“Have you forgotten who brought you into this territory’s infirmary?” he said sharply. “Without me, you’d still be in some remote settlement treating injured farmers and rogues. Don’t overestimate yourself.”
The words cut deep.
For a brief moment, it felt like something lodged in her throat.
But she forced herself to remain calm.
“Then prove it,” she replied coolly. “Sign. Let’s see whether I ever need you.”
Her defiance seemed to dissolve his lingering doubts.
With a faint scoff, he grabbed the pen.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll watch how long this independence lasts.”
He signed his name in one swift stroke.
The sound of pen against paper felt louder than it should have.
Adriana watched the ink settle.
A quiet sense of relief spread through her chest.
Carefully, she folded the document and slipped it into her pocket as though it were something precious.
She didn’t say the words aloud, but they echoed in her mind.
This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.
That signature wasn’t an apology.
It was her release.
---
The next morning, Adriana rose before dawn.
The letter was still in her coat pocket, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something close to lightness.