At We Care Private Hospital.
"You should have gotten a lawyer, not a doctor!" Mariah snapped weakly.
Selene narrowed her eyes, "No. I should have called a detective to find the location of the kittens."
"Son of a witch," Mariah cursed.
She was paler by now. There was a small smudge of red under her nose, and with her every step, she seemed weaker.
Selene firmly held her shoulders, "I am no son, Mariah." She sighed, trying to distract herself from the sight of Mariah's handkerchief, completely stained red. It was all so confusing.
So… frightening.
'What if Bianca is serious this time?'
'What if she wants to shatter everything I have…'
'Again.'
Mariah seemed upset that Selene wasn't taking her advice to do something else seriously. But she was also not in a state to speak. Her gaze became distant, and if Selene was not holding her, Mariah knew she would have fallen.
'It's fine.'
Selene told herself.
'I have money now. I can afford the best doctors, the best lawyers. And as terrible as Bianca had been… she is no criminal.'
'Right?'
They soon reached the reception desk.
There, a woman was applying lip gloss with the intense focus of someone who was preparing to launch a rocket ship. In one hand, she held the lip gloss, and in her other hand, she lazily held the phone.
"Oh, yes, Madam Sinclair. I understand completely," the receptionist said into the phone, her voice sugary sweet enough to cause dental trauma.
Selene's stomach dropped.
'What the hell is she doing now?'
At once, Selene's mind spiraled back to all the disasters Bianca had stitched into her life.
This was the woman who once leaked Selene's most horrifying baby pictures—chubby cheeks, spaghetti-smeared face, a tiara made of toilet paper rolls—straight into the school's group chat.
This was the woman who left Selene stranded at the checkout counter of a luxury mall, bags in hand, while Bianca "ran to the restroom"—and never returned, leaving a thirteen-year-old Selene staring at a dozen angry adults, and holding a bill of thousands of dollars that she could not pay from her pocket money!
Or how, when Selene had finally worked up the courage to confess her feelings to her longtime crush, Bianca got there first. She kissed him right as Selene reached the locker room.
And Selene? She ran away crying.
Later, Bianca laughed so sweetly as she said, "Please don't take it to heart. I was only teaching you a lesson about love. That hot kid would have NEVER dated you anyway."
Selene had glared at Bianca and shouted, "Pedophile!" every time she saw her for the next week. The result? She was kicked out of the house once again!
Selene never found out if that handsome boy liked her.
She never asked anyone out ever again.
Her hand clenched into a fist so tight her nails bit into her palm as Selene whispered, 'No. NOT this time, Bianca. I am DONE letting you ruin everything!'
Selene forced her voice to be steady and coldly informed the receptionist, "My nanny has a serious situation. She has been bleeding a lot and requires emergency care."
The receptionist twirled her lip gloss, unimpressed.
"And?" She drawled, popping a bubble gum candy into her mouth as she added, "Your family already gave orders. You're... not exactly high priority, sweetie."
A man behind them snorted.
Another jeered, "Heard her daddy cut her off. Now she's just a pretty face and a pile of debt! And she STILL thinks she can barge into a hospital like this one?
"Bet she's hoping to trade that nanny for a discount on her next meal," someone else laughed.
Selene's hands tightened around Mariah's. Her blood was boiling from sheer, blinding fury. This was an emergency. Mariah might be dying. And they were treating it like a soap opera sideshow.
She slammed her palm against the counter again, making the receptionist jump.
Someone clapped mockingly.
Another guy whistled.
The receptionist smirked, "You won't look pretty when our security guards drag you out of here, miss. Don't even think about making a scene."
Selene's lips twitched.
"This hospital," she said coldly, "is not owned by the Sinclairs. Do you really think just because they say something, you're under their protection?"
"Actually," an arrogant, proud voice boomed across the lobby.
Dean Harrison Moore strolled in, hands tucked smugly behind his back, belly leading the way. "Miss Sinclair," he drawled, "Allow me to remind you: the Sinclairs have businesses and business partners in EVERY significant sector of the city."
He smiled.
It was the smile of a man who enjoyed stepping on broken things.
"In other words," he said, "everything—and everyone—in this building... dances when they pull the strings."
Selene's gaze darkened.
The Dean leaned over the counter, his voice dripping with fake sympathy as he looked at Mariah and mumbled, "And here you are, helping a criminal. Seems like you will both rot together in a cell. How romantic."
Selene inhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.
She shifted Mariah's weight with one hand, casually brushing blood off her sleeve with the other—like someone flicking lint off a tailored suit.
When a nurse nearby yawned and muttered, "Should've just called a NUber to the morgue,"
Selene finally smiled.
A smile cold enough to freeze fire.
Her knuckles loosened. Her grip on the moment sharpened.
They wanted the broke heiress?
Fine.
'Then you'll get her. All of her. Plus a few billion dollars' worth of backup.'
The Dean barked at the uneasy-looking security guards a few feet away.
"What the hell are you doing just standing there?! Get over here now and make sure these beggars are thrown out!"
They sighed helplessly and moved toward Selene and Mariah.