When she finally returned to the hospital, her steps were heavy, her mind clouded with the events of the evening. She never thought she'd have to confront her father here—not in the one place that had become her fragile sanctuary.
But as soon as she entered the room, she saw him by the window, his back to her, the light from the city casting shadows across the walls. His presence was imposing, and the air felt unnaturally heavy, thick with an unspoken storm. Grace froze, dread curling in her stomach like a coiled snake. exhaustion dragging at her bones, she didn't expect to find her father waiting.
He didn't turn to face her right away. Instead, his voice came, low and controlled, cutting through the silence.
"Do you know what you've done?" His voice was eerily calm.
Grace's heart pounded. "Please. Let's talk outside."
Her father turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes carried an intensity that made her chest tighten."Answer me, Grace." His voice snapped like a whip, making her flinch. "Do you know what you've done wrong?"
"I—I couldn't go to the party," she stammered. "I had to stay—"
Before she could finish, her father crossed the room in three swift steps, yanking her by the hair. The sharp sting made her gasp."Enough." His voice cut her off, firm and unwavering. He stepped closer, each stride deliberate, his eyes fixed on her like a predator sizing up prey.
"You bitch," he spat, dragging her out of the hospital room. "You ruined everything."
"Do you have any idea how much damage you've caused? Do you even comprehend the opportunity you squandered tonight? Or do you think your excuses make any of this acceptable?"
Grace's throat tightened, and she felt a lump forming, threatening to choke her words. "I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to," he repeated, mockingly, his lips curling in contempt. "That's all you ever say. Do you think intentions matter in a world like this? Do you think anyone cares why you failed, Grace? Failure is still failure."
The weight of his words settled heavily in the room, pressing down on Grace's shoulders. Her breath quickened, but she refused to look away, even as fear gnawed at the edges of her composure.
"This isn't about you," he continued, his voice dropping to a lower, colder tone. "This is about us. Everything I've worked for, everything I've built. And tonight, you couldn't even do the one thing I asked of you."
Grace's hands trembled, and her nails dug into her palms. She wanted to shout, to explain, to defend herself, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Nothing she said would change the disappointment etched into his face.
"I stayed because—" She paused, forcing herself to meet his gaze despite the heaviness in her chest. "Because she's dying. And she needed me."
Grace struggled, her breath coming in sharp pants as he pulled her into his office. Inside, the polished mahogany model of a city—his empire—sat on the table, gleaming under the dim light. He shoved her forward until she was staring directly at it.
"Look at this." His voice was eerily soft now. "I have worked my entire life for this. For you. But you and your sick mother—" His fingers dug into his temple. "You're ruining everything."
Grace trembled, her breath shallow. "Please, don't do this here."
"Lesson time." His tone was final.
She knew what that meant.
Swallowing the sob rising in her throat, Grace lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing her trembling legs. The cane whistled through the air before landing with a sharp crack against her skin. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to cry out. With each strike, he spoke, his voice low and measured.
"You will go to Vivianne."
Crack.
"You will apologize."
Crack.
"You will beg her to accept you back."
Crack.
She nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak without the tears in her throat betraying her.Tears slipped down Grace's face, but she did not break. Not yet. Not while she still had to survive.
"Good," he said after a moment, his tone softer but no less menacing. "Don't disappoint me again."
He threw the stick away and Grace felt a sigh of relief.