The media frenzy was relentless. Photos of the cruise party plastered everywhere: fireworks illuminating the sea, dozens of young models, celebrities dancing in debauched circles. In a single morning, I scrolled through endless explosive headlines.
Catherine Delgado was furious. Rumor had it she'd smashed half the antique porcelain collection at the main estate.
Evan, knowing he couldn't escape the storm, took Bonnie and went into hiding. As usual, he left me to clean up his mess.
Right on cue, the hospital room door swung open. Mr. Porter stepped inside.
"The Elder Mrs. Delgado has spoken," the butler announced. "The Young Master is at fault, but you cannot shirk blame. Proceed to the Ancestral Hall immediately for discipline."
Respectful tone. Icy detachment. Pure Delgado.
I gripped the bedsheets, a bitter smile touching my lips.
The Delgados claimed to be a century-old aristocracy, binding its members with frighteningly strict rules. Yet those rules never restrained Evan. They were a noose reserved only for me.
Over a decade of grinding suppression had left me exhausted.
But this time, I was done.