Chapter 4

I figured this standoff would eventually test their patience, but out of nowhere, something totally unexpected crashed in.

That night, Anna suddenly came down with a high fever. She felt scorching hot all over.

She started breathing rapidly, a wheezing sound coming from her throat. It was an aftereffect of the fire, a stress-induced asthma attack.

I was terrified. I scooped her up and bolted for the hospital.

Just as I burst through the gate, a black Maybach silently flicked on its headlights and sped after me, like it was possessed.

It was William.

For days now, he'd been haunting the shadows of the complex, his car lurking there like a ghost.

Outside the ER entrance, he cut me off, pulling up ahead and stepping right in front of me.

Seeing Anna struggling to breathe, her wheezing alarming, he didn't say a word and just reached out, trying to take her from my arms.

"Wendy, let me. I'll call the top specialists right away," he said.

The moment his hand touched Anna, all the rage I'd bottled up for five years broke loose, smashing through any self-control I had left.

"Get lost!" I screamed.

I let out a raw, wild shriek, like a cornered animal, and shoved him away with everything I had, holding Anna tight, like she was the only thing keeping me alive.

"Get your filthy hands off her! Don't touch her!" I shouted.

He stumbled back, totally stunned, like he couldn't understand why I was reacting so violently.

"What gives you the right to touch her? You already killed me once. Now you want to hurt my child, too?" I screamed.

I clutched Anna, my whole body shaking, tears streaming down my face.

This scene was painfully familiar.

Five years ago, he did the same thing, making choices for me and forcing me to be strong and face death.

Now, five years later, he was back with his arrogance, thinking his money and influence could decide my daughter's fate.

I wouldn't let that happen. Never.

Anna's condition hit hard and fast, but we got her to the hospital just in time.

Once she was in a regular ward, hooked up to the nebulizer, her breathing finally started to steady. Only then did the tension that had been coiled tight in me all night finally start to ease.

Little did I know that the storm that belonged to me was only just beginning.

Early the next morning, the door to the hospital room opened.

Ryan, William, and Charles walked in together.

William was carrying a gourmet meal from an exclusive restaurant, Charles had a giant toy castle in his arms, and Ryan came in empty-handed, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me, like he hadn't slept at all.

They stood there like three silent mountains, making the already cramped hospital room feel even smaller.

"Wendy," William was the first to speak, his brows knitting as he eyed the plain porridge in my hand. He stepped forward, reaching to swap it out for something better.

He said, "You need to rest. I've already spoken to the hospital director. She'll be transferred to the VIP care unit this afternoon..."

Before he could finish, I looked up at him.

I wasn't angry, and I didn't yell. I just spoke in that rough, sandpaper voice, soft but crystal clear. "No need."

My calm unsettled them more than any outburst ever could.

William's hand froze in midair.

I locked eyes with him, the one who always thought he knew best, planning out every step of my life.

I let out a faint, twisted smile. On my pale face, with that ugly scar, it looked almost haunting.

I said, "William, stop acting like you know what's 'best'. I learned the hard way what your protection really costs. Five years ago, it nearly destroyed me. I can't pay that price, and neither can my daughter."

My eyes drifted past him, and for a split second, I was back in that burning warehouse from five years ago. "Weren't you the one who told me to just hold on a little longer?"

I looked back at his face, all twisted up in pain, and gave a bitter smile.

I said, "Well, I held on. I survived.

"William, are you satisfied now?"

That last quiet question hit William like a punch to the gut. He looked like he'd just been struck by something invisible and heavy.

His tall frame shook violently, his face going ghostly pale, and he nearly lost his balance.

I didn't bother with him anymore. Instead, I turned to Charles, who was standing there, looking totally lost.

The superstar who always shone on screen now looked like a kid who'd just been caught doing something wrong. He mumbled, "Wendy, I... I just wanted to get Anna a present..."

My gaze lingered on the toy castle in his arms, and then slowly shifted to his cracked lips.

Then I met his eyes, the same ones that used to look down on me, and rasped, "Aren't you feeling thirsty now?"

He froze.

"So, tell me, did your dear sister Sophia enjoy that bottle of water back then?" I asked.

My words hit Charles like a lightning strike, ripping open old wounds and memories he'd tried to bury.

Five years ago, in that fire, Sophia was coughing and nearly passing out from the smoke, but she clung to Charles's leg, pointed at me, and her voice sliced through the chaos. "Forget me... Hurry... Go save Wendy!"

In that moment, Charles was swept up by her act of kindness, not even thinking twice. He grabbed the only water I had left and ran straight to Sophia, the girl he'd grown up with.

But later, it hit him that someone truly starved of oxygen couldn't possibly scream like that, with so much force.

That wasn't a cry for help. That was the most vicious performance of all.