Sandra sat on the cold, hard floor of the small holding cell. The room was dim, lit only by a flickering lightbulb above. Shadows stretched along the walls, but nothing mattered. Sandra's world had collapsed.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, but the shivers wracked her body. Pressing her knees to her chest, she rested her forehead against them as tears streamed down her face. Her sobs, raw and jagged, echoed through the empty cell, shattering the heavy silence.

Her mind was a storm, filled with the memory of her mother's voice—so soft, so patient, always trying to guide her. But Sandra had never listened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. She pressed her fists against her eyes, but the tears continued to flow. Her chest ached with the unbearable weight of the news: her mother was gone. Dead. Because of her. Because of her senseless jealousy and greed.

Nothing else mattered. Not Derek's rejection. Not Evelyn's victory. Only the gaping hole in her heart remained. She had lost the person she loved most.

"It's my fault," she choked out, shaking her head. "All my fault."

The images wouldn't leave her mind: the argument, her mother's pleas, the fight, the fall, the sickening thud of her mother hitting the floor. It replayed endlessly, a terrible song she couldn't escape.

Sandra grabbed the cell bars, leaning her forehead against the cold metal. "Why did I do it?" she cried, her voice breaking. "Why couldn't I just listen to her?"

Her mother had warned her so many times to stop being selfish, to stop chasing things that didn't matter. But she hadn't cared. She'd wanted more—more money, more power, more control. And now it had cost her everything.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Her hands trembled as she clutched her chest. Her tears fell faster, soaking her shirt. "Please, God," she whispered, barely audible. "Please bring her back. I'll change. I'll do better. I'll never hurt anyone again. Just don't let her be gone."

She squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands together, her words tumbling out in a desperate prayer. "I'll stop being greedy. I'll stop being mean. I'll stop hurting people. Just let her live. Please. I'll be good. I'll be good. I promise."

Sandra remained there, crying until her throat was raw and her eyes burned. Every part of her ached—her head, her heart, her soul. She thought of all her wrongdoings: every selfish act, every cruel word, every time she ignored her mother's advice. "If only I could take it all back," she thought bitterly.

Just as she was sinking deeper into despair, the sound of footsteps approached. Sandra didn't look up at first, too consumed by her grief. Then, she heard a voice. "Sandra."

She raised her head slowly, her face streaked with tears. It was the officer who had brought her in. He stood on the other side of the bars, his expression unreadable.

He hesitated, then said, "Your mother she's alive."

Sandra froze. For a moment, she thought she'd misheard him.

"What?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"She's alive," the officer repeated. "We heard from the hospital. She woke up."

Sandra gasped, staring at him in disbelief. "Alive?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

The officer nodded. "Yes. The doctor said she's going to be okay."

Sandra's hands flew to her mouth as a loud sob escaped. Relief flooded her, washing over her like a wave, and tears streamed down her face.

"She's alive," she cried, over and over, clutching her chest. "She's alive."

The guilt remained, but for the first time, there was hope. She hadn't killed her mother. She hadn't entirely destroyed everything.

She wiped her face with trembling hands, though the tears persisted. "Thank you, God," she whispered, looking up at the ceiling. "Thank you. I'll make this right. I swear I will."

As she sat there, clutching her knees and rocking gently, Sandra made a vow—a real one this time. She would beg Evelyn for forgiveness. She would make things right with her mother. She would never let greed or anger rule her again.

"I'll be better," she whispered to herself, her voice steady for the first time in hours. "I'll be better. I promise."

Claire's eyelids fluttered open, and the dim hospital room swam into focus. The soft beeping of monitors echoed around her. Her gaze settled on Evelyn, who sat at her bedside, clutching her hand tightly. Evelyn's red-rimmed eyes lit up when Claire stirred. Her face showed relief and exhaustion.

"How long have I been out?" Claire asked weakly, her voice raspy.

Evelyn squeezed her hand. "A couple of hours," she said softly. "The doctor said it's most likely a concussion."

Claire glanced at the clock and the window. The faint twilight hinted at the passage of time. "Where's your father?" she asked. "You've been here a while. You need to go home, Evie." Her voice was gentle but firm.

Evelyn shook her head vehemently, tears welling up. "You gave us all a terrible scare, Mom. I'm not leaving your side until you're out of here," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

A small smile touched Claire's lips, though the effort made her head ache. "I don't plan on dying anytime soon," she said softly.

"But you wouldn't wake up!" Evelyn cried. "Even after the doctors said you were alright, you just you wouldn't wake up."

Claire sighed, the sound heavy with regret and exhaustion. "That wasn't intentional," she said. Her expression shifted, her brow furrowing. "What about Sandra?" she asked cautiously.

Evelyn looked away, her lips tightening. She hesitated, unsure how to reveal the truth.

Claire sighed, already suspecting the answer. "She didn't push me deliberately," she said softly. "It was a mistake."

Evelyn snapped her head back. "It doesn't matter, Mom. That's not the only thing she's done," Evelyn said. "She almost killed Rayna. She tried to run her down with her car, but Rayna's boyfriend was hit instead." Claire closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were filled with sorrow.

Evelyn reached for her mother's hand. "I know you're sad, Mom," she whispered. "I wish I could do something to help Sandra, but she's committed too many crimes. There's nothing I can do."

Claire's voice was calm but resolute. "I went to her room that night to give her one last chance. I didn't know she'd done something so terrible to Rayna, too." She paused. "I love Sandra, but she should pay for her actions. You don't have to feel guilty or try to placate me. It's tragic, but I'd rather see her behind bars than let her become a danger to herself and others."

Evelyn swallowed hard. "So I don't have to forgive her?" she asked hesitantly. "I thought you woke up because I promised to forgive her."

Claire smiled faintly. "Don't be silly," she said gently. "Why would I want to die because of Sandra? I have so much to live for—your father, you, Samantha." She squeezed Evelyn's hand. "You're my daughter too, Evie. Don't ever forget that."

Tears spilled down Evelyn's cheeks. "Yes, you're my mother. And, just so you know you have one more person to live for."

Claire tilted her head in confusion, then followed Evelyn's gaze to her stomach. Her eyes widened. "You're pregnant?"

Evelyn nodded, biting her lip.

"Oh, Evie!" Claire exclaimed, smiling despite her exhaustion. "I'm so happy to hear that!" She embraced her daughter.

Evelyn leaned forward, sobbing. "Thank you, Mom. Thank you for coming back to me. I don't know what I would have done if" Her voice broke.

Claire stroked her hair. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here now," she murmured. "But tell me, how do you feel?"

Evelyn sniffled and laughed. "I feel relieved, Mom. But how do you feel? Are you alright?"

Claire shrugged, wincing as the movement made her headache flare. "Apart from this terrible headache, I feel sad. Sad for Sandra. But I know the sadness won't last forever," she said softly. She looked at Evelyn seriously. "Evie, you should forgive her."

"But you said I don't have to," Evelyn reminded her.

"Forgiveness doesn't mean she shouldn't face the consequences of her actions," Claire explained. "It's something you do for yourself. Don't let hate fill your heart, Evie. It'll only weigh you down and make you bitter. Learn to live light, my darling."

"Are you an angel? I'm starting to think so," Evelyn said, and Claire laughed softly.

The door opened, and Eric walked in, carrying food. Derek followed with water and food for Evelyn.

"You're awake!" Eric exclaimed, hurrying to Claire's side. "How are you feeling?"

Claire smiled faintly. "You look older," she teased softly.

Eric shook his head. "I don't care how I look as long as you're alright. Are you hungry? I made some porridge and soup."

Claire glanced at Derek and Evelyn. "Take her home, Derek," she said firmly. "She needs to eat and rest."

Evelyn shook her head. "I'm not leaving—"

"I'll be fine, Evelyn," Claire interrupted. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Derek stepped closer and placed a hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "Come on, Evie. You need to take care of yourself, too," he said gently.

Evelyn hesitated but eventually nodded. As they walked out, her tears began to fall again, and she leaned into Derek.

"She's alright now," Derek whispered, holding her close. "She's going to be okay."

Evelyn nodded, her heart finally beginning to lighten.