"Do you honestly believe," Simon Ashford began, his voice a low purr of distilled malice, "that four walls and a 'VIP' label can protect you from me? That this hospital is a sanctuary where the laws of Riverbend don't apply?"
He stood alone in the center of the room, but he didn't need a squad of security guards to project power. He was the Young Master Ashford, the firstborn heir to an empire that owned the very air Serena breathed. He reached into the pocket of his tailored silk trousers and pulled out a slim, gold-plated smartphone. He tapped it against his palm with a rhythmic, hypnotic click.
"Believe me, Serena," he continued, his eyes locked on hers with a chilling vacancy, "one phone call is all it takes. I call Marcus Hartwell, and the hospital director himself will come crawlin
