Chapter 6

Vivian's POV

As soon as I coughed once, someone kicked me hard in the lower back.

"If you're gonna die, go die somewhere else! Don't spread your tuberculosis to us!"

I was kicked into the iron bars, my bones making a teeth-grinding crisp sound.

The detention cell was cold and damp with no blankets, only a large communal bunk that reeked of mildew.

Because I was classified as a serious offender, I was assigned to the high-security unit where the wind blew hardest.

I curled up on the cement floor. Cold sweat soaked through my thin prison uniform, then quickly formed cold, damp patches stuck to my skin.

"Help..."

I desperately pounded on the iron door, my fingernails scraping harsh sounds against the door panel.

"I need a doctor... I have lung cancer... give me medicine..."

The on-duty prison doctor slowly walked over.

He looked at me through the bars, holding a file in his hand.

"Stop acting."

The doctor closed the file, his eyes full of contempt.

"It says clearly in your file: long-term substance abuse, suspected drug withdrawal."

"I don't do drugs... I have cancer..."

Trembling, I reached through the bars, fingers straining for his white coat.

"Please... just give me the pills"

"Everyone in here claiming to be terminally ill is just fishing for drugs."

The doctor stepped back, avoiding my hand as if it were contaminated.

He casually pulled two white fever pills from his pocket and tossed them through the bars.

The pills rolled across the dusty cement floor.

"Take them and sleep quietly. Make any more noise and we'll put you in restraints."

The doctor turned and walked away, his leather shoes making hollow, cold sounds on the floor.

I stared at those two useless fever pills on the ground.

So in Adrian's eyes, even my dying cries for help were just drug withdrawal symptoms seeking sympathy.

He not only sent me to prison but also sealed off all my paths to survival.

I picked up the pills and swallowed them dry.

Even if they were foul, even if they were spoiled, they were all I could get to eat.

The wall-mounted TV at the end of the corridor flickered on.

It was the seven o'clock legal news program, the only entertainment allowed for inmates.

The screen cut to a ballroom inside the manor.

Dazzling lights. A towering champagne fountain.

Lorelei stood in a haute couture gown under the spotlight, every inch a princess.

A caption scrolled beneath: Charity Gala Headlined by Piano Prodigy Lorelei.

Adrian stood beside her in a black suit, noble and aloof.

"Regarding this recent controversy,"

Lorelei spoke into countless microphones, her eyes reddening.

"I'm truly heartbroken. I never imagined my sister Vivian would sell my score to competitors for money, then turn around and accuse me of plagiarism."

She wiped away nonexistent tears from the corners of her eyes.

"But I'm still willing to forgive her. After all, she's my sister."

Camera flashes went crazy.

A reporter shoved a microphone in front of Adrian:

"Mr. Hayes, we heard you personally reported your ex-wife to the police. Does this represent the Hayes Group's position on this matter?"

Adrian faced the cameras, his expression carved from ice.

"Hayes Group absolutely will not tolerate any commercial fraud, regardless of who the suspect is."

He paused, his voice drilling into my frozen ears through the TV speakers.

"Sending her in is for her own good. To sober up. To break habits she never should have formed."

The venue erupted in applause.

The screen flooded with comments: "Mr. Hayes is a man of principle." "Lorelei deserves everything."

I stared at that man on the screen.

He probably thought that locking me up for a week, letting me suffer a little...

Would make me fall back in line like before, kneeling at his feet begging for mercy.

He was wrong about one thing.

Dead people don't beg for mercy.

Lights out sounded.

I leaned against the cold wall. Something warm trickled from my nostrils and the corners of my mouth, dripping onto the collar of my prison uniform.

I could feel life slowly draining from this broken shell.

I wasn't afraid of death.

I was only afraid I wouldn't rest in the sea after I died.