The silence in the room suggested even her friends found it absurd. Finally, someone spoke up, voice laced with hesitation.
"Faith... aren't you afraid Zion will find out and leave you?"
Faith scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. We're blood. No matter how bad things get, it's just a family squabble. Zion worships the ground I walk on. Even with a knife to his throat, he wouldn't leave me."
Her tone shifted to righteous justification. "What he's going through? Just a little lesson. Nathaniel is different—he's already suffered enough because he isn't blood-related. It's only right I compensate him."
Her voice turned ice-cold. "But listen closely: what happens in this room stays here. If a word reaches Zion, don't expect me to call you 'sister' ever again."
I slumped against the corridor wall. A chill radiated from my spine, numbing my hands and feet.
So the five years I spent destroying my body were nothing but a punchline to her.
My life, my freedom, my health—all sacrificed because Nathaniel felt "grievanced." In my sister's eyes, my suffering was insignificant. A "little lesson."
I wanted to laugh, but the tears fell first—hot and uncontrollable.
A phone rang inside. Footsteps approached the door. Panic surged. I spun to flee, but my coordination failed. I slammed into the club manager coming up behind me.
The vintage wine in his hands—tens of thousands a bottle—slipped.
Crash.
The manager's expression darkened. He kicked me to the ground before I could stammer an apology. The private room door opened. Faith swept past, her eyes glossing over my crumpled form to lock onto the figure striding down the hall.
She pulled Nathaniel into a tight embrace.
"Why did you come back alone? I told you I'd pick you up. Are you tired? I've arranged a professional care team at home."
Nathaniel smiled, all sunshine and innocence. "I missed you, Sis. I wanted to surprise you!"
I knelt less than a meter away, hidden behind my mask, terrified to breathe. The diamonds on Nathaniel's watch caught the light, blinding me. A single stone could have paid for a year of the imported medicine Faith claimed we couldn't afford.
"Ms. Gilbert," the manager interrupted, voice dropping to a grovel. "Terribly sorry to disturb your reunion. This clumsy idiot has no sense. I'll have fresh bottles brought up immediately."
To prove his point, he slapped the back of my head. Hard.
Pain exploded in my skull, but compared to ribs broken by loan sharks years ago, this was nothing. Still, my stomach twisted into a knot.
Faith frowned, impatient.
"Enough."
She pointed a manicured finger at me. "Since you broke it, you clean it up. By hand. Get every shard out of this carpet. If my brother steps on a single piece, I'll make you swallow it."
The carpet was thick, swallowing the jagged fragments. Glass embedded deep in the fibers, impossible to see. I crawled on hands and knees, pressing my palms into the carpet to find shards by touch.
Slice. Cut.
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at my trembling back. A smirk touched his lips before he turned to Faith, hooking his arm through hers, voice dropping to a whine. "Sis, I'm tired."
"Alright," Faith cooed. "Let's get you out of here. Too messy."
Her red high heel came down—not on the floor, but on the back of my hand. She pivoted, grinding the heel into my skin as she walked past, completely unaware—or uncaring—that she was stepping on her own brother.
I remained kneeling, staring at the glass now embedded deep in my palm.
The tears had stopped. A dry, broken laugh escaped my throat.
The manager recoiled, looking at me with disgust and fear. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why is your nose bleeding?"
I staggered to my feet, wiping the blood with my sleeve.
"I think," I whispered, "I might be dying."
