I gasped, dropping to my knees. My hands scrambled frantically over the freezing floor, searching for the tiny white pill. I needed it. My chest was caving in, my vision blurring at the edges.
Roger grabbed my shoulders and yanked me up roughly. "I asked you a question, Ysabel! Why are you taking antidepressants? You’re supposed to be better now!"
"I... I can't breathe," I choked out, my whole body trembling violently. The panic was swallowing me whole. "Please, Roger. Let me go find it. Please..."
He scoffed, his grip tightening until his fingers dug into my bruised skin. "Are you doing this for fun? Is this just another one of your little shows to get my attention?"
"No!" I sobbed, my teeth chattering. "I'm not faking! I just... the pain... please!"
"Stop it!" he snapped, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. "You're faking it again! It’s been ten years since you lost the child, Ysabel. Ten years! Come on, grow up and get over it!"
His words were like glass shredding my throat. Get over it.
Tears poured down my face. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor again. "I just want to know where he is," I begged, clutching the hem of his expensive coat. "Please, Roger. Just tell me where my baby is buried. That's all I want. Please..."
Roger looked down at me, his expression hardening into something cruel and unrecognizable. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a deadly, quiet threat.
"If you do not stop this hysterical act right now," he hissed, "I will cut off the funds for your mother’s medication today. And your sister? I’ll make a few calls and her little modeling career will be over before she even wakes up. Do you really want that?"
The air left my lungs. My mother's life-saving treatments. My sister's only dream. He held all of it in the palm of his hand, and he was crushing it just to break me.
"No... no, please don't," I whimpered, shaking my head frantically. "I'll be quiet. I'll stop."
"Good," he said coldly, straightening his suit. "You will not take those pills anymore. You don't need them. And you will not divorce me."
I looked up at him through my tears, my chest heaving. Nothing made sense anymore. "Why?" I cried out, my voice cracking. "Why won't you just let me go? You have Cheska! You have your heir! Why do you still want to keep me?"
Roger’s jaw tightened. He looked away for a fraction of a second before staring back into my eyes. "Because I still love you."
I froze. A bitter, broken laugh tore its way out of my throat. I shook my head, the room spinning wildly around me.
"You wouldn't cheat on me if you loved me," I gasped, the darkness creeping into the corners of my vision. The lack of oxygen was making my limbs go numb. "If you really love me... how about you just kill me? Just kill me, Roger..."
"Ysabel!"
His voice sounded muffled, like I was underwater. The harsh fluorescent lights above flickered, and then the world tilted. My eyes rolled back, and the cold darkness finally pulled me under.
When I came to, my head was pounding. The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. I was lying on a stiff hospital bed in a dimly lit room.
I tried to sit up, but my body felt like lead.
Then, I heard voices filtering through the slightly open door.
"Are her vitals stable?" It was Roger's voice, low and irritated.
"Yes, Mr. Thorne," a doctor replied nervously. "But her panic attack was severe. She needs her medication to manage the trauma—"
"No," Roger cut him off sharply. "Don't let her drink the medicine."
"Sir, without it, she will suffer immensely—"
"That’s the point," Roger sneered, his voice dripping with a venom I had never heard before. "That is her punishment for losing my heir."
I stopped breathing. I lay completely paralyzed in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Because of her," Roger continued, his tone filled with pure, unadulterated hatred, "I lost the CEO position. I lost the main company to my cousin because I couldn't produce an heir for ten years! She ruined my life."
The doctor stayed dead silent.
"Make sure she stays alive," Roger ordered coldly. "She can't die early. She has to pay for every single thing she costs me."
Footsteps clicked sharply against the linoleum hallway, stopping just outside my door.
"Don't worry, Roger. I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."
The remaining air vanished from my lungs. My blood turned to absolute ice.
I knew that voice. I had spent my entire life protecting the owner of that voice.
It was Mia. My younger sister.
"You're doing a good job keeping her in line, Mia," Roger said, his tone shifting into something smooth and approving. "Are you sure she doesn't suspect anything about the medical funds?"
Mia let out a soft, dismissive laugh that sent a violent shudder down my spine. "Ysabel is an idiot. She still thinks Mom is alive in that facility in Switzerland. As long as you keep funding my modeling agency, I'll keep forging Mom's letters to her."
"Good. And Cheska?" Roger asked.
"Cheska is resting," Mia replied smoothly. "I told you introducing my best friend to you was a brilliant idea. She's giving you the heir Ysabel never could."
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the agonizing sob tearing up my throat.
My sister. My own flesh and blood. The girl whose dreams I had just sacrificed my last shred of dignity to protect.
She had sold me out. She had introduced Roger to his mistress.
And my mother... my mother was already dead.
