Chapter 1
Three of my ribs were broken, and my spleen was torn apart.
I was in the ICU for seven days before I finally came to.
When I opened my eyes, there were no flowers or fruits on the bedside.
No one was coming.
While changing my bandages, the nurse casually said, "Your mom came here once. She signed the consent form for the surgery and left right after.
"She said she had a big case to deal with and couldn't stick around."
I didn't say a word.
My mother, Elaine Nash, was a lawyer. Being busy was just normal for her.
On the ninth day, my father, Nathan Nash, arrived here from the neighboring city.
He sat on the edge of my bed, holding my hand, his lips trembling for a long time.
"Iris, there's something I really don't know how to tell you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He started, "The case your mom took..."
He paused for a long time, as if he was making up his mind.
He finally managed to say, "She's the attorney for Zoe Sterling."
I froze instantly.
Zoe, who kicked me down the stairs from the third floor.
When he said that, Nathan's hand was trembling.
He grabbed my hand so hard his knuckles went white. His grip was even stronger than mine.
I asked, "Dad, which Zoe are you talking about?"
I was still clinging to that last bit of hope.
"It's her." His answer was short, almost brutal.
He lowered his head, his voice so muffled it sounded like it was forced out from deep inside his chest.
He muttered, "Richard Sterling's daughter, your classmate, Zoe.
"Her dad reached out to your mom's law firm, and your mom volunteered to handle the case herself."
The silence in the room dragged on.
The heart monitor beeped, each sound feeling like a countdown.
I stared up at the fluorescent light on the ceiling, its harsh white glare almost dazzling.
In my mind, one thought kept echoing.
Elaine knew exactly who hurt me.
She knew.
I asked, "Dad, does Mom know I'm in the hospital?"
He replied, "Yes."
"Does she know it was Zoe who hit me?" I pressed, my heart pounding.
He replied, "Yes."
I asked, "And she still took this case?"
Nathan said nothing.
But his silence said it all.
I closed my eyes. And a sharp ache shot through my chest, right where those three broken ribs were.
It wasn't the physical pain.
It was a different kind of pain.
Nathan took a thermos out of a plastic bag and unscrewed its lid.
Inside the bone broth was steaming.
He was a bit clumsy in the kitchen. The meat hadn't been cleaned properly, so little flecks of blood floated on the surface.
But at least it was hot.
He said softly, "Iris, try it."
I brought it over and took a sip.
It was salty.
I didn't say anything and just kept drinking.
I asked, "Dad, where did you come from? How long was the ride?"
He replied, "Not far, two hours by bus."
He said it wasn't far away.
But his shoes were covered in mud, and his pant legs were still rolled up.
It was raining outside, and he didn't even bring an umbrella.
I asked, "Why are you only here now?"
Nathan's eyes turned red instantly.
"Your mom didn't let me come here," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
He added, "She said she'd already dealt with it and told me not to get involved.
"I called her for seven days, but she never answered.
"Later, it was only when your homeroom teacher, Toby Hale, secretly messaged me that I finally found out you were in the ICU."
Seven days. I spent seven days in the ICU.
Elaine only showed up for eight minutes, signed, and left soon.
Nathan called her for seven days, but she never picked up.
I said, "Dad, don't cry."
Then I put the soup back on the bedside table.
"I want to see my injuries," I continued, bracing myself for whatever I might find.
He helped me pull back the covers.
The left side of my ribs was wrapped in layers of gauze, and a long line of surgical stitches ran across my abdomen, which had already crusted over with dark red scabs.
There were still bruises on my right arm, which were from stepping on.
When I fell from the third floor, the back of my head hit against the edge of a step.
The nurse told me that if I'd landed a little over, it would've struck my skull.
I asked, "Dad, how much have I spent on medical bills?"
He hesitated, looking uneasy. "Don't worry about this."
I pressed, "How much? Tell me."
He replied, "It has already cost sixty thousand dollars. The upcoming surgeries and rehab will probably cost another thirty thousand."
I asked, "Who paid for it?"
He replied, "It's from your mom. She transferred seventy thousand dollars to the hospital account."
Hearing this, I gave a dry laugh.
Seventy thousand dollars.
She could get more than that from just one case.
"Does she think just paying is enough?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
Nathan said nothing.
But I knew the answer.
In Elaine's mind, if you could deal with it with money, it didn't even count as a problem.
But could money fix my broken ribs?
Could money save me from being kicked down the stairs?