A Bitter Warning

Alaric's brief moment of consciousness lasted only a few fleeting seconds. The massive strain of the near-fatal aneurysm and his long-standing chronic illness dragged him back under the surface. His eyelids fluttered, shutting out the glaring hospital lights, and the rigid tension in his muscles dissolved into the mattress. He slipped into a peaceful, natural sleep. The ragged gasping that had plagued him for hours vanished, replaced by a steady, rhythmic breathing that filled the quiet room.

Lucius Pratt stood motionless beside the bed. His hands gripped the cold metal of the bedrail so hard his knuckles turned a stark white. He stared at the medical monitors in trembling disbelief. The erratic, chaotic lines had smoothed into healthy, stable waves. The aneurysm, which just minutes ago threatened to rupture and claim the esteemed artist's life, had stabilized. It defied scientific explanation.

Lucius swallowed hard, fighting to keep his composure. He needed to protect his own reputation. If Alaric died later, the hospital would still face the wrath of the powerful Hayes family. He turned toward Tobias Reed. The anxious assistant hovered near the foot of the bed, his eyes darting between Alaric’s resting face and the pulsing monitors.

"Is Mr. Hayes alright?" Tobias asked, his voice shaking with a mix of hope and lingering dread. "Did that girl actually cure him?"

Lucius quickly masked his profound shock behind a veil of professional gravity. He adjusted his white coat and cleared his throat. "He is stable for now," Lucius said, his tone serious and measured. He stepped aside and gestured toward Alaric's exposed skin. "Look here."

Tobias stepped closer. He followed the director's pointing finger and saw precise, faint red acupuncture marks dotting Alaric’s pale chest and temples.

"The young girl managed to suppress the acute crisis," Lucius explained, carefully shifting the ultimate responsibility away from his medical staff. "But his heart remains extremely weak. This stabilization is only temporary. At this rate, without the precise follow-up treatment, he may only have a few months to live. His heart will inevitably fail."

Tobias stared at the faint marks, panic flaring anew in his chest. "Then we need to treat him! We cannot wait!"

"We cannot replicate what she did," Lucius said, shaking his head. "Only the young girl from the Vance family who performed this miraculous procedure holds the key to fully curing his chronic condition. You must find her."

Tobias grasped this desperate sliver of hope. He did not know the Vance family, as he was not native to Oakmont City, but he knew how to mobilize resources. He pulled out his phone, turned on his heel, and walked briskly out into the busy hospital hallway. He barked urgent orders into the receiver, initiating a massive, city-wide search for Marcella Vance.

Meanwhile, a heavy silence loomed over the Vance residence.

Marcella pushed through the heavy double doors and stepped into the polished marble foyer. The moment her foot touched the floor, a shrill voice tore through the quiet house.

"Where did you go?"

Sylvia stood in the center of the spacious living room, her face twisted in ugly rage. She glared at Marcella, her eyes burning with resentment. "You just got out of the juvenile detention center! Do you want to go back in? Is that what you want?"

Marcella paused in the entryway. The residual poison in her veins weighed heavily on her muscles. Her limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and a dull ache throbbed in her joints from the effort she exerted at the hospital. She looked at the angry woman before her.

"What did I do to deserve such a continuous embarrassment in my family?" Sylvia screamed, taking an aggressive step forward. She viewed Marcella as nothing more than a stain on her pristine social image. She reached over to the nearby console table and grabbed a thick, heavy hardcover book. Her fingers dug into the spine. "You ruin everything you touch!"

Without any warning, Sylvia hurled the heavy book directly at Marcella’s face.

Marcella saw the projectile flying through the air. Her sharp, seasoned instincts screamed at her to step aside, but the lingering toxins in her system rebelled. Her slowed reflexes failed her. She could not move her heavy limbs in time.

*Smack.*

The thick edge of the hardcover book struck Marcella right across the cheekbone. The harsh impact echoed sharply in the foyer. The book dropped to the marble floor with a heavy thud, its pages crinkling.

A sharp sting radiated across Marcella's cheek, but she did not flinch. She did not cry out or raise a hand to soothe the pain. She stood there in silence. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet Sylvia’s. Her eyes were icy, devoid of any fear, warmth, or submission.

Sylvia ignored the chilling stare. She pointed a trembling, manicured finger toward the sweeping staircase. "Lock yourself in your room! We have a high-society art exhibition to attend tomorrow. You will study your traditional painting knowledge right now so you do not make a fool of us in public. If you embarrass me in front of those people, you will regret ever coming back to this house!"

At that exact moment, the soft clinking of china sounded from the hallway. Odette gracefully entered the living room, carrying a silver tray bearing a steaming cup of fresh lemon tea. She wore a soft, practiced smile, playing the part of the perfect, caring daughter to flawless perfection.

"Mom, please calm down," Odette said, her voice sweet and soothing. She glided across the room and carefully placed the tray on the coffee table. She handed the cup to Sylvia with elegant, measured movements. "I brewed some lemon tea to soothe your throat. Don't hurt your own health by losing your temper over this."

Odette then turned to Marcella, her tone shifting to one of gentle reprimand. "Marcella, you just got back. It is normal for Mom to be upset. You should stay out of her sight for a while. Go upstairs and read some books to improve your mind."

Sylvia took the teacup, her demeanor softening the instant she looked at Odette. She doted on the girl, her eyes filling with warm affection. "Odette, you are always so obedient."

Sylvia took a sip of the tea and then shot another look of pure disgust at Marcella. "I worried sick about her, and look at her! She learned nothing! Look at you, Odette. Your academic success is amazing. You have the approval of all your art teachers, and you have so many friends. You are the center of attention everywhere you go."

Sylvia sneered at Marcella. "I wish I had left you in the detention center forever. If you two were not twins, I would think you were switched at birth!"

Hearing those cruel words, Marcella felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest. It was a lingering trace of deep sadness, a ghostly echo from the original host's residual emotions. The old Marcella had craved her mother's love and felt devastated by this constant rejection.

But Marcella’s own soul remained unmoved.

Having experienced real, unconditional family love with her brothers and teachers in her past life, she recognized Sylvia's superficiality for exactly what it was. Sylvia did not know how to love. She only knew how to use people to elevate her own status.

Marcella looked past Sylvia and focused on Odette. Odette stood behind their mother, a smug, condescending smile playing on her lips. She looked at Marcella as if viewing a defeated enemy, relishing in her superior standing in the household.

Marcella did not show an ounce of the frustration or anger they expected. Instead, a sharp, mocking grin spread across her face.

"Do you truly believe you are impressive just because you learned a few cheap tricks to please people?" Marcella asked, her voice calm but cutting like a blade.

Odette's perfect, sweet facade cracked. Her smile faltered, and her expression instantly turned stiff and aloof. "What do you mean?"

Marcella ignored Odette's defensive tone and shifted her piercing gaze to Sylvia. She looked at the older woman with a mix of amusement and cold clarity. Then, she looked back at Odette.

"Look at her," Marcella said, gesturing slightly toward Sylvia. "Ask yourself if she actually loves you. She does not. She merely views you as a valuable tool. You are nothing more than an accessory she uses to brag to her wealthy friends in her social circle."

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Sylvia shrieked, her face flushing red with fresh fury. The accusation hit too close to home.

Marcella paid no attention to Sylvia's outburst. She kept her eyes locked on Odette. The smugness had vanished from Odette's face, replaced by a flicker of genuine insecurity.

Marcella let out a soft scoff, her eyes filled with genuine pity. "Other children receive unconditional love from their mothers without having to do anything at all. But you? You have to exhaust yourself, putting in endless effort just to trick her into loving you."

Marcella took a step toward the stairs, her icy gaze lingering on Odette one last time. "The moment you lose your usefulness, or the second you fail to meet her high expectations, she will cast you aside with the exact same cruelty she shows to me. You should consider if all this effort is actually worth it."

Without waiting for a response from either of them, Marcella turned her back. She walked calmly up the sweeping staircase, her footsteps silent against the carpet, heading straight to her room.

She left the living room suffocating in a tense, heavy silence. Odette stood frozen in the middle of the floor. The sweet, caring mask she wore had shattered. She stared blankly at the empty staircase. As Marcella's words echoed in her mind, chipping away at her carefully crafted sense of security, Odette's face twisted in sudden, dark bitterness.