The ward door swung open. An elegant middle-aged woman rushed to my bedside, taking my hand in her warm grasp.
"Child, you're awake?"
"Thank you. Thank you *so much* for saving my daughter."
"Name your price. Anything you want, I will—"
My fingers curled against the sheets. I shook my head gently.
"I saved her to return a favor. Thank you for funding my education."
The polite socialite mask on her face slipped. Genuine softness replaced it.
"Caroline is fine. She's been wanting to see you for days," she said quietly. "I'll send her in to thank you personally."
My chest tightened. I wanted to refuse, but she was already out the door.
Moments later, Caroline Sawyer walked in.
She marched to the bedside, gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. Only after confirming I was in one piece did she set her jaw.
"Who told you to save me?"
She sat sullenly in the chair, posture rigid, shoulders tight.
"Don't you hate me? Why bother?"
"Just to repay a debt?" Her tone turned brittle. "There's no need. The money used to fund you lot isn't even enough to buy me a handbag."
She glanced at me, expecting anger.
Instead, she found my expression calm. Devoid of humiliation.
It seemed to throw her off balance.
"What do you want?" she added, voice dropping lower. "I can give you anything."
"I do want one thing," I said softly.
Caroline looked up. A flicker of anticipation crossed her eyes.
I held her gaze, voice serious.
"Can we call a truce? Let's just be ordinary classmates and get along. Okay?"
Her complexion shifted—first a flush of embarrassment, then a dark shadow of annoyance. She stood abruptly.
"When did I ever—"
She cut herself off.
"Forget it. Whatever."
She stomped her foot and turned to leave, radiating frustration with every step.
......
I never expected to see my younger brother in the hospital. I hadn't seen him in over a year.
He wore a caregiver's uniform, scrubbing the floor near an elderly patient's bed. A lame leg dragged behind him as he moved. Disheveled. Broken.
The sight triggered a memory from my previous life. At this exact time back then, I had been in his shoes—hauling goods in a warehouse, breaking my back to pay for Jasmine McLaughlin's medical bills.
Back in the village, neighbors had accused us of moral corruption. They broke my leg and torched our home, forcing us to flee.