Farewell

The only sound at the top floor was the tick-tock of the IV drip, each drop a slow, deliberate beat—a reminder that the patient was still breathing.

“Mommy…” a low voice sounded in the ward. The nurses, who were carefully cleaning up the patient in the left bed, all jerked their heads in surprise. The patient in the right bed had finally muttered a word after three months of unconsciousness.

Yes, this ward had two beds—a special arrangement by the Rose family.

“She’s awake!” a nurse whispered as the patient’s eyes slowly opened.

“Go on, call the doctor,” another urged.

“Mommy…” the voice called again, tears rolling down her cheeks and wetting the sheets. The patient stared at the ceiling, uncaring of where she was. The last thing she remembered was being surrounded by her husband and armed men who wanted to hurt her.

Oh yes—she had jumped from the bridge, struggled underwater, fought against death, and tried to swim in water that had no surface. Now, she was here.

The door swung open, and it might have seemed like the doctor had rushed in, but instead, it was a man with rough brown hair and dark emerald eyes that stared deeply at the slim figure on the bed. His lips curled into a smile once he confirmed she was really awake.

Finally, the girl tilted her head, and their eyes met. She blinked once, twice, before smiling at him.

“Aidie,” she choked out, then burst into tears—relieved to find her stepbrother here, which meant she was safe, but heartbroken by everything that had happened: losing her mother, stepfather, Miss Lulu, and her dog—all at the hands of the man she had loved.

“Aidie, he killed…” she sobbed, reaching out for him to come closer. But Aiden only stood by the door, his expression unreadable. The smile he wore didn’t even last a minute.

At last, the doctor hurried in, glancing at Aiden before explaining,

“I’ll check on her first,”—he had to justify himself since this man had nearly had his fingers broken the last time he touched the girl to check her pulse.

Don’t touch her, motherfucker!

he had yelled and growled at him and after a tense explanation that he needed to touch her in order to help, Aiden finally have in.

Once the doctor was done, he walked over to Aiden, scribbling on his pad.

“Feed her proteins and fruit. A lot of it. And take her out for a walk after two hours—she needs it.”

Aiden didn’t answer, but the doctor knew he’d heard. He sighed and motioned for the nurses to follow him.

“This man will be the death of me,” the doctor muttered as he left.

Aiden’s brows furrowed at the disappearing doctor before glancing back at Luna, whose gaze was still on him, her hand still extended, though he didn’t move.

“It’s good you’re awake,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse. “I’m tired of babysitting.”

“I… I’m sorry for all the trouble,” Luna sniffed, trying to sit up. She expected Aiden to help, but he just stood by the door, not daring to take a step forward, making her anxious—did she have some disease?

She sighed and took in her surroundings: a big ward with white and yellow curtains, a mini sitting area, a door probably leading to the bathroom.

Her gaze stopped at the other bed to the left, occupied by a girl whose face was hidden by so many tubes. The sight made Luna’s heart clench—how could someone be in such a condition?

“That’s Calla Rose,” Aiden said, sensing her confusion and deciding to explain.

“Calla Rose?” Luna’s eyes widened. Of course she knew the name—every girl her age did. Calla was the girl everyone wished to be: a young heiress, a vibrant blogger… everything. But this condition—it was unspeakable.

“She offered you something,” Aiden added, finally moving from his spot, but instead of approaching the bed, he walked to the window, still watching Luna’s face, which now seemed unfamiliar to him.

“Me? Why would she offer me anything?” Luna asked. She barely knew Calla, and was sure Calla didn’t know her either—so what could she have left her?

“Hmm, something priceless and—” Aiden stopped as the door opened and two figures entered.

There was a woman in her early forties, with long coffee-brown hair and dark eyes. She smiled at Luna, then glanced at the man beside her—a few inches taller, in his late forties, the third son of Old Madam Rose, and Calla’s father.

He placed his hand on his wife Cecile’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“She’s finally awake.”

Cecile nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“My dear Calla is back,” she whispered, wiping her tears. Her words didn’t escape Luna, who looked from Aiden to Calla, with all those tubes making it impossible to see her face.

“Hello, dear. I’m Cecile Rose, but you can call me Mom,” Cecile said, walking slowly to Luna. Luna blinked at her in disbelief. Did this woman lose her mind because of her daughter’s condition? Would she be crazy to push her away?

“Aidie…” Luna turned to the only familiar person she could trust. For the first time since she woke up, Aiden walked over, pulled out his phone, turned on the camera, and pointed it at Luna’s face.

Her eyes widened. Her hands shot up to touch her face—this face.

This face was a public figure. This face belonged to the girl who had inherited all the Rose assets—the top family in the nation.

She was a billionaire heiress. The couple before her had to be Calla’s parents. But why… why did she have Calla’s face?

“What did you do to me?” Luna glared at Aiden, demanding an explanation, right now, this very minute.

“The name Luna Norman is a taboo in every household. With that name, you’ll never live a normal life. Take this as me offering you a second chance,” he replied without hesitation. Luna clenched the sheets.

A second chance? Her name was a taboo?

“I want my face back. I don’t need a second chance, because I’m going to make everyone who did this to me suffer.”

Aiden laughed—really laughed, throwing his head back. Luna stared in disbelief.

“How, Missy? How do you plan on making them suffer?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“No, Missy.” Aiden gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You lost. Take that as defeat and embrace the new life Calla is offering you.”

A tear slid down Luna’s cheek at his words. Fine. Maybe he didn’t care that they killed her mother—he’d never gotten along with her. But those people killed his dad. Her stepfather...

Was he really going to accept defeat?

“They killed Paul,” she whispered, remembering the scene where he was pushed off the balcony.

Aiden raised a brow. Was that supposed to affect him? They killed his father—so what?

After all, his father was already dead to him.

“Aiden,” Cecile gently pulled Luna from him, hugging her.

“Let me explain to her. Don’t be harsh.”

“Are you calm now?” Cecile rubbed Luna’s cheeks. Luna nodded, though she was far from calm.

“I heard what happened to you. You’re all over the news. The public is accusing you and your mother of killing Paul Orion and fleeing the country. You can’t—you shouldn’t—go back there.”

Cecile smiled, and somehow, that smile warmed Luna’s heart, making her believe everything would be alright.

“My daughter Calla was killed by relatives because she inherited everything. We won’t let them win. We’ll protect you from them, but all you have to do is be Calla Rose.”

Silence fell. They waited for Luna’s decision, but she said nothing, sitting with a blank look.

Aiden glanced at his watch.

“Go back and become the billionaire heiress—that’s what you always wanted.”

They all stared at Aiden, but he simply shrugged.

“My job here is over. Farewell, Calla Rose.”

And without looking back, he left.