The woman who struck me spat the words with venom, her eyes brimming with contempt and disgust.

My head swam. My cheek burned like it had been pressed against a hot stove. Despair and fury crashed through me in equal measure.

Security guards charged up the stairs, shouting.

"This is a hospital! Clear out now, or we're calling the police!"

The moment a gap opened, I threw myself up the remaining flights.

But the instant I burst through the door of the hospital room, every ounce of strength drained from my body.

Margaret lay still on the bed. Her face was the color of parchment, her lips completely bloodless.

Her attending physician stood at the bedside, his expression heavy with regret. When he saw me, he let out a quiet sigh.

"Miss Whitfield, I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

My pupils contracted. The room tilted, darkened at the edges, and my knees nearly buckled.

A nurse caught my arm and steadied me, her voice low.

"She was fine just an hour ago. Then a woman came into the room, said a few things to her, and they got into an argument. That's when she collapsed."

"When you didn't come to sign the consent forms, we activated the emergency protocol, but the donor backed out at the last minute."

Grief pressed down on my chest like a slab of concrete. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't cry. Not a single sound would come.

Slowly, I pulled free of the nurse's hands and moved to the bedside, one leaden step at a time. I took Margaret's hand. It was ice cold.

The woman who had given me warmth and strength when I had nothing left in the world would never open her eyes again.

I carried her to the funeral home myself. After the cremation, I laid her to rest in a quiet little cemetery, a simple burial in a peaceful plot of earth.

After kowtowing three times, I dragged my numb body to the River Bridge. Standing at the railing, I recorded a video and set it to publish on a timer, then uploaded it.

Without a shred of hesitation, I jumped.

At that moment, Anthony was in the obstetrics wing with Victoria for her prenatal checkup. The two of them were discussing baby names.

His assistant's call cut through the conversation, the voice on the other end frantic.

"Mr. Henson, something's happened. Miss Whitfield jumped off the bridge!"