Suddenly I'm not in a bright, clean gallery—I'm back in twisted metal, consciousness floating in and out like a broken radio signal.That heavy, sweet perfume cutting through blood and smoke.
"Oh, my God!Are they dead?"
"No.Fuck, it's you."Scott's voice, sharp with recognition and fear.
"Should we call an ambulance?"At least she wanted to help.
"No.We need to go.Now."
"Do you know her?"
"Get in the car."
"We can't just leave her!She's still breathing."
"I said get in the fucking car now."
The gardenia scent grows stronger as footsteps approach, and more pieces surface—fragments I'd forgotten.The woman kneeling over Scott’s shoulder, her voice shaking as she whispers something about calling her sister, about how this wasn't supposed to happen.Scott's voice cutting through her panic, threatening her entire life if she breathes a word.The sound of her sobbing as she realizes she's trapped.
"This is wrong," the woman whispers, and I feel the weight of her presence."This is so wrong."
"Kelly, we're leaving.Now."
"But—"
"If you ever mention this to anyone, you'll regret it.Do you understand me?"
And then the gardenia scent fades, leaving me alone with the growing wail of sirens and the taste of my own blood.
"Nora?Hey, Nora!"
Nick's voice cuts through the memory like a lifeline, and I realize I'm standing frozen in the middle of the gallery, staring at the blonde woman with an intensity that probably looks unhinged.My hands are shaking, and my breathing has gone shallow and quick.
"Gardenia," I whisper, the word falling from my lips like a curse as I stare at the woman who was part victim, part accomplice to Scott.
Nick is beside me instantly, his hand on my shoulder.I watch him shift from confusion to understanding to protective fury as he puts the pieces together.But even in his anger, his first concern is me.
"Are you okay?You've gone pale," he says quietly, his voice pitched low so only I can hear."Do you need to sit down?"
I shake my head, unable to look away from the woman.
"It's her.The woman from the night of the accident."
Understanding dawns in Nick's eyes, followed by fierce protection that reminds me why Mom has fallen for this man.He steps slightly in front of me, not blocking my view but positioning himself like a shield against potential harm.
"Stay here," he says quietly, still somehow tempered by his concern for me."I'm going to talk to her, but I want you where I can see you, okay?"
The woman—Kelly—is still talking to her client, oblivious to the fact that her carefully constructed professional life is about to shatter.She gestures toward a frame, her movements graceful and practiced, and I find myself studying her face in profile, searching for traces of the person who'd wanted to help me that night.
Nick approaches her with the kind of controlled calm that suggests he's working very hard not to do something dramatic.I can't hear what he says, but I watch Kelly's face change as she turns to look at me, watch recognition dawn in her eyes followed immediately by something that looks like panic.
She takes a step back, her hand going to her throat in a gesture that screams flight, and that movement breaks whatever spell has been holding me in place.If she runs, if she disappears back into whatever life she's built after leaving me bleeding in that car, I might never get justice.
I move toward her, my legs feeling unsteady but determined.
"I remember you," I say, my voice carrying across the gallery with more strength than I expect.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies, but her voice is shaking, and she's looking toward the exit like she's calculating distances.
