Inside, my blood ran cold.

They were writing a story where I was unstable, self-medicating, and dangerous to myself.

“We should go before she wakes up,” Courtney whispered, her heels clicking softly on the linoleum. “The press will be outside the main entrance soon.”

“Wait,” Jared said. “I need to make sure the sedative is still holding.”

I felt his shadow fall over the bed.

His hand reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead.

The touch made my skin crawl, but I remained perfectly still.

I let my jaw slacken slightly, my lips parting as if caught in a deep, drug-induced slumber.

“She’s out cold,” Jared muttered, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with a terrifying, hollow tenderness. “She won’t remember a thing about the tea.”

“Good,” Courtney said. “Let’s leave Dr. Sterling to handle the rest.”

Their footsteps moved toward the heavy wooden door of the private suite.

The lock clicked into place as the door drifted shut behind them.

I waited, counting the seconds in my head, listening to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.