3: "You're making me leave everything behind?"

Lilith POV

White ceiling tiles greeted me when I opened my eyes, fluorescent lights burning too bright while a heart monitor beeped steadily somewhere to my left. My skull throbbed with each pulse like someone had taken an axe to it and left the blade buried in bone.

I tried sitting up but gentle pressure pushed me back down.

"Don't move." The voice was calm, professional, female. "You hit your head pretty hard."

My vision slowly cleared until I could make out a nurse in scrubs standing beside my bed, clipboard in hand, checking something on the monitor. The room was small and sterile, antiseptic smell turning my stomach.

"Where am I?" The words scraped out of my throat, rough and raw.

"Saint Mary's Hospital. You've been unconscious for about two hours." She scribbled something on her clipboard before offering a smile that was probably meant to comfort. "Your father is here, he's been waiting for you to wake up."

That's when I saw him in the corner, slumped in a chair with his suit jacket draped over the armrest and his tie hanging loose around his neck. His head tilted back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, dark circles beneath his eyes that looked like bruises painted on skin. He looked exhausted in a way I'd never witnessed before, older somehow, as though he'd aged decades in mere hours.

Guilt crashed into me with physical force, stealing what little breath I had. This was my fault, all of it. The video, the scandal, the media circus devouring his campaign. If I'd been more careful, if I'd seen through Tyler's performance, if I'd never dated him at all, none of this would be happening. My father wouldn't be sleeping in a hospital chair at whatever ungodly hour this was, wouldn't be fielding questions about his daughter's sex tape, wouldn't be watching his reelection dreams disintegrate because of my choices.

"How long has he been here?" I kept my voice low, not wanting to disturb him.

"Since they brought you in. He hasn't left except to make a few phone calls." She finished writing and hung the clipboard at the foot of my bed. "The doctor will be in soon to check on you. You have a concussion so you'll need to stay overnight for observation."

Her footsteps faded against the linoleum as she left. I lay there listening to my father's breathing mixing with the monitor's steady rhythm and the hospital's distant sounds filtering through the door. My phone was missing but I didn't need it to know what was happening beyond these walls. The video was still spreading, comments still piling up, damage already done and irreversible.

I'd destroyed everything.

My father stirred, shifting position before his eyes cracked open slowly. It took him a moment to orient himself, to remember where he was. When he noticed me awake and watching him, something flickered across his features that I couldn't quite interpret.

"You're awake." He straightened in his chair, dragging a hand through disheveled hair. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts." The understatement felt inadequate for the pounding that made coherent thought nearly impossible. "Dad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything."

"We'll talk about it later." His tone was flat, devoid of emotion, the same voice he'd used this morning when he'd been yelling. "Right now you need to rest."

"No, I need to tell you." Tears were already building behind my eyes but I pushed forward anyway. "I went to see Tyler. I know I wasn't supposed to leave the house but I needed answers, I needed to understand why he did this. And he told me."

My father's expression remained unchanged. "Told you what?"

"Your running mate paid him." The confession tumbled out in a rush, words tripping over each other. "He paid Tyler fifty thousand dollars to post that video, to destroy your campaign. Tyler showed me the bank statement, admitted everything. He said it wasn't personal, that he never really cared about me, that dating me was just about popularity and connections. He sold me out for money, Dad. He sold both of us out."

Silence stretched between us for what felt like minutes. My father just stared at me with those exhausted eyes, jaw working beneath his skin. Then he stood and moved to the window, gazing out at whatever view the hospital offered.

"I know," he said quietly.

"You know?" Disbelief made my voice crack. "How long have you known?"

"Tyler called an ambulance after you fell. When the paramedics brought you in, he stayed long enough to explain what happened, what he'd done, why he'd done it." My father turned from the window, his expression carved from stone. "He was scared you were seriously hurt, thought he might be liable, wanted to get ahead of it by confessing everything."

"So you know about the money, about your running mate orchestrating it?"

"Yes."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Another long pause stretched before he answered. "I don't know yet. My lawyers are investigating but proving he paid for the video is complicated. Tyler could claim the money was for something else, my running mate could deny everything, it would devolve into a he said situation dragging out for months. By then the election would be finished."

"So he just gets away with it?" My voice rose despite the pounding in my skull. "He paid someone to destroy your campaign, to humiliate me, to ruin both our lives and he just walks away free?"

"I didn't say that." My father returned to the chair beside my bed, settling into it heavily. "I said I don't know yet. Right now my priority is making sure you're okay, getting you out of the public eye, figuring out how to move forward."

The guilt surged back heavier than before, pressing down on my chest. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't dated Tyler, if I'd been more careful, if I'd just listened to you when you said he wasn't good enough—"

"Stop." His hand came up, cutting off my words. "This isn't your fault. Tyler made a choice to record you without your consent. My running mate made a choice to pay him for it. Those are their actions, their choices, not yours."

"But if I hadn't—"

"Lilith." Firmness entered his voice though not unkindness. "You trusted someone who didn't deserve it. That's not a crime, it's not something you should blame yourself for. Tyler is the one who betrayed that trust. He's the one who chose money over decency."

I stared down at my hands, twisting the hospital blanket between my fingers. "I still ruined your campaign."

"My campaign was already in trouble." He sighed, the sound carrying more exhaustion than I'd ever heard from him. "The polls were tight, my opponent was gaining ground, this just accelerated what was probably inevitable anyway. Politics is ugly, Lilith. People will use anything they can to win, even if it means destroying a teenage girl's life in the process."

The tears I'd been fighting finally broke free, streaming down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. "I don't know what to do. Everyone has seen that video, everyone is talking about me, I can't go back to school or see my friends or have any kind of normal life. How am I supposed to move forward when my entire existence is online for people to judge?"

My father reached over, his hand closing around mine. It was the first gentle gesture he'd made since this morning, the first touch without anger fueling it. "That's why I've made a decision. I'm sending you to Italy."

I looked up at him through blurred vision, confused. "What?"

"There's a small town called Bellmare where your mother grew up. Her older sister, your aunt Isabella, still lives there." He squeezed my hand gently. "You'll stay with her for a few months, maybe longer. Just until things die down here, until the media finds the next scandal, until you can come back without being harassed everywhere you go."

"You're sending me away?" Fresh tears fell but these felt different somehow, weighted with something else. "You're making me leave everything behind?"

"I'm protecting you." Gentleness mixed with firmness in his tone. "Here you'll be hounded by reporters, stalked by photographers, bullied by classmates who think this is entertainment. In Bellmare you'll be just another American teenager staying with family. No one will know about the video, no one will care about your father's campaign. You'll have space to heal, to figure out who you want to be after all this."

"What about you? What about the election?"

"I'll deal with the election. My lawyers will handle the legal aspects, my campaign team will handle the media. Right now you need to focus on yourself." He released my hand, settling back in his chair. "Your flight leaves tomorrow night. I've already spoken to Isabella, she's expecting you."

"Tomorrow?" The word barely made it past my lips. "That's so soon."

"The sooner you leave, the sooner this dies down." Something resembling sympathy entered his eyes. "I know this isn't what you want but it's what needs to happen. Trust me."

I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn't want to go to some small Italian town where I knew no one and couldn't speak the language. But when I looked at his face, at the exhaustion etched into every line, at the weight he carried because of me, the words wouldn't come.

"Sophia," I managed instead. "Can I at least say goodbye to Sophia?"

"She's outside. I told her she could come in once you woke up." He stood, collecting his jacket from the chair. "I'll give you two some time alone."

He moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "Lilith? I meant what I said earlier. This isn't your fault. Don't carry that with you to Italy."

Then he was gone, the door closing with a soft click.

Seconds later it opened again and Sophia appeared with swollen red eyes, mascara streaked down her cheeks. When she saw me sitting up in bed she released a sob and rushed forward, throwing her arms around me.

"Oh my god Lil." Her voice came muffled against my shoulder. "I thought you were dying. Tyler called me, said you hit your head, that there was so much blood—"

"I'm okay." I returned her embrace, feeling my own tears starting again. "I have a concussion but I'm okay."

She pulled back, studying me with those bloodshot eyes. "Your dad told me you're leaving, that he's sending you to Italy tomorrow."

"Yeah." The word emerged flat and hollow.

"For how long?"

"I don't know. A few months maybe."

"That's not fair." Her crying intensified. "This whole thing isn't fair. Tyler ruins your life, gets paid for it, gets modeling offers, meanwhile you have to leave the country like you did something wrong."

"My dad says it's to protect me."

"It's exile." Sophia wiped at her eyes futilely as more tears replaced the ones she cleared. "You're being exiled because some asshole decided money was more important than you."

She wasn't wrong but I was too exhausted to debate it. My head throbbed, my body ached, guilt still sat heavy in my chest. Italy sounded distant, quiet, safe. Maybe that's exactly what I needed.

"Will you visit?" I asked.

"Of course." She grabbed my hand, squeezing tight. "As soon as I save up enough money I'll fly out there, we'll explore Italy together, it'll be like a vacation."

We both knew the truth, that she probably couldn't afford a ticket, that by the time I returned everything would be different. But I appreciated her lie anyway.

We sat there in that hospital room holding hands and crying together until a nurse appeared to announce visiting hours were over.