Elena’s eyes were fixed on Viven now, wide and fearful, like she was waiting for the punishment that came after truth.
Fernando felt heat rise into anger, and underneath it, something worse.
Doubt.
“Viven,” Fernando said slowly. “What is she talking about?”
Viven’s smile stayed calm, practiced, compassionate. Compassion like a costume.
“Fernando,” she said, voice smooth as satin. “Your staff has been stressed. They hear things, they imagine things. Elena is fragile. You know that. This is cruel.”
Immani made a sound, half laugh and half pain.
“Look at her,” Immani said, nodding toward Elena. “And it isn’t a plea. It’s a command. She’s terrified.”
Viven’s eyes flashed sharp and cold.
“Elena is delicate,” Viven snapped, and the mask slipped just enough to reveal what lived underneath.
Control.
Possession.
A quiet cruelty dressed in silk.
Fernando’s stomach dropped.
He turned to his daughter, then really turned, like a man seeing his child for the first time in months.
“Elena,” he said softly, voice cracking. “Sweetheart… what did she give you?”
Elena’s lips parted. No sound came out at first, only a strangled breath.
Her gaze darted to Viven.
That single reflex said everything.
Fernando’s voice broke. “Elena, please.”
Elena stared at her father, and in the space between her fear and his desperate love, something shifted.
“Orange,” Elena whispered. “She said… I had to finish it.”
The room went silent, the kind of silence that swallowed denial whole.
Fernando stared at Viven.
And for the first time, Viven didn’t look like a savior.
She looked like a storm that had been hiding behind clear skies.
Fernando’s doubt flared into anger so fast it made his hands shake.
“Name the doctor, Viven,” he demanded. “Names. Records. Proof.”
Viven’s answers came soft and slippery.
“I don’t remember,” she said lightly, the way people speak when they expect the world to forgive them. “There were so many consultations. So much paperwork.”
Immani didn’t blink.
“Funny,” Immani murmured, “because I’ve never seen a single prescription. Not one appointment card, not one report. Just you… and a glass of orange juice… and a new rule every day.”
Fernando’s eyes snapped to Elena.
He watched the habits he’d ignored for months.
The way Elena flinched when Viven shifted her weight.
The way her fingers tightened around the armrest whenever Viven spoke.