They gave her everything—tenderness, sorrow, and a fierce desire to protect.
They believed Linnea effortlessly, unwaveringly. I was left alone in the empty living room, spiraling into despair until I lost consciousness.
Upon awakening, the pain jutted through me like daggers.
My eyelids felt heavy as lead, my chest constricting painfully. Even the faintest breath ignited the wound, as if someone were tearing me apart internally.
Yet here I remained at home. No one had taken me to the hospital.
The housemaid stood rigidly by the foot of the bed, twisting her apron into knots, eyes flitting everywhere but mine, avoiding my gaze.
“Awake?”
A deep, chilling voice resonated from the doorway.
I turned my head to see Gideon and Ellis enter simultaneously, their hurried steps and heavy brows pressing down on me like a suffocating weight.
Gideon approached the bedside and regarded me with a frosty stare, devoid of compassion. “Linnea is at the hospital, losing significant blood. This afternoon, you caused her injury to reopen. Now you must donate blood as restitution.”
I froze, a wave of chilling absurdity flooding my chest. “I didn’t hurt her. I refuse to give blood.”
Ellis scoffed. “Everyone saw it—you shoved her, shocking her. This is your accountability, and now you have to face it!”
“I already said I didn’t—” I shouted instinctively, only to be silenced by Gideon’s piercing glare.
“Silence! Whether you accept it or not, your blood type is a perfect match. Get up now and come with us to the hospital.”
I gritted my teeth against the surging pain in my chest. “I’m not going! I’ve done nothing wrong—why should I give blood? I’m injured! Donating blood could endanger my life!”
The air turned taut.