Ethan smirked. “What she earns in a month, I spend in one dinner.”
This time, the laughter felt hollow.
Because Lily wasn’t looking down anymore.
She was looking straight at him.
“If it’s impossible for you to walk,” she said quietly, “then your offer isn’t real. It’s just a joke to humiliate us.”
The air shifted instantly.
Ethan blinked, thrown off. No one spoke to him like that—least of all a child.
“My grandmother used to say,” Lily continued calmly, “that rich people buy expensive things to prove they can, not because they need them.”
The men shifted uncomfortably.
“My grandmother was a healer. Grace Bennett.”
The name hit like a spark.
Mark quickly searched his phone. His expression changed. “There are articles… people said she healed paralysis…”
“Stories,” Ethan dismissed, though his tone lacked certainty.
“She never charged anyone,” Lily said. “She helped because she cared.”
She explained how her grandmother had taught her since she was small—how to understand the body, how to feel what couldn’t be seen, how to listen beyond words.
Then she stepped closer to Ethan.
“You don’t really want to heal,” she said softly. “You want to stay a victim so you can justify how you treat people.”
Silence.