The side room became my prison for over an hour. Dr. Martinez packed his instruments and left without meeting my eyes, murmuring something about keeping the wound clean. After he closed the door, silence pressed against my eardrums—not true silence, but something worse. Through the walls, I could hear the party continuing as if nothing had happened. Laughter rippled like water. Champagne glasses clinked in celebration. The string quartet played something light and romantic.
No one came to check on me.
I sat on the medical cot, hands folded in my lap, feeling the pull of fresh stitches with every breath. My reflection stared back from a small mirror on the wall—pale skin, hollow eyes, the angry red line carved from my temple down to my neck. The doctor had said it would scar. Of course it would. Avayah had made sure of that.
The door finally opened. Ronan stepped inside, still in his pristine suit, not a hair out of place. He glanced at my bandaged forehead with the clinical detachment of someone inspecting property damage.
"Dr. Martinez took care of it?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good." He adjusted his cufflinks, a gesture I'd once found elegant. Now it just looked like impatience. "I need to get back. People are asking questions."
I stared at him. "Questions about what?"
"About the incident." His tone suggested I should understand without him having to explain. "It's being handled. I spoke to Avayah—she understands she overreacted. It won't happen again."
Something cracked open inside my chest. "She overreacted? Ronan, she attacked me with broken glass."
"She was upset." He moved toward the door. "You know how sensitive she is. Just... try to avoid antagonizing her before the wedding, alright?"
He left before I could respond. The door clicked shut, and I sat there in the sterile white room, listening to my fiancé's footsteps fade back toward the music and laughter. Back toward the party celebrating our wedding. Back toward Avayah.
I didn't know how long I sat there. Eventually, the sounds died down. Guests departed. Engines started in the driveway. The mansion settled into its nighttime quiet, all that false celebration draining away like water through a sieve.
My room felt different when I finally returned to it. Colder. The mirror above my vanity reflected a stranger—someone with fresh wounds and older scars I'd refused to acknowledge. I sank onto the cushioned bench, fingers automatically reaching for the jade pendant at my throat.
My mother's pendant. The only piece of her I had left.
I held it between my thumb and forefinger, feeling its familiar weight and smoothness. She'd given it to me on her deathbed, pressing it into my palm with trembling hands. "Never forget who you are," she'd whispered. "Never let anyone take that from you."
I'd failed her. I'd let Ronan take everything—my blood, my dignity, my sense of self. And tomorrow, I'd been ready to give him even more.
The door to my room opened without a knock.
Avayah stood in the threshold, still wearing that blood-red gown though it hung disheveled now, the fabric creased and the neckline askew. Her makeup had smudged, giving her eyes a wild, predatory look. She closed the door behind her with a deliberate click that made my stomach clench.
"Did you really think Ronan would marry someone like you?" Her voice was honey poured over razors as she moved into the room, circling me like a wolf testing its prey. "You're nothing but a blood bag. A resource."
I should have stood. Should have demanded she leave. But exhaustion pinned me to the bench, my body too drained from blood loss and betrayal to fight anymore.
"Please leave," I said quietly.
Avayah's laughter was sharp and brittle. "Please leave," she mimicked in a whining tone. Then her eyes fixed on my hand, still clutching the jade pendant. Her expression shifted—cruel interest replacing mockery. "What's this?"
I instinctively covered the pendant with both hands, pressing it against my chest. "Nothing. Just... please go."
"If it's nothing, why are you protecting it?" She stepped closer, head tilted like a curious cat examining a trapped mouse. "Let me see."
"It was my mother's." The words came out before I could stop them. "It's all I have left of her. An heirloom."
Avayah's smile transformed into something vicious and gleaming. "How precious."
She lunged.
Her hands closed around the pendant's chain, yanking with brutal force. The delicate links bit into the back of my neck, cutting skin before snapping. I cried out, reaching desperately for the pendant as Avayah stumbled backward, dangling it from her fingers like a trophy.
"Give it back!" I surged to my feet, but dizziness from the blood loss made the room tilt. "Please, Avayah, it's all I have of her. It's priceless to me—"
"This old thing?" Avayah examined the pendant with theatrical contempt, turning it over in the lamplight. "It's not even real jade."
"I don't care what it's worth!" Desperation cracked my voice. "Please, just give it back. I'm begging you."
Her eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at my desperation. She walked to the center of the room with deliberate slowness, holding the pendant high where I could see it clearly. Then she dropped it.
The pendant hit the hardwood floor with a delicate clink.
"No—" I started forward, but Avayah raised her high-heeled foot and brought it down. The jade cracked. She stomped again. And again. And again, grinding her heel in circles, pulverizing my mother's heirloom into smaller and smaller fragments while maintaining eye contact with me.
I lunged forward on instinct, dropping to my knees, reaching for the pieces. Maybe I could save something. Maybe—
Avayah's heel came down on my outstretched hand.
Pain exploded through my palm as her weight settled, the sharp heel crushing down into the delicate bones of my fingers. I screamed, trying to pull away, but she pressed harder, leaning her weight into it.
"Know your place," she hissed above me, her voice soft and deadly. "You were never the bride. You were only ever the blood."
