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I step out of the elevator with my bag tucked against my side, making sure the white envelope stays hidden inside it, and smile when I spot Kira’s car waiting near the curb outside the hospital.

“Emma.”

My feet stop before I even think about it.

Spencer pushes away from a column near the entrance, his sunglasses hiding his eyes and the familiar smile on his face doing nothing to soften the knot twisting in my stomach.

“I’ve been calling,” he says as he closes the distance between us.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping one hand wrapped around my bag.

“I came to see you.”

I hold his gaze. “You came because you heard I collapsed.”

His smile falters before slipping back into place. “I was worried.”

I don’t answer because we’ve both heard that line before, and neither of us believes it anymore.

His attention drops to my bag, lingering just long enough to make my grip tighten before he looks back at me. “What’s going on with you?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

Frustration flashes across his face as he steps closer. “You disappear with Bane Wolf every chance you get, then he carries you out of a gala in front of half of Manhattan. You expect me to ignore that?”

I match his step by moving back toward the curb, putting space between us, keeping Kira’s car in my peripheral vision. “What you choose to ignore stopped being my problem a long time ago.”

His expression hardens. “You owe me a lot more than that.”

I meet his stare without looking away. “I don’t owe you anything.”

I move toward Kira’s car, but Spencer catches my wrist before I make it past him. My body tenses. I instinctively pull my bag closer against my side.

“Let go,” I say, keeping my eyes on his.

His grip tightens just enough to stop me walking away. “You’ve changed. You used to hear me out.”

“I spent four years hearing you out.”

His mouth presses into a thin line as his gaze searches my face. “Is this because of Bane?”

I shake my head. “It’s because I finally stopped making excuses for you.”

The words hang between us, his expression shifts from disbelief to irritation, as though he’s still trying to figure out why this conversation isn’t following the script he’s written in his head.

I twist my wrist until his fingers loosen, then pull free and take another step back. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

Before Spencer can answer, Kira crosses the parking lot and steps between us, fixing him with a look that could strip paint from a wall. “Walk away, Spencer.”

Spencer ignores her and looks straight at me instead. His attention drops to the bag clutched against my side before returning to my face.

“Whatever you’re hiding,” he says, “I’ll find out.”

He walks away without waiting for an answer, and I stay where I am until his car disappears through the hospital exit.

Only then do I look down and realize I’ve crushed the white envelope against my chest. I smooth my thumb over the bent corner before slipping it safely back into my bag.

Kira studies me for a long beat before her eyes drift to the envelope. “Emma,” she says carefully, “what happened?”