He was right. Even the smallest cut made me cry. My pain tolerance was embarrassingly low.
But no physical pain could compare to what I felt inside.
Raphael exhaled, softening his tone. "I'll call the nurse. Let’s have them remove it properly, and then I’ll take you home, alright? I’ll talk to my parents again. You don’t have to worry about anything."
I said nothing.
Once I was discharged, we sat in the backseat of the car as his driver took us away from the hospital. Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
And then, Raphael casually asked, breaking the silence, "Would you accompany me to the Moreau Group Anniversary banquet next week?"
I remained silent, my gaze fixed outside the window, seething at how effortlessly he had orchestrated everything—down to inviting me to witness my own ruin without a shred of shame.
Mistaking my silence for lingering resentment over the ‘accident,’ he reached for my hand, his voice laced with sincerity. "I want to introduce you properly. Besides, that night marks my official announcement as the heir.
"I promise, they won’t lay a finger on you again. Not even a touch. This is our moment, Nadine. We’ll show everyone how serious we are, okay?"