Chapter 5

When Sylvia opened her eyes again, she found herself in a hospital bed. Pain racked her body, as though it might tear itself apart at any moment. She had long since lost count of how many times she had been admitted to the hospital.

Her phone rang. A prison guard she had once quietly helped was on the line. His voice was low and urgent. "Miss Frost, your mother has received some… special attention inside. Did you offend someone?"

Sulvia's breathing caught. "What did you just say?"

"Someone high up ordered us to 'look after' her," he replied. "She hasn't been given proper meals. Other inmates are targeting her. They've forced her to stay outside under the sun for ten hours a day."

The words struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her vision wavered, and the voice on the phone seemed to drift farther and farther away.

The hospital door flew open without warning.

Victor walked in.

Sylvia slowly lifted her head and looked at him. In that instant, everything became clear. "You did this."

Only Victor had that kind of influence. He also believed she was the one who had threatened Rachel. His face showed no confusion and no surprise.

Sylvia stared at him as though she were seeing a stranger.

"My mother saved your family. You can't treat her like this. Her health has been fragile for years. She can't endure this kind of torment…" Her voice shook.

Victor stepped forward and seized her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

"She helped my family," he said, his gaze chilly. "But she did nothing for Rach."

His grip tightened. "If you're angry, direct it at me. I deserve it. But why did you hurt an innocent person again?"

Sylvia's face throbbed as though it might shatter. She met his gaze stubbornly, her eyes bloodshot. "I didn't take any photos. I didn't threaten Rachel. If you don't believe me, check the hotel entrance cameras—"

"If it wasn't you, then who?" he interrupted coldly. "Rach has a gentle nature. She's never had conflicts with anyone. Except you."

No matter what she said, Victor had already passed judgment.

Sylvia smiled bitterly. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and fell onto the back of his hand.

The warmth made him pause, as though something inside him had been lightly scorched.

"Fine," she said in a soft voice. "I admit I was wrong. Tell them to stop targeting my mother. From now on, I'll stay far away from Rachel."

She lowered her head in surrender. She no longer had the strength to fight. Resistance had proven useless. All she wanted was her mother's safety. She still needed to take her away.

When Victor saw her yield, he loosened his grip. His hand moved to her cheek, and his tone softened. "I don't want to hurt your mother either. But Rach is innocent. She won't appear in our lives again. If you don't want contact with her, then avoid her. Just don't hurt her."

He pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Sylvia nodded numbly, obedient and lifeless.

Even so, she failed to save her mother.

The next day, the prison called again. Sylvia remembered nothing of the trip there. When awareness returned, she stood inside the morgue. Her mother lay silent on a gurney, her face drained of color.

Sylvia collapsed to the floor. Her hands trembled as she reached out, unable to bring herself to touch her.

"Mom. Didn't you say you were leaving with me? Wake up. We were so close to getting away. Why? Why did this happen?" Her voice broke as tears fell onto that cold face, unable to restore even the faintest warmth.

The guard beside her spoke in a hushed voice, unable to bear the scene. "Heatstroke. By the time she was discovered, it was already too late."

…

That same day, Sylvia arranged her mother's cremation. She stood alone at the funeral.

Before the service, she called Victor 19 times. He answered none of them. When she finally lowered her phone, a new video appeared on Rachel's social feed.

It showed a concert filled with blinding lights and deafening music. At Rachel's side stood the man Sylvia could never reach, his gaze gentle as it rested on her.

The noise brought back a memory of the livehouse show Sylvia had once invited him to attend.

"You know I don't like crowded, noisy places," Victor had said at the time.

Yet now he accompanied Rachel at a packed concert.

Sylvia smiled quietly, her expression tinged with self-mockery, and made no further calls.

At the funeral home, she bought a necklace. With her own hands, she placed her mother's ashes inside it.

"Mom, I'm taking you away," she whispered as she fastened it around her neck.