Chapter 24

I don’t know what time I went to bed, crawling under the covers, too exhausted to eat or shower, psychologically drained from fighting the storm of my dad’s hatred.

All I could do was stay by his side, caring and loving, until he believed in me again.

I woke to my phone ringing. An unknown number flashed on the screen, jolting me back to life.

“Hello?” I mumbled, still groggy, summoning all my strength to get up.

“Emily? It’s Marcos. You okay?” His familiar, friendly voice snapped me awake. I’d forgotten about the car!

“Hi. I… I’m sorry, I completely forgot to call you to pick up the car,” I said quickly, throwing off the covers and standing. “I’ll bring it now, don’t worry.”

“Hey, hey, Emily!” he shouted to stop me. “No need. I’ll come by and get it. Calm down,” he said, making me take a deep breath and sit on the edge of the bed. “See you soon.”

I tossed my phone on the bed and tried to make my brain function calmly.

The morning calm was no longer a reality in São Fernando.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and brushed my teeth before checking my face in the mirror. I wanted to know where that calm, joyful girl had gone. My eyes were almost as sad as my dad’s last night, and just thinking about our conversation made it worse.

A distant honk snapped me back, and I ran through the hallway and down the stairs to not keep him waiting too long. I’d already inconvenienced him enough.

My feet hit something sticky on one of the steps, turning everything into a cascade of disasters. I slipped and tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on a whiskey bottle.

After processing what happened, I cautiously lifted my torso off the floor, feeling a sharp pain in my right arm.

“Are you okay?” my dad appeared, shouting. Damn it! “My God, don’t move!” he said, panicking. “I’ll grab something to put on it.”

He ran to the kitchen as I tried to assess my arm.

“Emy?” Marcos’ voice came through the door seconds before he burst in. “Emily! My God, what happened?” he yelled, rushing to my side.

This was the last thing I needed. It was bad enough he’d helped me with my nose the other day, and now this?

“It was nothing…” I started to explain, but my dad cut me off.

“Here, put this on,” he said, holding out a towel.

“Don’t touch her!” Marcos growled like a dog facing a threat. “You’ve done enough—breaking her nose and now this? We’re leaving!” he said quickly, not giving either of us time to explain.

He carried me to the truck, helped me in, and buckled my seatbelt before speeding off.

Marcos didn’t say a word, only glancing at me from the road for seconds before focusing back on driving.

“Ana, it’s an emergency!” he shouted to the receptionist as we burst through the hospital doors, as if that explained anything, and didn’t even wait for a response before taking me to a room.

“What do we have here?” a nurse asked, gently taking my arm and removing Marcos’ hands from me. “It’s not as bad as it looks, but you’ll have to be strong, young lady,” he murmured.

Marcos stood with his arms crossed and a scowl the entire time, from when they removed the large piece of glass from my forearm to when they finished stitching it up.

“You okay?” I asked, looking at his unchanging scowl.

“Me? You’re the one who got hurt,” he said, stepping closer, his voice husky. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, God knows what he would’ve done to you.”

“He didn’t do anything, Marcos. I slipped on something on the stairs and fell. His only mistake was leaving that damn bottle there,” I finally explained, taking his hand. “Hey, I’m okay. Relax,” I reassured him. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled me into a hug.

“I was so scared when I saw you on the floor, bleeding. I heard the noise, and when I saw you like that…” Marcos held my face, touching me with the same tenderness and care as the other day. “I can’t see you like this, hurt, Emily.”

For a second, I thought he might kiss me, and my whole body trembled, anticipating the idea. But like the first time we spent together, he only pressed a hard kiss to my forehead.