Grandmother Valentine circled the hospital bed like a vulture. Her cane struck the floor with every slow, deliberate step — tap, tap, tap — the sound of judgment itself.
Luiz stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched. He could smell her perfume — lavender and cold iron — a scent that clung to every hallway in their estate, a scent that meant power.
"You've embarrassed this family again," she said softly, her tone almost tender, which made it worse. "A fight, in public. Blood, police, rumors." She leaned closer, voice turning sharp. "Do you understand what that does to our name?"
Luiz met her eyes, bruised and unbroken. "Maybe your name deserves it."
Her smile didn't falter. "You sound like your father. That's not a compliment."
The air thickened. For a moment, neither spoke. Machines kept their indifferent rhythm beside him.
"You think I don't know what's been going on at that school?" she continued, her cane resting against the bed. "You and your little rebellion — pretending you're one of them. The poor, the unwanted. As if you weren't born a Valentine."
"I never asked to be one," Luiz murmured.
Her hand moved so fast he almost didn't see it — the slap was sharp, ringing through the sterile room. His head snapped to the side.
She didn't raise her voice. "You should be grateful I even let you carry our name after what your mother did."
Luiz's hands tightened around the sheets. He wanted to speak — to throw the truth back in her face — but he stopped. Her eyes were cold, endless. Fighting her here was suicide.
So he breathed. Waited. Calculated.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice low, controlled.
She studied him, searching for sincerity, then nodded once. "You'll stay quiet until the press forgets. No more school for now. When you recover, we'll find something productive for you to do."
She turned to leave, cane striking the tiles in slow rhythm.
At the door, she paused. "And Luiz… next time you raise your voice to me, make sure you're strong enough to stand after."
The door shut behind her, leaving only the hum of machines.
Luiz exhaled shakily. His entire body throbbed, but his mind was sharper than it had been in days. He turned to the window, the lights of the city bleeding into the sea beyond. The island glittered like gold — a kingdom built on pride and wine and secrets.
No more silence. No more waiting.
He needed to get out. Back to school. Back to something that wasn't the Valentine curse.
He thought of his brother — his only reason. If he could find a way to earn, even a small job, maybe he could support him quietly, away from her control.
A knock broke the silence. A nurse entered, carrying a chart. "You should rest," she said gently.
But Luiz wasn't listening. He was staring at the hospital ID tag dangling from her pocket — the same one used by staff who entered and exited without question.
An idea sparked.
He turned his head away, pretending to sleep, but a faint smirk curved his lips.
Let her think he was broken. Let her think she'd won.
He was done being their silent heir.
And when he left that island — he wouldn't be coming back the same.