A week before my wedding, my fiancé paid for a man to destroy my face with acid so he could secretly marry another woman. While pretending to remain unconscious in a private room at the hospital, I overheard him say, “After this, who would ever want her?”

Dr. Harrison spun around instantly. "Hey! You can't be in here! This is a restricted—"

Rachel didn't say a word. She stepped forward, pulled a heavy black taser from her paramedic utility belt, and jammed it directly into Dr. Harrison’s side.

BZZZZZZT!

Harrison’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the linoleum floor like a sack of wet flour.

Rachel quickly locked the room door and turned to me, her face pale, her hands shaking as she tucked the taser back into her belt. She looked at the exposed right side of my face, her breath catching in her throat.

"Oh, God, Maya..." Rachel gasped, her eyes brimming with genuine horror. "I... I am so sorry..."

"Save it," I snapped, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Pain shot through my spine, but I forced my legs to swing over the side. "Did you bring the equipment?"

Rachel pulled a heavy black backpack from her shoulders and set it on the bed. "Everything you asked for. A mobile broadcast transmitter, an encrypted link to every major news network's live satellite stream, and the full audio leaks from my father's private server."

"Good," I said, standing up on shaky legs. My knees buckled slightly, but I grabbed the metal IV pole to steady myself. "Logan’s press conference starts in thirty minutes in the main auditorium downstairs."

"What's the plan?" Rachel asked, her voice trembling.

"Logan thinks he's going to stand in front of fifty national news cameras and cry for the public," I said, looking at my reflection in the windowpane. "He thinks he's launching a charity foundation to boost his album sales."