Kalista noticed Thatcher’s first question at the hospital.

"Can you walk?" Kalista asked softly, her tone shifting entirely when she spoke to Lenora.

Lenora nodded weakly, her vision swimming. "I... I think so. Oh God, Kalista, what have we done?"

"What needed to be done," Kalista replied firmly.

With immense strength, Kalista wrapped one arm tightly around Lenora’s waist, hoisting the older woman to her feet. She bore most of Lenora’s weight, pulling her toward the massive glass exit doors of the hotel foyer.

With her free hand, Kalista pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb rapidly dialing 911.

"Yes, I need an ambulance at the Grand Plaza Hotel, main foyer," Kalista said into the receiver, her voice calm, professional, completely detached from the chaos around her. "A woman has suffered a severe head injury from a physical assault. Yes, the attackers are still on the premises. Send police as well."

Thatcher, still on one knee, looked up through his tears of pain, his face twisted in panic. "Kalista! Hang up the phone! Are you insane? You'll ruin us!"

Sterling finally found his voice, struggling to push himself up on his elbows. His eyes burned with a murderous glare. "You walk out those doors, you little tramp, and you will have nothing! I'll strip you of every cent! I'll make sure you're destroyed in this city!"

Kalista paused just before the automatic doors slid open. She didn't turn her whole body. She just looked back over her shoulder, the cool night air rushing in to lift the escaping tendrils of her hair.

She looked at the pathetic, groveling man she had married. She looked at the tyrant bleeding on the marble. The whole room held its breath, waiting for her to break, waiting for her to apologize.