The way her answers arrived late, after she stole a glance at Viven’s face like she needed permission to be honest.
“Why did you keep saying she couldn’t drink water?” Fernando asked, voice rising. “Why did you say plain water was dangerous?”
Viven exhaled, irritated now. The softness was thinning.
“Because it upset her stomach,” Viven said. “Because she’s delicate. Because I’m the only one who’s been here doing the work while you…”
“While I trusted you,” Fernando cut in, and the pain in his voice turned poisonous. “While I let you stand between me and my child.”
Elena’s throat bobbed.
Her eyes darted from Fernando to Viven again, fast as a bruise blooming.
That movement was a confession without words.
Immani stepped closer to the wheelchair, gentle as a shield.
“She was getting weaker,” Immani said, and her voice finally cracked. Not from fear, but fury. “And Viven acted like it was normal. Like Elena’s body was just giving up.”
Immani pointed at the orange juice.
“But people don’t collapse on a schedule unless someone is writing it.”
Viven’s eyes hardened. “You’re poisoning him against me.”
“No,” Immani replied. “You did that all by yourself.”
Fernando grabbed his phone with shaking hands.
“Give me the clinic name,” he said. “Now. Or I call an ambulance, the police, everyone. We test everything in this house. We test her blood. We test that powder. We test you.”
For the first time, Viven’s smile truly failed.
A beat of silence passed, thin and electric.
Elena whispered, barely audible, “Please don’t leave me alone with her.”
Something inside Fernando broke cleanly in two.
The man who had believed.
And the father who would never forgive himself for it.
Fernando didn’t answer with words at first.
He answered with his body.
He stepped between Elena’s wheelchair and Viven, as if one stance could block months of neglect. His shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes glassy with pain that had finally turned into purpose.
Immani lowered herself beside Elena, careful and slow.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Look at me, Elena. Just me.”
Elena’s fingers trembled around the armrest. Her gaze flicked toward Viven automatically, trained, then snapped back like she hated herself for it.
Immani lifted Elena’s blanket just enough to reveal her foot, pale against the dark fabric.
“Can you feel me here?” Immani asked, brushing two fingers lightly over Elena’s sock.
Elena nodded barely.