Liam had already scooped Vanessa up in his arms and was walking briskly towards the villa. Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder, a victorious smile playing on her lips. Lila followed behind like a shadow, turning back to glare at Clara before leaving and muttering, "You nasty fatso."
No one looked back at her, no one asked her if she was in pain, and no one cared whether she could stand up again.
Clara slowly reached out and picked up the ballet pendant from the grass. One of the diamonds had been chipped off, making it look particularly broken in the moonlight. She clutched the pendant tightly, the sharp edge of the diamond piercing her palm, drawing tiny beads of blood that mingled with the blood on her back.
She looked up at the warm yellow light shining from the villa, which had once been her home, her whole world. But now, all that remained was a facade of tenderness and a chilling indifference.
Clara took a deep breath, the last trace of lingering affection in her eyes completely extinguished. She vowed in her heart: she wanted neither this cold-hearted man nor this ungrateful child. From this day forward, she would live only for herself, for the Clara who had once shone brightly on the stage .
The pain in her back continued, but her eyes grew increasingly resolute. She slowly pushed herself up and walked step by step toward the outside of the manor—there lay her suitcase, her plane ticket to Germany, and her new beginning.
Clara, supporting herself on a pillar in the pavilion, slowly stood up. The wound on her back burned like fire; every step pulled at her flesh, and the seeping blood had stained the back of her loungewear a dark brown, sticking to her back, cold and astringent. She took out her phone, her fingertips trembling slightly from blood loss, and dialed her private doctor's number—the one she had hired with her ballet competition prize money years ago, who had been responsible for her family's health for years. This doctor had been by her side during her dance injuries and prenatal checkups.
"Doctor, I have a back injury and I need you to come and treat it." Clara 's voice was weak and strained; the sharp pain in her back forced her to lean against the wall to keep her balance.
After a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, Dr. Zhang's troubled voice came through: "Madam, I'm so sorry... Mr. Liam just called me and said that Ms. Vanessa was injured outside and asked me to go to the city's central hospital immediately. He also specifically emphasized that Ms. Vanessa 's hand is used for playing the piano and cannot be scarred, and that I must handle it myself... Could you... wait until I get back from the hospital?"
“There are doctors in the hospital, of course.” Clara sneered, her laughter filled with sorrow. “Dr. Zhang, I am also the master of this house. I will double your consultation fee for coming today, and I will also give you an extra tip for your trouble.” She knew Liam ’s priorities all too well— Vanessa ’s minor scrape was “extremely precious,” while her bleeding back could only “wait a while.”
After hanging up the phone, Clara slowly walked back to the villa, leaning against the wall. The living room was empty; no one asked where she had been, no one cared about her wound. She found the first-aid kit herself, clumsily unwrapped the gauze, and tried to bandage herself—the wound on her back was invisible, so she could only feel her way around. When the alcohol swab touched the wound, the pain made her shudder, and tears almost welled up in her eyes. Before, when she injured herself while dancing, Liam would carefully treat her wound, blowing on it and scolding her, "How could you be so careless?" But now, the person who would have cared for her was by another woman's side.
After the wound was finally bandaged, Dr. Zhang arrived. While re-treating the wound, Dr. Zhang couldn't help but sigh, "Madam, this wound is quite deep; any later and it might get infected. Mr. Liam ... didn't he see it?"
Clara didn't speak, she just closed her eyes. She didn't want to mention Liam again ; every time she did, it felt like a stab to her heart.
After her wounds were treated, Clara drifted off to sleep. The pain in her back kept recurring like waves, making her sleep restless. Her dreams were filled with scenes from seven years ago—she was standing on stage in her dance dress, Liam applauding her from below, his eyes shining brighter than a spotlight. Suddenly, the stage collapsed, and she fell into darkness, all she could hear were Lila 's curses and Vanessa 's laughter.
She was awakened by a commotion. Opening her eyes, she saw the living room was crowded with people—nurses were pushing wheelchairs and physiotherapy equipment, and several doctors in white coats were busy moving various medical devices into the guest room. Vanessa sat on the sofa, a small bandage on her elbow, being carefully supported by Liam , who asked softly, "Does it still hurt? The doctor said you need to do physiotherapy for a few days. I'll move the equipment home so it'll be more convenient for you."
“ Mr. Liam , this is too much trouble for you…” Vanessa ’s voice was trembling with tears, her eyes red. “I only scraped my skin, and you’ve gone to such lengths. It’s making me feel bad.”
Clara leaned against the bedroom door, looking at the expensive medical equipment, then down at the gauze on her back that was faintly bleeding—her wound was ten times worse than Vanessa's , yet she had to find the first-aid kit to treat it herself, without even receiving a word of concern.
Liam turned and saw her, the gentleness on his face instantly fading, and he gave a perfunctory explanation: " Teacher Vanessa is injured, so it's more convenient for her to recuperate at home. Consider this an apology on your behalf."
