Chapter 2
The night wind whipped through the car, and I couldn't help but shiver.
The bodyguards tossed me unceremoniously into the back seat of Thomas' Rolls-Royce.
He never looked my way, just instructed the driver, "Drive home."
Home? I snorted.
Five years gone—he must've already forgotten. I had burnt our home down in that fire long ago.
The car sped through the night, neon lights outside blurring into streaks of color.
Out of nowhere, the sky opened up, and rain came down in sheets.
It felt like my immune system was at war inside me, each wave of pain roiling through my organs, growing more intense by the second.
I curled up in the seat, cold sweat beading on my forehead.
First things first: I needed to find Noel and get paid for tonight.
That cash was literally my lifeline—money I had to count on to buy my meds at the hospital next week.
"Stop the car," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need to head back—Noel still hasn't paid me for tonight."
Thomas shot me a cold look.
He said, "Seriously, you want to crawl back for that pathetic, dirty money? Ember, I always knew you were shameless, but I didn't realize you had not a shred of dignity left."
"I earned that through hard work," I snapped back.
"Hard work? Really?" Thomas snorted, every syllable biting.
He added, "You mean caking on makeup until you don't even look human, howling like a maniac on stage? Is that hard work? If Mom and Dad saw what you're doing to yourself, they'd be rolling in their graves."
I squeezed my eyes shut, shutting him out.
Pain knifed through my insides as my emotions spun out of control, the nausea swelled like a wave, crashing over me without warning.
"Stop the car. Please, stop! I'm going to be sick..." I gasped.
I clamped a hand over my mouth as my face went ashen.
The driver slammed on the brakes without thinking.
I couldn't help it anymore—bursting out the door, I staggered to the curb and doubled over, retching hard.
The rain drenched me completely, washing off the cheap stage makeup painted all over my skin.
The sticky paint slid down in bright, messy streaks, pooling on the ground into a dirty puddle of color.
I hadn't eaten a thing all day, so there was nothing to puke up—just waves of sour bile rising, making my throat sting like hell.
A black umbrella was suddenly held over my head.
It kept the rain off me, but there was no escaping Thomas's icy stare.
The downpour rinsed the makeup off my skin, revealing the ugly red blotches on my arms and neck.
"What is that on your skin?" Thomas demanded.
His expression shifted from pure disgust to outright horror and fury.
"Ember, did you catch some filthy disease?" he spat. "How many random guys have you been sleeping with?"
He shoved me away, his eyes raking over my rain-soaked body, so thin I barely looked human anymore.
"Look at you—skin and bones. Are you on drugs now, too?" Thomas spat.
I was shivering so hard I couldn't even tell if it was the cold, or just anger and humiliation eating me up inside.
"I'm not!" I yelled.
"Yeah? You really expect me to believe that?" Thomas shot back.
He gave a cold laugh. "Still mouthing off like always. You're the type who never learns their lesson until it's too late—just stubborn to the bone."
He whirled around and snapped at the driver, "Turn this car around—get us to the hospital now."
*****
At the private hospital's emergency room, Thomas forced me down into a chair, gripping my shoulder so I couldn't bolt while the nurses came over, sticking me with needles and drawing my blood for tests.
Half an hour later, a middle-aged doctor—Samuel Atkins—walked over, report in hand.
"Mr. Foley, the initial tests are back. Your sister doesn't have any of those diseases you were freaking out about," Samuel said.
A flicker of disbelief flashed across Thomas's face.
Samuel paused. "But—"
He adjusted his glasses, a strange look crossing his face. "We found some key markers in her blood that are highly unusual. The detailed results will take a little longer to come in.'
"No need," Thomas snapped, cutting off Samuel with clear impatience.
"Her personal life has always been messy. Even if she doesn't have an STD, it wouldn't be a shock for her health to be a mess," he added coldly.
With that, he hauled me out of the chair and stormed out, dragging me with him.
Behind us, a nurse rushed over, clutching a freshly printed lab report.
"Dr. Atkins, the detailed report for that patient is here," she called out.
Samuel took the report, glanced at it, and his face changed in an instant.
He burst out of the office, only to find the hallway completely deserted.
"Hurry! Get in touch with Mr. Foley right now," Samuel yelled, his voice edged with panic. "This isn't a minor issue. His sister is showing textbook signs of an acute lupus flare. She needs to be hospitalized this instant, or she'll die."