through Annalise's arm, hot and sharp. Her head throbbed, warm wetness seeping into her hair. The seatbelt dug into her ribs, every breath a struggle. She tried to move, but darkness was already creeping in from the edges.
Delphine and Rezi arrived in chaos—sirens, flashing lights, paramedics shouting.
"She's my Granddaughter! Let me through!" Delphine cried, trying to push past a paramedic until Rezi caught her arm.
Annalise was pulled from the wreckage, limp and bloodied, an oxygen mask pressed to her face. Her right arm hung at an unnatural angle, and crimson soaked her temple.
"She's crashing! Move!"
Delphine's breath hitched. "I can't lose you too," she whispered, voice breaking.
Rezi fumbled for her phone, dialing with shaking hands. "Han—Clyde—you need to come now! She's in the ER—no, it's bad—please hurry!" Her voice cracked, panic lacing every word.
Inside the trauma bay, the world was all fluorescent light and urgency. Nurses clipped monitors to Annalise's chest, her heartbeat a weak but steady blip on the screen. IV lines were threaded into her arms, oxygen hissed into the mask, and gloved hands worked with quiet speed.
"She's stable—for now," the lead doctor said. "But she's unconscious. We'll run a full scan."
Han and Clyde burst into the hospital minutes later, both breathing hard.
"Where is she?" Han demanded.
"ER," Rezi choked out. Clyde pulled her into a brief hug before stepping back, scanning the hallway like he was already hunting for answers.
Han placed a steadying hand on Delphine's shoulder. "She's going to be fine," he said, though the rawness in his eyes betrayed the storm behind his words.
The doctor returned. "She survived the initial stabilization. We're moving her to the ICU for observation and scans. Still unconscious."
Clyde lingered near the nurses' station, quietly asking about the crash site. When he heard it was a nearly deserted road with almost no traffic, his brow furrowed. "So why was a truck even there?" he murmured under his breath.
His question found its answer miles away.
Carlos sat in his office, the glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows. Across from him, two truck drivers counted thick stacks of cash.
"Mission successful," he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Pleasure doing business."
Back at the hospital, the doctor emerged again, face grim.
"The scans show internal bleeding in the abdomen. And... a blood clot."
"How big?" Clyde asked sharply.
"Bigger than I'd expect this soon. I've never seen one form this fast." The doctor shook his head. "She needs immediate surgery."
Delphine's hands flew to her mouth. Rezi's knees buckled, Clyde catching her before she could fall.
The elevator doors opened—and Carlos stepped into the waiting room. His expensive suit was crisp, his expression the picture of polite concern.
Every head turned.
Clyde's hand slid into his pocket, thumb pressing record on his phone.
"Well," Carlos said lightly, "I heard my niece was in an accident. Thought I should pay my respects."
"You have no right to call her your niece," Delphine snapped, stepping forward. "No right to come here after what you've done."
Carlos's lips curved in a slow, cold smile. "Oh, Mother... didn't I warn you? If the girl wouldn't hand over the inheritance, I'd take her out of the picture. Simple as that."
The words hit like another crash. Delphine swayed, nearly collapsing, but Rezi and Clyde caught her.
Han's hand shot out, gripping Carlos by the collar. "You're going to regret every single thing you've done to her."
Carlos didn't flinch. "If you really care about the girl, you'll think twice about touching me." His guards stepped forward, shoving Han back.
The surgical team wheeled Annalise past at that moment, her pale face barely visible under the oxygen mask.
Delphine reached for her hand as she passed. "Stay with us, Annalise," she whispered.
Carlos turned and walked toward the exit, that same smirk fixed on his face.
Clyde's hand tightened around the phone in his pocket, the recording still running.
The doors to the operating room swung shut.
Blackout.