The hospital lights never dimmed. Even at night, they hummed softly—cold, sterile, relentless. Luiz hadn't slept in two days. Pain came and went like the tide, sometimes dull and distant, other times sharp enough to draw a gasp from his dry throat.
Mateo had fallen asleep in the chair beside him, head resting awkwardly against the wall, one hand still clutching the edge of Luiz's blanket. The boy hadn't left since their father stormed out. He refused food, ignored the nurses, and glared at anyone who tried to move him.
For the first time in years, Luiz thought he saw real fear in Mateo's eyes.
The clock on the wall clicked softly, marking another endless second. Then—he heard it.
Click. Click.
Heels.
His blood ran cold.
The sound grew louder, measured, unhurried. Whoever it was didn't belong here—not with that calm rhythm, that deliberate grace. Nurses rushed past, whispering quietly, glancing toward the approaching figure before quickly turning away.
The door opened without a knock.
Grandmother Valentine stepped inside.
She wore black again—always black. Her hair was immaculate, silver pinned neatly at the back of her head. Not a strand out of place. The faint scent of her perfume—old roses and iron—filled the room like the return of a ghost.
Luiz's fingers clenched the blanket. "Why—" His voice cracked. He swallowed. "Why are you here?"
Her eyes moved from the monitors to the sleeping boy beside him. For a moment, her expression softened—or perhaps it was only an illusion of light. Then she looked back at Luiz.
"You've caused a great deal of trouble," she said quietly. "As usual."
Luiz tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his ribs, forcing him to stay still. "You did this," he hissed. "You put me here."
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "If that's what you believe, then perhaps you still haven't learned."
"Learned what?" he spat, his voice rising despite the weakness. "How to kneel? How to keep quiet while you ruin everyone around you?"
She tilted her head slightly, unbothered by his fury. "No," she said softly. "How to survive."
Luiz's breath caught. The way she said it—like it was a secret, a curse, and a promise all at once—made his skin crawl.
"Do you know why your father allowed this?" she asked suddenly, stepping closer. "Because I told him to. Because I know what must be done to make you into something… useful."
"Useful?"
Her eyes sharpened. "A Valentine."
She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around him like a vice. "You carry your mother's weakness, Luiz. That bleeding heart of hers. It will destroy you unless you learn to cut it out yourself. I've simply accelerated the lesson."
His chest burned. "You think breaking me will make me loyal?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Not loyal. Unbreakable."
Mateo stirred then, mumbling something under his breath. Grandmother's gaze flicked toward him—brief, but cold. She lowered her voice to a whisper meant only for Luiz.
"You protect him because you think he needs saving. But tell me, Luiz—what happens when he learns what you really are?"
Luiz froze. "What do you mean?"
Her expression didn't change. "Some truths cannot stay buried forever."
She brushed a stray thread from his blanket, like a mother tending a child, then straightened. "Rest, my dear. The next time we meet, you will have a choice to make. And it will decide whether you remain my burden…"
Her eyes met his, sharp and gleaming. "…or become my weapon."
She turned toward the door, heels echoing softly down the hall.
Luiz stared after her, his pulse roaring in his ears. The machines beside him beeped faster, louder, matching the panic crawling up his spine.
What did she mean?
He turned his head toward Mateo—still asleep, innocent, unaware.
And for the first time, Luiz felt fear not for himself…but for what his grandmother might already have planned for his little brother.