The hospital lobby felt like walking into a warzone.
Every sound was too loud. Every fluorescent light was too bright. The smell of antiseptic choked me.
I clutched my phone like a weapon, the bank app open. $2,000,000.00. it was Blood money. It was guilt money. It was Liam's money now. I just needed to pay. Make last night mean something.
My legs felt hollow like it was made of paper.
I walked towards the billing department with my head down. I focus on the tiles and counted them. White. Grey. White. Grey.
Don't think about last night. Don't think about the shower. Don't think about Alexander's surprised blue eyes. Just pay the bill. Save Liam. That's all that matters.
I told myself over and over again.
I reached the billing desk. A woman with kind eyes looked up. "Can I help you?"
"Yes," my voice rasped. "I'm Helene James. Here to pay… to settle the account for Liam Throne. Room 314." I held up my phone, ready to transfer the obscene amount.
The woman's expression shifted. She tapped on her keyboard and then proceeded to frowned slightly. She tapped again.
"Miss James…" she started slowly. "There must be some confusion. The account for Mr. Scott… it was settled in full this morning."
The world tilted. "Settled? What? No. That's not possible. I'm here to pay it." My knuckles were white around the phone.
"It's paid"
"Who paid it?" I forced out.
"It was a private wire transfer," she said gently, sensing my panic, she added. "From the Atticus Scott Family Foundation."
Atticus Scott Family Foundation. The name hit me like ice water. "Why would the Atticus Scott, the richest man in the continent pay for my Liam's treatment?" I whispered, more to myself than her.
"I don't know about that, dear," the woman said softly. "But the account is paid. Dr. Vance is prepping for surgery right now. It's all covered."
Paid. Covered. Why?
Then it hit me, did I sell myself for nothing?!.
My carefully constructed dam of numbness cracked. The guilt, the shame, the sheer exhaustion of the last 24 hours surged. I felt myself sway.
I needed air. I needed… Liam. Now. To see him before surgery. To anchor myself.
Blindly, I turned away from the desk, mumbling thanks I didn't feel. I stumbled towards the elevators, towards the ICU. Towards Room 314. My hell.
I pushed open the door to Liam's room.
And froze.
He was there, still unconscious, prepped for surgery, surrounded by more machines. But he wasn't alone.
People were standing with him. Three figures radiating wealth. A man, tall and stern in a tailored charcoal suit. A woman beside him was elegant, her face a mask of controlled disgust.
And a younger man, maybe early thirties, with Liam's eyes but harder, watching me with open disdain.
They turned as one. Six eyes pinned me to the spot. The air was filled instantly with hostility.
Their gazes swept over me – they saw my damp, hastily pulled-back hair (still smelling of cheap soap from the frantic shower), my old jeans and worn band t-shirt, my red-rimmed eyes, the sheer, broken exhaustion I couldn't hide.
I saw it in their faces: the judgment. The dismissal. The confirmation of every snobbish assumption people had ever said about me.
I blicked. I wasn't in the mood to play nice. "Who the hell are you?" I asked very irritated.
"Miss James," the older man started. "I'm Henry Throne-Scott. Liam's father"
"Scott? Like Atticus Scott people " I asked him bluntly.
"Atticus Scott is Liam's grandfather"
I couldn't speak. My throat closed. My eyes darted to Liam. My anchor. My reason.
I looked at the strangers in front of me and I didn't believe them one bit.
"That's not possible. We eat ramen and hand wash our underwear. He's owning Dex 20 bucks. How is he the grandson of THE Atticus Scott!"
I looked at Liam. Seeing him surrounded by them, these imposters that was lying except… they swooped in and paid the bill I had sold my soul for… it was too much.
The cracks in me widened. I felt the scream building in my chest, the tears threatening to spill.
Don't fall apart. Not here. Not in front of them.
The older lady's eyes lingered on my left hand. On Liam's engagement ring. Her lips thinned into this line of pure contempt.
"I'm Secretary Maya. Mr Throne-Scott was informed of Liam's… situation. Naturally, the family stepped in. He will receive the best care. The Appropriate care." The emphasis was subtle but the blow wasn't.
He was Atticus Scott grandson. HE WAS ATTICUS SCOTT'S GRANDSON.
The younger man snorted softly. "Where have you been? It took you long enough to show up. You left my cousin unattended"
The accusation hung in the air. Where had I been while they were handling things?
I was busy selling myself to the highest fucking bidder!
The dam burst. Not with sobs, but with a terrifying laughter that echoed in the entire room.
My vision blurred. The room narrowed to Liam's pale face, the cold stares of his family, and the crushing, unbearable weight of what I had done. For nothing.
Worse than nothing. I had destroyed something inside myself for a sacrifice that wasn't needed.
"Are you alright, Ms. James?"
I laughed harder. "Yes. Why won't I be? My fiance is Atticus Scott's grandson"
And just like that my laughter turned into sobs.
I took a stumbling step back, away from Liam, away from them, away from the suffocating reality that my nightmare had just gotten infinitely worse.
I turned and fled the room.