

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

My childhood sweetheart, Samuel Burton, once promises that he will marry me the moment we graduate from college. But on our wedding day, he shows up late. When we finally find him, he's tangled in bed with my stepsister, Vivian Holcomb, in a hotel room. In front of everyone, Ethan Fuller, the heir to the wealthiest family, steps forward and boldly declares that I am the one he has secretly loved for years. Five years into our marriage, he remembers every little thing I say, and I truly believe I am the person he cares about most. Until one day, when I'm doing housework and accidentally find a confidential folder hidden deep in his desk drawer. The very first page is Vivian's resume. On it is his own handwriting. He has written, "Priority. Above everything else." Behind it is a hospital operations report I have never seen before. The date matches the night of my car accident. I was rushed to a hospital owned by Fuller Group, yet no surgeon ever came. By the time I woke up, the baby I'm carrying was gone because I had lost too much blood. I cried in Ethan's arms until my voice broke, but I never told him the full truth. I didn't want him to worry even more. But now I finally know. Vivian was also injured that night, and the order Ethan sent to the hospital was— "Pull every specialist available. Treat Vivian first." My tears soak into the page, blurring the ink. "If I'm not your top priority, I'll disappear from your life then."

The whole world is thrown into a mysterious survival game on an endless highway. Everyone gets a lonely road, a random vehicle, and must scavenge for supplies to survive. At night, terrifying unknown entities emerge to hunt the living. Eric Quimby starts with the worst possible companion—a powerless cleaning robot with no combat ability, meant for cleaning, not survival.