Chapter 6
The car jolted.
Before I noticed, William's hand shot out, steadying the back of my neck.
Once I was settled, he withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened.
"Frank saved you twice," he said.
He flipped through a page of the report.
He added, "Eric has also suspended all public activities on the day of the proposal.
"If this is what you wanted, you can stop now."
I didn't answer.
He finally looked up. "Or is it still not enough for you?"
There was no anger in his voice.
There was only that bone-deep exhaustion when someone's patience was running out, like I was causing trouble all over again.
He continued, "Emilia, you're twenty-eight.
"If a relationship isn't working, end it. If you feel wronged, speak up.
"Using your own life to force someone's hand is the most pointless thing you could do."
I stared out the window at the trees rushing past.
"I didn't force them," I replied softly.
William spoke calmly, "Frank spent the whole night fixing all the cameras along the entire coastline to find you, and his old leg injury flared up again.
"Eric's company suffered heavy losses because of this.
"Leila's heart started acting up when she heard what happened to you. She's still stuck in the hospital bed.
"By saying you didn't force anyone, you've thrown everyone's lives into chaos."
He paused for a moment. "Is it only when everyone's world spins around you that you feel loved?"
It felt like something had lightly cut across my heart.
I suddenly asked, "Do you lecture Leila like this when she's feeling down?"
William's brows knitted together. "What does this have to do with her?
"When she was sick, she fought tooth and nail to stay alive.
"But you keep throwing your life away, again and again."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was absurd.
William watched me smile, and I could see his eyes turn cold.
He said, "Before Leila came along, you were always the one everyone had to look after.
"Then she got sick, and you felt like your spot was stolen.
"When ordinary fights couldn't make people choose you again, you acted like you were worse off than her."
He spoke slowly, "Even dying is your way of submitting an express request to everyone.
"What you want is for everyone to rush to save you all over again."
The ambulance came to a stop.
The paramedics opened the door, and as I stepped down, my legs suddenly gave out.
William caught me in his arms almost instantly.
One arm tightened around my waist, the other cradling the back of my head. For a split second, his face drained of all color. It was almost frightening.
"Emilia!" he called out.
I leaned against him, catching a faint whiff of disinfectant, like when I was little.
Those first few years after our parents died, whenever I got sick, he carried me to the hospital.
He was a teenager himself, but he always pretended to be calm, as if nothing could shake him.
When I was scared and crying during blood draws, he'd roll up his sleeve and let the nurse take his blood first.
"See? It doesn't hurt me," he'd say. "You don't have to be afraid, Emily."
Back then, he wasn't a medical expert yet.
The very first medical record he created was for me.
There was no number on the file.
There were only two words: Emilia Finch.
It had notes about which medicines I was allergic to, the time I had a high fever as a kid, which veggies I hated, and how I couldn't sleep without the lights on during thunderstorms.
Later, William discovered a unique gene in my blood that was used to treat rare diseases.
He named the treatment after me, calling it "Emilia."
Leila was the first person it saved.
The cure that saved her came from my body.
But in the end, the one William ended up fussing over and protecting like a little sister was her.
After school, William worked at a grocery store. When the store closed, he'd crouch in front of the shelves, carefully comparing every nutrition label.
He always picked out the cheapest stuff that was good enough for a kid.
Later, he gave me a medical bracelet.
He personally snapped it onto my wrist.
"From now on, if anything happens to your health, I'll be the first to know," he said.
William, still a teenager, gently ruffled my hair. "I'll always put you first, Emily."
So when I turned eighteen, the system didn't throw me straight into some love story.
Instead, it made me face William, my brother.
The system said that if William were willing to admit I was his sister and stand up for me once, even if it meant choosing me over his own interests, reputation, or Leila, I'd finally be the one my family chose.
I used to be relieved that at least this round didn't require me to fall for anyone.
But later, I realized that even family bonds could fail.
I pulled away from his arms.
"Thanks, Mr. Finch," I said.
William's hand froze in midair.
He stared at me for a long time and finally said in a cold voice, "So you can still say thank you, huh? Guess your mind's still sharp."
The bedroom door on the first floor of the old house was open.
I stood at the doorway, but didn't go in.
The walls had been repainted a soft, pale green. By the window sat a heart monitor, and the closet was filled with Leila's clothes.