Chapter 3

A bright red handprint blossomed across Chloe's cheek.

Damian stood frozen for barely a second before his foot lashed out, kicking me hard into the floor. The broken clay shards dug viciously into my back.

He shielded Chloe behind him, his eyes boring into me with lethal, venomous fury. "Harper, have you lost your mind? How dare you put your hands on her!"

Chloe clutched her face, tears streaming down like a broken faucet. "I didn't mean to drop it! I thought it was a cheap gift you bought her, and I was just trying to defend her! How much does that trash cost? I'll pay for it, I'll pay double!"

I tilted my head up, fighting with everything I had to keep my tears from falling. "You'll pay for it? With what?"

Lily was gone. That figurine was the last piece of her left on this earth.

Damian let out a cruel, mocking laugh. "A child’s worthless craft project? I'll pay you a thousand times what it's worth. Does that satisfy you?"

With that, he yanked me up by my arm, then snatched up the largest surviving piece of the figurine.

Right in front of my face, he hurled it against the wall, smashing Lily’s smiling likeness into pulverized dust.

Sharp debris sliced across my hands, warm blood welling up immediately. It looked just like the day she flatlined.

I forgot the physical pain entirely. Dropping to my knees like a lunatic, I began frantically scooping every jagged fragment into my chest.

Seeing me like this, Damian didn't hesitate. He kicked me away like a nuisance.

Then, right before my eyes, he kicked the scattered pieces of my sister’s soul across the room, scattering them into vents and under heavy furniture like common garbage.

"Now," he towered over me, his voice icy and merciless. "Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe. Right now."

Crying silently, I crawled on all fours across the floor, hunting for tiny shards in the corners. Sharp edges slashed into my fingers, but I felt numb to the pain, desperately gathering them against my bloody chest.

Damian marched over, his fingers fisting into my hair and violently yanking my head back. "Harper, did you go deaf?"

My tears mingled with the blood on my face. An ocean of suffocating regret and hatred consumed me. I was useless. I couldn't even protect the one thing my baby sister had left behind.

My scalp screamed with pain under his grip, but I forced my head up, staring directly into his eyes with nothing but pure, unadulterated disgust and burning hatred.

Damian flinched. For a fleeting second, it was as if my gaze burned his hand; his grip loosened instinctively.

In the heavy, suffocating silence, Damian let go of my hair, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach down and help me up.

Before he could move, Chloe cried out, "Ah! It hurts so bad... Damian, look at my cheek, is it swelling? Am I going to look hideous?"

Damian's attention snapped instantly back to Chloe. The violent red handprint on her fair skin was undeniable.

Whatever fleeting flicker of guilt he had just felt evaporated, replaced entirely by protective rage.

"Harper, I'm giving you one last chance. Apologize. On your knees."

"Do you really think I will?" I glared at him, unflinching.

Damian scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance and threat. "You're free to refuse. Just remember who pays for your sister’s life."

Looking at him standing there so smugly, I suddenly started to laugh.

A broken, hysterical chuckle bubbled up from my throat, tears spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks.

I was dying inside, and he didn't have a single clue.

A flicker of unease crossed Damian’s face. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"I’m laughing at how pathetic you are," I sneered, my voice dripping with contempt. "I'm laughing at how blind, deaf, and utterly heartless you are! Damian Vance, do you really think I'm still the same desperate Harper from before? The stray dog who drops everything and crawls to your feet the second you whistle?"

I paused, staring straight through him. "Doesn't the hospital staff report every single detail to you? Maybe if you spent less time wining and dining another woman, you'd actually check your voicemails instead of using such a laughably stupid threat against me."

If Lily were still alive, let alone kneeling, I would have thrown myself off a cliff without hesitation if he asked.

But Lily was dead. He had lost his only leverage over me. I would die before I ever bowed to him again.

Before Damian could react, Chloe cut in defensively, "Damian and I just went away to clear his head because you make him miserable every single day!"

She turned to Damian, planting seeds of doubt. "Her sister probably recovered already! Or maybe she was never that sick to begin with! Otherwise, how could she possibly act like this? It's all an act to manipulate you."

Lily’s condition had deteriorated rapidly. The morphine had stopped working, leaving her screaming in agony through the nights, while I spent weeks without sleeping more than an hour.

Damian had known all of that. He knew precisely how close to death she was.

And yet, he didn't correct Chloe. Instead, he delivered his final ultimatum.

"Harper, I said it once, and I won't repeat myself. Get on your knees and apologize, and your sister gets to live."

"Her life is in your hands."

"Apologizing is out of the question," I smiled, the hatred in my eyes burning brighter than ever. "Do whatever the hell you want."

My total defiance finally shattered Damian’s composure. He let out a dark, sinister chuckle.

"I actually went out of my way to fly in the top specialist team from Mayo Clinic for her. As long as you were obedient, I was going to let them resume her care."

"But you chose to bite the hand that feeds you. Clearly, I've been far too soft on you. Don't come crawling back crying when it's too late."

With a smug expression, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and threw me a mocking glance. "Last chance."

I knew what he wanted. He was waiting for me to break, to throw myself at his feet and beg.

"You really look like a clown right now," I taunted, leaning into it.

Damian’s thumb froze above the screen. I almost wanted him to press call faster. I wanted to see the look on his face when his pathetic little kingdom crumbled.

I was sick to death of seeing him stand on his high horse, holding my sister’s life over my head.

Seeing that I had zero intention of begging, Damian’s hand tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned bone-white. With a cold snarl, he hit dial and put it on speaker.

"Send the specialist team packing. Effective immediately, stop all medical interventions for Harper’s sister."

His voice was chilled to the bone, delivered with the casual indifference of a god deciding a mortal’s fate.

I wondered if he had used that exact same tone the day he signed her death warrant.

The line went completely dead for a moment. Then, the medical director’s hesitant, terrified voice broke through the speaker:

"B-But... Mr. Vance... Miss Harper’s sister passed away three days ago. Per your direct orders to cease all critical care."