A sharp, stabbing pain dragged Nova from the darkness.
The acrid sting of disinfectant filled her nose. She had barely twitched her right leg when a nurse’s voice snapped out, “Don’t move! The donor skin graft just finished. Your wound isn’t healed yet!”
“…What?!”
But before the nurse could explain, another call bell rang, pulling her away. Alone in the sterile room, Nova was left with shock and agony twisting inside her.
The door stood ajar. From the hallway, hushed, gossiping whispers slithered in.
“The man in the next room is so tall and handsome! He’s been doting on his girlfriend all night—so attentive.”
“Right? His girlfriend just burned the soles of her feet a little, and he gave her the most delicate skin from his own sister’s inner thigh. Now that’s true love!”
Nova wished she could black out again. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Just then, the door swung open. Richard walked in. Seeing the cold sweat of pain on her forehead, a flicker of something rare—guilt, perhaps—crossed his face.
“There was a fire yesterday,” he said, his voice flat. “You and Sophie were both burned. Your leg was severe. Hers was just her foot.”
He paused, then added coolly, “You’ll have scars anyway. What’s one more? So I had a little taken for Sophie.”
Nova stared, disbelief freezing her in place. She couldn’t fathom the sheer audacity.
“Richard. How dare you take my skin for someone else without even asking me?”
“I know you’re kind,” Richard said, his tone softening into placation. “You’re the Nova heiress. You have access to countless private doctors and medicines worth millions. You can afford the best care. Sophie… she doesn’t have any of that—”
“What does that have to do with me?!”
The vase on the bedside table flew past Richard, smashing against the wall behind him. The IV needle tore from the back of her hand, ballooning the skin and welling with blood.
Richard froze. He looked at the tears she refused to let fall, and a strange discomfort twisted in his gut.
“Stop this,” he said, his voice tight. “Haven’t you always complained I never have time for you? I’ll take care of you properly while you recover.”
A cold, bitter laugh escaped Nova. A tear finally fell, splashing onto the thick bandages wrapping her thigh.
“Isn’t this just because you know I loved you?” Her voice was low, venomous. “Know your place, Richard.”
She sat upright in the bed, sunlight outlining her rigid silhouette. “You’re just a stray my father picked up to look after me. What right do you have to say such things?”
For years, she had been the one forbidding anyone from looking down on him. This was the first time she had ripped open their bloody past and used her status to crush him.
“You let them force-feed me drinks and grope me. You left me alone to burn in that fire. And now you take my skin without my consent.”
Her gaze hardened. “Richard. By family law, how many strikes do you deserve?”
Richard stared, stunned. His fists clenched, knuckles cracking with a sickening sound.
He took one step back. Then, with spine-straight precision, he knelt on the floor before her.
“…Three.”
His kneeling was decisive, yet it felt like a physical weight crashing onto Nova’s chest, stealing her breath.
Richard was so much more than just a foster son.
The formidable Mr Richard, for Sophie’s sake, was willing to kneel—to sacrifice his dignity and accept punishment.
All her misplaced love and festering hate condensed into her bleeding right hand. Nova raised it and brought it down in a vicious slap—
“Ah!”
