And in that moment, something inside me hardened—a vow forming quietly but irrevocably.
I will never be invisible again.
I took a taxi to the hospital myself. Every jolt of the road reminded me of the sparks. The ER doctor cleaned and dressed the burn carefully.
“You’re fortunate,” he said. “It’s superficial. It’ll heal quickly.”
“Thank you,” I replied—just as I overheard nurses murmuring nearby.
“Did you hear? Don Corell booked an entire floor for her. Specialists, private staff—the works.”
A bitter smile touched my lips.
He had never done anything like that for me. Not once.
I paid using my own card—the money I had earned myself. Years of dependence had left me vulnerable, but now I saw the truth clearly: I didn’t need him to survive.
Bandaged and resolute, I returned to the manor. Zaldy and Maria would be spending the night at the hospital. Staff glanced at my arm with concern, but I waved them off.
“It’s nothing serious. I’m sorry for the late hour.”
The next morning, an email chimed softly on my phone.
Acceptance Letter — Italian Arts Academy
My pulse quickened. Freedom surged through me. I grabbed my art supplies and declined the driver’s offer. I wanted to move under my own power.