Violet worked fast. Within two days, she found the hospital where Grandpa was staying and gave me another contact number, the person who would help erase every trace of Olivia from the world. Everything was ready. Almost everything. There was only one thing left for me to do.
See Grandpa before it was too late.
The morning I left, I dressed carefully and even put on a little makeup to hide how exhausted I looked. On the way, I bought a bouquet of flowers. For the first time in years, I felt nervous.
When I was sentenced, I had begged Alaric for only one thing. Don't tell Grandpa.
He was the man who raised me, taught me how to ride a bicycle, walked me to school, and always saved the biggest piece of meat for me at dinner. He knew nothing about the rumors, nothing about the lies, nothing about what people said my brother had done to me.
Because none of it was true.
My brother had never touched me.
He was dead and couldn't defend himself, yet people still dragged his name through the mud. Grandpa was old, his heart was weak, and I couldn't bear the thought of him hearing those accusations.
Standing outside his hospital room, I tightened my grip on the flowers and slowly smiled. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe I would finally see him.
My fingers touched the doorknob.
Then something shattered inside the room.
A sharp voice followed.
Margaret laughed. "Look carefully, old man. See these pictures? Your precious granddaughter tied to a bed. I've got dozens more if you want to see them."
My blood turned cold.
Margaret continued mercilessly. "Do you know what your granddaughter's dead brother used to do to her? He molested her for years. He raped her. He ruined her."
Every word was a lie.
Margaret laughed again. "But that's not even the best part. You were the one who sent Olivia to live with him, so what does that make you? An accomplice? A failure? Maybe you deserve this too."
My breathing stopped.
Margaret stepped closer to the bed. "Your granddaughter is disgusting. Everyone online knows it. They know what kind of woman she is and what kind of family she comes from. Tell me, old man, why is someone like her still alive?"
I kicked the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
"GRANDPA!"
My damaged voice cracked through the room.
Margaret spun around. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by something that looked almost like disappointment.
My bouquet slipped from my hands.
I looked straight at Grandpa.
His face had turned blue. His hands trembled violently. Tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks while one hand clawed at his chest. The moment his cloudy eyes found me, more tears spilled out.
Grandpa's lips trembled. "O... Olivia..."
I ran to his side. "Grandpa, I'm here. It's okay. I'm here."
His shaking hand reached toward me.
"Oli..."
The monitor beside him suddenly erupted.
BEEEEEEP!
Doctors rushed forward. Nurses shouted. The room descended into chaos.
Then Margaret screamed.
"My foot! It hurts!"
I turned and saw blood spreading beneath her shoe. She had stepped onto the broken porcelain she had thrown earlier.
The door burst open.
Alaric rushed inside. "Marga, what happened?"
The second he saw her crying, his attention locked onto her.
Margaret grabbed his shirt. "Alaric, I'm scared. My foot hurts so much."
Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms.
Only then did he notice me.
His eyes moved from my tear-streaked face to Grandpa lying unconscious on the bed. Somehow, he still reached the wrong conclusion.
"Olivia," Alaric said coldly, "how many times do I have to tell you? Why do you keep causing trouble for Marga?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
My grandfather was dying.
And he was worried about Margaret's foot.
The monitor shrieked louder while doctors continued trying to save Grandpa.
Margaret suddenly clutched her chest. "Alaric, I can't breathe."
Panic appeared on his face instantly.
"Marga, stay calm."
Then he turned toward the medical staff.
"I said get over here."
One doctor hesitated. "But sir, the patient—"
Alaric's expression darkened. "I said get over here. Don't make me repeat myself."
The entire ward fell silent.
His voice thundered through the room. "If anything happens to Marga, every single one of you is finished."
My heart stopped.
The doctors looked between Grandpa and Margaret, trapped and terrified.
I stumbled forward and grabbed Alaric's pant leg.
"Please," I begged. "Grandpa fainted. Please save him." Tears blurred my vision. "Please."
For a moment, I thought he would listen.
Instead, disgust appeared in his eyes.
"Your grandfather had enough strength to attack Marga," Alaric said coldly. "Stop acting like he's dying."
I shook my head frantically. "He didn't. He never touched her."
But Alaric had already decided.
Like always.
He pulled away from me, turned around, and walked out carrying Margaret in his arms.
The doctors exchanged helpless glances.
Then one of them slowly approached me.
Before he even spoke, I already knew.
"Miss Olivia," the doctor whispered, his voice breaking, "I'm sorry."
No.
"Your grandfather has passed away."
No!
The world stopped.
Tears hit my arm one after another.
I hadn't cried in years, but suddenly I couldn't stop.
I shook my head repeatedly.
"No."
The doctors began leaving. They had already been ordered away. There was nothing more they could do. I grabbed their sleeves desperately.
"Please save him! I'll— I'll do anything." My knees slammed into the floor. "Please!"
I bowed my head again and again until my forehead struck the ground. Blood ran down my face, but I didn't care.
"Please save him. But nobody stopped.
One by one, they left.
Until only Grandpa and I remained.
The room was painfully silent.
I stared at his motionless body.
And something inside me finally shattered.
A scream tore from my throat, raw and broken, the sound of someone who had lost everything.
This time, there was nobody left to hear it.
…
The day I was supposed to leave, the sky looked like it was about to collapse. Dark clouds covered everything, blocking every trace of sunlight. It reminded me of my life.
The past few days had been spent handling Grandpa's funeral. I signed documents, met relatives, accepted condolences, and repeated the same empty words until they lost all meaning. By the end, I felt nothing at all.
I returned home for one reason only, to collect my luggage.
The moment I stepped inside, I saw Alaric sitting in the living room. For a second, I almost didn't recognize him.
He hadn't attended Grandpa's funeral. He hadn't called, texted, or asked how I was doing. Yet there he was, sitting comfortably in our house as if nothing had happened.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes. A stack of documents sat on the coffee table. The moment he saw me, he stood and pushed them toward me.
"Take a look," Alaric said tiredly. "I've already reviewed everything. Just read it and tell me if there's a problem."
I lowered my gaze.
Divorce papers.
