Viona's POV
"I know it. I'm a doctor, Viona. Of course, I care." He said that, yet his hand was wrapped around Vivian.
They were made for each other.
"No. You—"
"Let's talk about that, Viona. You should just accept this. With your hormonal condition, it would be difficult for you to bear children, right? We did the tests. And even though Vivian doesn't have long to live, she can get pregnant and give birth. So you wait for a year, dear… you'll be blessed with my son and my grandson at once. How lucky you'll be." Caroline said sweetly, as if she wasn't gutting me alive.
"Mother, don't talk like that," Roman warned.
My mom cried harder, hugging Vivian, who was also sobbing.
"Yes, sister… I… I will give you a son. I will save this family's engagement and provide the heir. You can raise my child later. We can make this work together, sister," Vivian clarified through her sob.
I felt dizzy. The explanations were getting more ridiculous and suffocating. I gasped, clutching my chest tight.
"Wh… what kind of joke is this?" I stammered.
"You should understand my concern, dear Viona. The family arranged marriage cannot be stopped. And I can't let my son be childless. It will work just fine. Too bad Vivian has a rare, fatal disease. If not, they could just get married without dragging you into this. You don't even need to come tomorrow. So be patient, right? You can still call me mother and—"
"Mother, Enough!" Roman yelped while still soothing Vivian.
I didn't know what to say. This was too much. I gripped the side of the hospital bed. I felt like I would collapse, too. But no one held me. I looked at my mother, who was still embracing Vivian.
"Mom… what is this? Can you tell me what this is?" Can you hold me too? The whining words I wished I could speak.
"Viona, just lay low for now. As long as Vivian can be happy in her last days, please, just let it go."
My mother's words felt like a numbing blow that drained all my senses.
She tried to persuade me, but her hands clung to my sister, as if I would hurt her.
I couldn't even feel the sting of my nails digging hard into my palm.
Or the burning heat rising from my head. Even my tears felt like a dry river.
But of them all, I despised Roman more. He took my dignity, treating me like his mistress. How could I have been that stupid?
I dragged a long, shuddering breath. "Fine. You two just go marry. But let me out of this madness. I don't want to be tied to the arranged marriage or just stand by as a substitute anymore."
Roman looked anxious. "You can't do that. We need another bride if something—"
"Something won't happen so soon." My gaze snapped toward Vivian. "And you, sister, are you really going to die? Did none of your experimental treatments succeed?" I asked.
"What… what do you mean, sister? None of them. All the treatments failed. Are you saying I'm lying? Why…" her sobs got harder.
"I heard—"
Slap!
My mother slapped me. Hard!
"Get out!"
She kicked me out.
I couldn't contain the rage burning through my chest, but I refused to let them see my broken tears fall heavier.
I ran. Got out. And I saw my father and some people stepping out of the elevator, coming right toward me.
I stumbled. I couldn't let him see me like this. My fingers pressed the button for another room. I hid. Covering my sobbing mouth with both hands.
My knees gave out. I hammered my chest, falling to the floor, releasing my choked-back tears.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The tears kept coming. A wound pressed. The harder I tried to stop them, the more they gushed out.
I slammed my fists—chest, thigh, chest, thigh. Alternating.
How could she slap me? Even though she was never fond of me, even though I did remind her of her own self-hatred. But wasn't I her daughter too?
I cried a ragged wail, clutching my chest as if holding together a bursting pile of misery.
Seconds later, when my breath still hitched in my chest—
"Pathetic." A voice. Male.
"You said you would become a fiery prosecutor. But what I see right now is just… A pathetic dumpster."
I was stunned. That voice… that mocking voice…
I turned slowly.
And there he was. A mocking smirk I knew too well.
Rafael Kingston.
I blinked. Just to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
But the sharp brown eyes, the tousled semi-curly hair, and the handsome face—all chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, complete with a two-inch scar etched above his right brow—screamed Rafael Kingston.
The heir to the Kingston Group.
The biggest tycoon in the nation's pharmaceutical and food industries.
Roman's rival since God knows when.
And, because of that rivalry, he became my enemy too—or not? How we came to hate each other was a blank.
And, obviously, the last person I wanted seeing me like this.
My luck was utterly rotten.
My hands flew up, frantically wiping the streaming tears from my cheeks.
I managed to stand just as he tossed the tissue box, letting it skid right beside me.
My head felt light from the choked-back rage and the sob.
"You can keep crying. Don't mind me. I don't care." He remarked.
I ignored him, turning my back to grab a handful of tissues. I blew my nose hard, as if the force could eject my misery.
"Finished already?" He chuckled. "It's no fun."
He and his foul mouth. Should I throw this runny tissue and stuff it in his face?
Too bad my sanity still steered my hand toward the trash bin.
I turned to him.
"Wh–what are you do—" I cut the question short, the hospital gown he wore was the obvious answer.
Sick? But no IV line?
"I'm spying." He gave the exact answer I didn't want to hear.
In my normal state, I would have thrown down with him instantly. But I had zero energy left for another fight.
"Sorry for the intrusion." I gave a small bow. "And thank you." I placed the tissue box back on the sofa table.
He just smirked, rolling onto his side, one hand propping up his head.
It was an unnerving smirk that could make anyone uneasy—it radiated pure intimidation.
Or, well, it always did for me, ever since high school.
I turned to leave the room.
But through the glass of the door, I could see my father and my cousin still talking in the hallway in front of Vivian's room, along with Roman's father and some doctors.
It would be a nightmare to explain why I was coming out of this room with swollen eyes.
And most importantly, I absolutely could not look weak in front of my father. That was more terrifying.
"So you're not going to your twin's wedding?" Rafael's question snapped me alert.