I opened my mouth, but Lorenz’s voice rang, low and commanding, brushing Emily’s hair back as if claiming her entirely. “Make sure she’s taken care of immediately.”
The waiter froze, unsure how to respond. I forced a small, bitter smile. “I’m fine. Please—help her first.”
Lorenz shot me a sharp, dismissive glance. “Toni, if you’re hurt, deal with it. Just don’t make a scene,” he said, his tone cold, predatory.
I pressed my lips together, nodding. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He turned back to Emily, guiding her toward the waiting ambulance, his every movement protective, instinctive. Gritte huffed nearby, tail flicking in irritation. “Great. Now our night’s ruined,” she muttered, ignoring me entirely.
Once they disappeared into the night, I allowed myself to feel the sting of the burns. The waiter returned with a cold compress, offering it gently. “Here, ma’am. This should help.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing the cloth to my skin. In that moment, a vow formed in my chest, as cold and sharp as the iron in my veins: I will never be ignored again.
I took a taxi to the hospital, each bump on the road reminding me of the sparks that had burned me. The ER doctor cleaned my arm carefully. “You’re lucky. It’s superficial. A few days, and it’ll heal.”
“Thanks,” I said, but overheard nurses whispering nearby. “Did you hear? Mr. Reyes booked an entire floor for Emily, brought in specialists.”
A bitter smile crept onto my face. Never once had he done anything like that for me, even when I had been his mate in all but name.
I handed over my personal card after he had blocked my access, the money from my own hard work. Years of reliance on his alpha provisioning had left me vulnerable—but now, I realized how strong I could be on my own.
Bandaged and resolute, I returned to the manor, determined to avoid Lorenz and Emily, who would spend the night at the hospital. Staff glanced at my arm with concern, but I waved them off. “It’s minor. Don’t worry, and I apologize for the late hour.”
The next morning, a soft chime announced the acceptance email from the Italian Arts Academy. My heart raced with excitement and hunger for independence. I grabbed my art supplies, declining the driver’s offer for a ride. Freedom was intoxicating.