I married Adrian to save my daughter’s life, even though I knew people would judge me for it. But on our wedding night, he handed me an envelope with Lisa’s name on it, and what I discovered inside changed everything I believed about his family, my daughter, and the accident.

I married the twenty-year-old millionaire I cared for because my daughter was running out of time, and I had already run out of every other option. But on our wedding night, he gave me a crimson envelope with Lisa’s name on it and said, “This was why I really needed you.”

I kept telling myself I was not a terrible mother for accepting. I told myself there were worse things than being judged by strangers. There were hospital bills. There were doctors speaking in careful voices. There was my daughter, Lisa, lying motionless in a bed while time kept slipping away.

But on our wedding night, Adrian handed me a crimson envelope with Lisa’s name written across the front.

“Open it,” he said.

I stared at him.

My comatose daughter’s name was in my new husband’s pocket.

“Adrian,” I said, “why is my daughter’s name on that?”

His fingers tightened around the envelope. “Because there is no way back now, Kirsten. There is no way out of this.”