The Fallen Ugly Girl: Her Epic Comeback

The emergency room smelled of bleach and despair. Emely ran through the automatic doors, her wet clothes clinging to her skin, her hair a frizzy mess.

She found her mother in the waiting area, huddled in a plastic chair, looking small and gray.

"Mom!"

Martha looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. "He collapsed. They said it's acute heart failure. He needs a bypass. Immediately."

"Okay," Emely said, her heart hammering. "Okay, do it. Tell them to do it."

Martha shook her head, tears spilling over. "They won't. The insurance... it was tied to the company accounts. It's been frozen. All of it."

Emely marched to the billing desk. The woman behind the computer didn't even look up.

"Name?"

"Arthur Cohen. He needs surgery."

"We need a payment method on file. The previous card was declined."

Emely pulled out her wallet. She slapped down her Visa. Declined. Her MasterCard. Declined. Her Amex. Declined.

The receptionist looked at her with pity that felt worse than scorn. "Miss Cohen, without a deposit, we can only stabilize him. We can't operate."

"How much?" Emely asked, her voice trembling.

"The initial deposit for the surgical team is two hundred thousand dollars."

Emely felt a wave of dizziness. "Two hundred thousand..."

"And that's just to book the OR," the woman added softly, not unkindly. "The total procedure, given his complex condition, will likely be closer to five million."

Emely walked back to her mother, her legs feeling like lead. She sat down and took Martha's hand. It was cold.

"We have nothing, Em," Martha whispered. "The house is foreclosed. The accounts are seized. We're going to be on the street."

Emely looked through the glass doors of the ICU. She could see her father's pale face, the tube down his throat. The machine beeped steadily, a countdown clock on his life.

She felt a weight against her chest. Not the pressure of grief, but the physical weight of the obsidian ring tucked into her bra.

If you're ever desperate.

She stood up. "I'll get the money."

"How?" Martha cried. "Kody?"

"No," Emely said, her voice turning hard. "Someone who owes me."

She walked out of the hospital and found a discarded cigarette butt on the ground near the smoking area. She picked it up, lit it with a stray lighter she found in her pocket, and took a drag. She coughed as the harsh smoke burned her lungs, but it steadied her hands.

She dialed Zoe.

"Em! Oh my god, I saw the video online. Did you really throw the necklace?" Zoe's voice was frantic.

"Where is Christ Collins?" Emely asked.

Silence. Then, "Christ? Why?"

"Just tell me, Zoe."

"Zack is tracking him. He's in the Hamptons. A private estate party. Tonight."

"I need a ride," Emely said. "And I need a dress."

"Emely, you can't go there. The Collins family... they aren't normal. There are rumors. Dark rumors."

"My dad is dying, Zoe. I don't care if Christ Collins is the devil himself. I'm going to collect."