They didn’t see the monitors. They didn’t see the pale, bruised skin of my face. They only saw an inconvenience.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t cry. I didn’t try to explain the severity of my injuries or beg for their sympathy. The time for seeking their love was officially over.
I looked down at the legal document resting on the tray. With a steady hand, ignoring the searing pain in my side, I pressed the fountain pen into the paper and signed my name. The signature was bold, aggressive, and entirely final.
My father finally noticed the woman in the sharp suit standing beside my bed. He frowned, pointing a finger at Naomi.
“Who is that?” he demanded, his voice dropping into the authoritative tone he only used when he wanted to intimidate someone. “Is she an insurance lawyer? Because if she’s trying to get you to sign a lowball settlement for the car crash, don’t do it. We can sue the other driver for millions. Lily needs a new wardrobe for her trip to Paris.”
Naomi smoothly pulled the document from under my pen. She pulled a notary stamp from her briefcase and stamped the paper with a heavy, satisfying thud.
