Briana Bond POV:
Three days. Three days I lay in that hospital bed, my leg a constantly throbbing inferno. Only the new intern nurses, hurried and careless, ever came to change my bandages. Their movements were rough, the antiseptic a fresh sting. They simply cleaned the wound, smeared on some generic ointment, and moved on. It did nothing. My body, already ravaged by the cold and hunger, trembled with silent agony each time they touched me. My fingers, white-knuckled, gripped the thin bedsheets until my knuckles ached.
One afternoon, Gabriel burst in, his face etched with a familiar mixture of anger and frustration. He watched the intern roughly clean my wound, his jaw tightening. With a sudden growl, he snatched the antiseptic bottle from her hand. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. "Why don't you ever cry out? Why don't you scream?"
He remembered the old Briana, the one who would whimper and cling, demanding comfort. The one who relied on his touch, his soothing words. That Briana was gone. This new Briana, the one who now inhabited my damaged body, preferred to suffer in silence, her pain a private battle.
He gently, almost tentatively, dabbed at my wound, his touch unexpectedly tender. He was waiting. I knew he was. Waiting for me to break, to beg, to revert to the girl he knew, the girl he believed he could control. He would give me another chance, I knew it. He would keep me as his fiancée, his possession.
I turned my head away from him, towards the window, where the weak winter sun cast long, cold shadows. "I'm sorry, Gabriel," I whispered, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I won't trouble you anymore." A small, bitter smile touched my lips. "If the engagement is an inconvenience, I can speak to Emmanuel about dissolving it."
His face, which had softened momentarily, hardened instantly. "Is this another one of your games, Briana?" he snarled, his eyes blazing with renewed fury. "Are you trying to manipulate me again? Don't be ridiculous!" He threw the antiseptic bottle against the wall, the plastic shattering with a sharp crack. Then he stormed out, slamming the door shut, leaving me alone once more.
A faint, weary chuckle escaped my lips. Games? No, Gabriel. No more games. Only the truth.
The next morning, Emmanuel Robbins, Gabriel' s mentor and the only true father figure I had ever known, stood in my doorway. The sight of him, his kind eyes filled with worry, brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. He wasn't my blood relation, but he had always treated me with unwavering love and care, a stark contrast to Gabriel' s transactional affection. My greatest fear, when I was lost in the snow, hadn't been death but the thought of him worrying, of him grieving. He had taken me in when I had nothing, nurtured me, promised me he would always support me. Seeing his gentle smile now, I swallowed down all the pain, all the despair. I wouldn't let him worry. I wouldn't let him see how truly broken I was.
But his smile vanished when he saw my leg. His face turned ashen, then purple with rage. "What is the meaning of this, Doctor?" he thundered, his voice shaking with fury, aimed at Cory who had just walked in. Emmanuel's cane, usually a steady companion, crashed against the tiled floor, a thunderous sound that echoed through the room. Emmanuel Robbins, even in his old age, was a force to be reckoned with. He had built an empire, crushed rivals, and commanded respect with a single glare.
Cory, the arrogant doctor, visibly flinched, his face paling. He stammered, "Mr. Robbins! I... I assure you, there must be a mistake! I've been diligent, truly! She simply refuses treatment, always trying to gain sympathy, you see."
Emmanuel's eyes narrowed, seeing through the flimsy lie. He raised his cane, bringing it down with a swift, brutal force that sent Cory sprawling to the floor. "Liar!" he roared, his voice trembling with indignation.
Just then, Candace, attracted by the commotion, rushed into the room. "Oh, dear Mr. Robbins!" she cried, rushing to Emmanuel's side. "What's happened? Has Briana upset you again? She can be so difficult, I know, but please, calm yourself!" She tried to intercede, to play her usual manipulative game.
Emmanuel' s hand, the one that wasn't gripping the cane, shot out, delivering a sharp, stinging slap across Candace' s face. It cracked loud in the silent room. "Don't you dare speak of Briana like that!" he bellowed, his eyes blazing. "You and your conniving brother are nothing but liars, both of you! I know what you've done! I will see you both punished!" His fury was so absolute, so commanding, that no one dared to move, no one dared to intervene. Candace stood frozen, a crimson bruise blooming on her cheek, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
Just then, Gabriel, drawn by the shouts, appeared in the doorway. He took in the scene: his mentor, a picture of righteous fury, Candace clutching her bleeding lip, and me, still and silent on the bed, watching it all unfold. Candace immediately burst into theatrical tears, throwing herself into Gabriel' s arms. "Oh, Gabriel!" she sobbed, "I don't know what Briana could have said to upset Mr. Robbins so terribly! But it's alright, truly. You don't have to worry about me, no matter how much they hurt me."
Gabriel' s face turned glacial. He held Candace close, his eyes burning with a cold, protective rage. "Briana," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You are not fit to even stand in Candace's shadow. And anyone who dares to hurt her, will answer to me."
