Chapter 1My adopted sister, Isla, arranged a family checkup.
Last time around, she held up a fake report and announced that I was pregnant.
They even planted prenatal vitamins and fake text messages in my room.
Dad was so furious that he kicked me out of the house.
I died in a car crash that night during a violent storm.
Meanwhile, Isla took over my mom's charitable foundation and became the family's golden girl.
When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day of the family checkup.
This time, I let Grandpa go first.
Twenty minutes later, Isla stood at the door, holding up a report with tears in her eyes.
"How could you hide your pregnancy from the family?"
Just then, Grandpa came out of the exam room, leaning on his cane.
"I went in for a checkup, and now I'm pregnant?!"
...
"Nobody's skipping checkups today. We all need to take care of ourselves."
Isla handed Aunt Vivian a water bottle, her gray cardigan sleeves rolled up neatly.
The relatives in the hospital lounge smiled and thanked her.
"Isla's always so thoughtful. Last time my back hurt, she's the one who took me to get it checked."
"Not like my daughter. All she does is shop."
Isla smiled. "It's really nothing. I just had some free time anyway."
I sat by the window and noticed the thin silver chain around her neck.
She'd worn it for four years.
Every time Dad offered to buy her jewelry, she'd say something like,
"Maybe we could put that toward the scholarship fund instead?"
So the relatives praised her humility, and Dad praised her maturity.
Even the jewelry she turned down became proof of my vanity when it ended up with me.
My mom's pearl earrings?
"Those are too much," Isla said.
Then she took Mom's old charity photos and filmed a promotional video for the foundation.
I used to think she genuinely meant well.
Until last time, when she stood in this waiting area and announced that I was pregnant.
That day, Grandpa's heart was acting up.
The doctor wanted to keep him for observation.
Dad had his assistant stay with him and came back early.
He walked in just as Isla called out to me, her voice breaking.
"Kira, something this serious... why didn't you tell the family?"
I said the report was fake. I wanted a retest.
Dad snatched my phone right out of my hand.
"Planning to get your story straight with someone?"
Mrs. Palmer, Isla's nanny, was already calling the house.
Less than thirty minutes later, they'd torn through my closet and found a pill bottle.
Text messages and hotel receipts were spread across the coffee table for everyone to see.
A nurse swore I'd known about the pregnancy for weeks.
I asked her which exam room she'd supposedly seen me in.
She couldn't answer.
But Dad thought I was embarrassing him.
He slapped me so hard my face whipped to the side.
The next day was the relaunch of Mom's education foundation—the Hartwell Scholars Program.
I'd spent six months on it.
Visiting underfunded schools, revising grant proposals, writing speeches late into the night.
My notes were still on my nightstand.
Dad said I'd lost the right to represent Mom's legacy.
Isla stepped in.
"Don't stress yourself, Dad. I'll cover for now. We can revisit this when Kira's ready."
She picked up my speech notes.
At the launch ceremony, she stood exactly where I was supposed to stand.
Dad applauded.
He took the keys to Mom's lake house—the one she'd left me—and locked up all the inheritance documents.
He told me to leave and reflect on what I'd done.
I called Grandpa in the pouring rain.
Someone else answered. Said he needed rest.
On the way to the hospital, a truck lost control and slammed into my cab.
Glass shattered across my legs.
Blood mixed with rainwater, soaking into the seat.
Now I was back. My phone screen read 8:20 a.m.
Ten minutes until the first appointment.
Dad was sitting next to Isla, telling her to take a break.
Isla walked over to the table and picked up the basket holding the appointment cards.
"If anyone gets results they'd rather keep private, just tell me first. I'll keep it between us."
Her voice was soft.
But her eyes locked onto me.
Chapter 2
Grandpa settled into the couch and took the glasses his assistant Fiona handed him.
Dad rarely skipped work on a weekday.
Grandpa still held the chairman seat, which meant getting his CEO son to spend a morning at a family health screening required some serious schedule juggling.
"Thanks for setting this up, Isla."
Dad said.
Mrs. Palmer jumped in right away.
"She was up till two in the morning. I checked on her twice."
Isla tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Mrs. Palmer, please. It's really nothing."
Aunt Vivian pulled her down to sit.
"You never say anything. How's anyone supposed to know how much you do?"
Isla handed the appointment cards to Mrs. Palmer, then turned to me.
"Kira, you coming?"
I nodded.
That little smile she'd prepared didn't quite disappear in time.
This hospital had a family screening area—a few private exam rooms sharing a common waiting lounge.
The appointment cards made it easier to call people in.
Once inside, you still had to show your ID, and the doctor would write individual test orders.
Isla was coordinating everything.
She'd collect any results family members were willing to share with her, then have a doctor explain them all together.
She wasn't a doctor.
But she'd accompanied relatives to so many appointments that everyone started thinking she understood more than she actually did.
Nurse Rowan rolled a cart full of files over and parked it next to Isla's laptop.
"We'll go by number. Family can wait with the older folks, but don't pack into the exam rooms."
Under the table, I texted my nanny Diana.
She'd stayed home today to make soup.
"Diana, Can you keep an eye on my bedroom?
If anyone says they need to grab something from there, call me first.
Especially if Mrs. Palmer sends Zoey."
She replied quickly: "What's going on?"
I stared at those words, my throat tightening.
Last time, she got back too late.
She'd chased my cab down the driveway, shouting through the window that I could use her savings if I needed it.
Dad had the security guard hold her back.
I typed: "I'm worried someone might plant something in there. Don't argue with anyone—just get security and take photos first."
Diana sent back: "Okay."
Then I asked her to lock my fountain pen and speech notes in the drawer.
Years ago, Mom had used that pen to write the names of the first group of kids we helped through the foundation.
Tomorrow, I was bringing it myself.
Diana said, "Don't worry. I won't give it to anyone."
I gripped my phone a little tighter.
At least this time, someone was protecting my things.
I left the conversation on my screen before looking up.
Mrs. Palmer had already walked over, tilting the basket slightly so one card slid to the top.
"Miss Kira."
Her thumb pressed down on the corner.
She didn't let go until she saw my hand reach out.
I didn't pull from the ones underneath.
I took the one she handed me. On the back was a hospital floor map.
I flipped it over. A big number six in the center.
And in the bottom right corner—a tiny red dot.
I rubbed it with my fingertip.
It wouldn't come off.
Chapter 3
"Your lucky number. That's a good sign, Miss Kira."
Mrs. Palmer smiled.
I held the card upright in my palm and smiled back.
"I could use some luck."
Isla was on the phone, saying she'd gather everyone's results shortly.
She wedged the phone against her shoulder and kept typing, eyes fixed on the screen.
Nurse Rowan glanced at my card, then rolled the cart into the print room.
The door at the end of the hall clicked shut.
Grandpa tried to stand. His knee buckled.
Fiona caught him just in time.
I got up and walked over. "Room six is closer. The chair inside has armrests. You can take mine, Grandpa."
Grandpa looked at me.
"You sure you don't mind waiting?"
"I'm fine. Take your time."
I opened my hand and took the number seven card from Fiona, handing her mine.
Fiona glanced at the receptionist.
The receptionist nodded.
"Switching order is fine. Just bring your ID."
Mrs. Palmer came over with the empty basket, about to say something—but Grandpa spoke first.
"I'm cold."
"Get the blanket from the car."
She didn't dare stall. Headed straight for the elevator.
I helped Grandpa down the short hallway behind the privacy screen.
At the door to room six, the doctor took his ID and confirmed his name and birthdate first.
"Mr. Montgomery, did you bring your medications?"
Fiona opened her bag and pulled out a pillbox.
I listened as the doctor asked each question, and Grandpa answered each one.
The number six card sat on the small table.
That red dot looked especially bright against the stark white room.
Grandpa turned and waved me off. "Go on. Don't wait around. Fiona's here."
I didn't leave right away.
Last time, by the time I found out he was hospitalized, Dad had already banned me from seeing him.
I never got to say a single word asking him to hear me out.
Now his hand was warm, resting on mine. He patted it twice.
I said quietly, "When you're done, don't leave yet. Wait for me."
"Sure. We'll grab lunch together."
He said it casually.
But I didn't let myself breathe until I was inside room seven.
The doctor seeing me was a woman with short hair.
"Kira Montgomery, correct?"
I said yes.
When she reached for the blood pressure cuff, I flinched back slightly.
She paused. "Nervous? We can take a minute."
I shook my head.
Put my arm back and asked her to proceed normally.
This was my second chance.
Through the door, I heard the wheels of the file cart rolling.
Isla's voice rang out: "Well. We're at room six now."
