Chapter 4 Begging at the Hospital

I dragged myself to the door, opened it, and collapsed onto the large bed where I had slept for three years. I slipped into a daze and fell asleep... I dreamed—of twelve years ago, when I first met Dominic Hawthorne. Back then, I was only ten, wandering near The House of Stars, playing at an unfinished construction site. It was winter. The site stood empty. There, I found Dominic—beaten, bloodied, barely breathing. I called his name over and over, but he didn't respond. I thought he was dead and turned to go find the caretaker, when a faint whisper came from behind: "Save me." Though I was small and weak, I used a cement tricycle from the site to slowly, shakily push him out and bring him to Holy Heart Hospital. I had no money. The hospital refused to treat him. So I knelt and kowtowed to the staff. Finally, a young doctor intervened and called the vice director. Only then did they agree to take Dominic into surgery. I waited outside. When he woke, he asked for my name. He said he'd remember me. That he would come find me one day. But dreams are dreams—not reality. In truth, when Dominic awoke, I wasn't allowed into the ward. I could only watch from a distance. Soon, a group of men in black suits arrived and wheeled his bed away for transfer. As the bed passed me, he saw me. His lips curved into a gentle smile. His hand lightly tugged at the hem of my shirt. That was our last meeting. Yet that smile has been carved into my heart. Even after twelve years, it remains vivid. I woke to find my pillow soaked with tears. Outside, the night was already deep. I was thirsty and hungry. My body no longer hurt as much, so I decided to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was quiet. I assumed they were asleep. But as I reached the top of the stairs, Leona's voice drifted up from the living room: "How long is she staying? Wasn't that house supposed to be cleared out for my clothes?" Before I could wonder why she hadn't gone home with Dominic, my mother replied, "Don't rush. Tomorrow I'll make her sign the agreement and get her out. Just endure it—for that four percent stake." Four percent stake? If they were talking about me, I had no idea. But Leona answered quickly: "Honestly, you people—bringing her back just because Grandma Cecilia mentioned a four percent stake? What's four percent worth? It can't even be liquidated! And I have to call her sister and play the doting older sister!" "As if I don't find her repulsive—so crude, so common. Every meal, she eats like she's never seen food, scraping every grain from her bowl! Every time we have guests, I'm utterly ashamed!" "Exactly. When I gave her some of my old clothes, she acted like she'd won the lottery. I'm embarrassed to even call her my sister. Watching her get beaten today? That was pure joy." "Fine. The moment she wakes tomorrow, I'll make her sign the agreement. With the wedding on Grandma Cecilia's mind, she won't press the issue." I stood frozen on the stairs. My hand gripped the banister, trembling violently. Cleaning my bowl—that was what the director of The House of Stars taught us. So the cook would feel appreciated. Most of the clothes Leona gave me, I didn't like. But I didn't want to disappoint her. And I had nothing else to wear. So I always accepted them with gratitude. To avoid being hated by the Fairchilds, I worked part-time jobs to cover my living expenses—only my tuition was paid by donors from The House of Stars. So the family love I had guarded so tenderly in my heart… was nothing but this. All for a measly four percent stake! And this carefully staged marriage of convenience? Just an excuse to cast me out of the Fairchild family! Only I had been foolishly dreaming of kinship. Now I see—how hollow family love can be. I bit down hard on my lip, fighting to steady my breath, and limped downstairs. "Is that really how it is?"