Chapter 5

Nayeli spent two hours at the hospital, lying still as two bags of glucose dripped into her veins. Slowly, she felt her strength returning.

The wound on her knee had been redressed. The doctor said the infection wasn't serious—just keep changing the bandages on schedule and avoid strenuous activity for a week.

A week.

Nayeli ran the numbers in her head. Less than two months until the Junior Grand Prix. She couldn't afford to waste a week.

But if she didn't let her knee heal properly, ruining her performance at the competition would be an even bigger loss.

She decided to head back and follow Zaiden Lawson's training plan—focus on conditioning for now, then return to the ice once her knee recovered.

The moment she stepped out of the ward, she spotted two familiar faces.

Nayeli's steps faltered for a split second. Then, expression blank, she kept walking.

Miguel noticed her first. He froze, then lunged forward and grabbed her arm. "Perfect timing. Lucia just woke up. Go in there and apologize to her."

"I'm not going."

Miguel's face darkened instantly. "Nayeli, don't push your luck! Lucia's been hospitalized for a day and a night because of you. What's wrong with going in there and saying you're sorry?"

Nehemiah chimed in, his tone brooking no argument. "Nayeli, you're going in there today. Lucia's been crying ever since she woke up, saying you won't forgive her and it's tearing her apart. Go in and say something nice. Put her mind at ease."

Nayeli almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Lucia had thrown her off the ice, walked away without a scratch, then faked unconsciousness to milk their sympathy. And these two were so blind they couldn't see through her act—fine, whatever. But now they wanted to force 'her' to apologize?

"She cries, so I have to apologize?" Nayeli looked at Nehemiah, her voice eerily calm. "When I was bleeding all over the ice, who apologized to me?"

Nehemiah's frown deepened. "We still haven't gotten to the bottom of that—"

"Gotten to the bottom of it?" Nayeli cut him off. "You said the security footage was faked. I said call the cops, but you wouldn't dare. So which is it—you don't 'want' to figure it out, or you don't 'dare'?"

Nehemiah fell silent.

Miguel clicked his tongue impatiently. "Enough with the excuses! You're going into that room and apologizing to Lucia. End of story."

He yanked on her arm, dragging her down the hallway.

The sudden pull tugged at the wound on Nayeli's knee. She sucked in a sharp breath, her face going a shade paler.

Nehemiah noticed the bandage on her leg. His lips parted as if to speak, but in the end, he said nothing. He just followed along behind them.

Miguel's grip was iron-tight. Nayeli struggled twice, failed to break free, and then stopped resisting altogether.

She stared coldly at the back of Miguel's head, a glint of something dangerous flickering in her eyes.

Fine.

If they insisted on dragging her in there, then she'd go.

The VIP room was enormous—easily three times the size of the standard ward Nayeli had just left.

The coffee table overflowed with flowers and fruit baskets. The nightstand was stacked high with supplements. Even the windowsill was lined with bouquets.

Lucia was propped up against the headboard, her face pale, her lips bloodless. She looked genuinely frail.

When she saw Miguel hauling Nayeli through the door, a flash of triumph sparked in her eyes. But it vanished in an instant, replaced by a pitiful, wounded expression.

"Nayeli…" Her voice came out soft and trembling. "Nayeli, you finally came to see me. I thought you'd never want to talk to me again…"

Miguel released Nayeli's arm and gave her a shove forward.

"Nayeli's here. She says she has something to tell you." Miguel smiled at Lucia, his tone turning gentle. "Don't cry. The doctor said you need to keep your emotions stable."

Nayeli stood rooted in place, watching the farce unfold with cold detachment.

"Nayeli." Lucia's eyes reddened. "What happened yesterday was my fault. I shouldn't have let go during the lift. But I was just so nervous—I didn't mean to… Will you please forgive me?"

Nayeli didn't respond. Her gaze drifted to the fruit platter on the coffee table, where a bowl of freshly washed imported cherries sat.

How ironic. She'd fainted from low blood sugar, hadn't eaten anything from this morning until just now except a single piece of candy—and here Lucia's room was overflowing with luxury treats.

Nayeli walked over and sat down on the sofa. She picked up the bowl of cherries and started eating them, one by one.

Miguel blinked. "What are you doing?"

Nayeli ignored him and kept eating.

The cherries were sweet, bursting with juice. She reached for a box of chocolates next to the fruit, tore open the packaging, and bit into one.

Nehemiah's expression soured. "Nayeli, are you here to apologize or to eat?"

"I never said I was here to apologize." Nayeli swallowed the chocolate in her mouth. "You two dragged me here."

Lucia's face stiffened for a moment, but she quickly forced a smile back onto her lips. "It's fine, Nehemiah. If she likes them, let her eat. That box of chocolates was brought back from Switzerland by Kason. She probably hasn't had anything like that before. Let her try some."

The words were gentle and considerate, but the subtext was clear: she was showing off how good Kason was to her.

Nayeli paused mid-chew. She looked up at Lucia.

Lucia met her gaze, the corner of her mouth curling slightly, a flash of provocation glinting in her eyes.

Miguel's temper flared. "Nayeli, does nobody feed you at home?"

"Nope."

This morning, Miguel had blocked her the second she came downstairs. She hadn't even had a sip of water.

Miguel choked on his own anger, his face cycling through shades of red and white.

Lucia seized the moment and let the tears fall. "It's all my fault… If I hadn't been hospitalized, they wouldn't have neglected you, Nayeli… Miguel, don't blame her. This is on me…"

Miguel turned to her, his tone softening instantly. "Don't take it to heart. She's a grown woman. If she's hungry and doesn't eat, that's got nothing to do with you."

Nayeli tuned out their back-and-forth. She polished off half the bowl of cherries, then downed a bottle of milk.

Once she'd eaten her fill, she felt her strength slowly returning.

She stood, brushed the crumbs off her hands, and turned to leave this toxic mess behind.

"Stop right there!" Miguel stepped in front of her, blocking the door. "You haven't apologized yet! Today, you're getting on your knees and begging Lucia for forgiveness, or you're not leaving this room!"

Her knee was barely holding together, and he wanted her to 'kneel' and apologize to Lucia?

Nayeli lifted her head. Her eyes were ice-cold.

In her past life, she'd spent so long groveling to please them—always on her knees, figuratively speaking. That's why they'd been able to scheme against her later, why Lucia had tortured her to death.

This time around, she would never kneel to anyone again.

"I'm not kneeling." Each word came out sharp and deliberate.

Lucia let out a soft sob from the bed, her voice fragile, as if she'd suffered the greatest injustice in the world. "Miguel, forget it… If she doesn't want to, just let it go… It was my mistake in the first place. I made such a huge error—how could I even have the nerve to stay in the McCarthy family…"

That sentence was like kindling tossed onto a fire, igniting every last bit of Miguel's rage.

His eyes went red. He rushed forward, grabbed Nayeli by the shoulders, and shoved her downward. "Get on your knees!"

Nehemiah stood off to the side. His expression shifted, but he didn't step in to stop it.

Miguel forced Nayeli's knees to buckle. The wound tore open again, and the searing pain made her vision go black.

She clenched her teeth. Her right hand shot out, grabbing the metal pole of a nearby IV stand. The pole sliced through the air in a cold arc and came crashing down on Miguel's shoulder.

Miguel screamed and let go, staggering backward several steps.

Nayeli didn't stop.

She swung the IV stand at Nehemiah.

He hadn't expected her to snap like this. He stood there, frozen, and took the hit straight-on. The impact sent him crumpling to the floor, gasping in pain.

And Lucia, lying in bed—Nayeli didn't spare her either. She swung the pole hard in her direction.

Lucia shrieked and rolled off the bed, curling up on the floor with her hands over her head.

Nayeli stood there, gripping the IV stand, chin raised. "Listen up, all of you. From today on, anyone who lays a hand on me gets ten hits right back."