the fog in her mind. She felt a dull ache spread through her entire body, a heavy weight pressing down on her limbs. She opened her

She was in

res, and Michael' s small hand slipping from hers. Then came the impact, a brutal, wo

throat. "Michael?" she croaked, her v

r outfit that was completely out of place in the quiet hospital wing. Her lipstick was a perfect, s

id of any real concern. She looked at her nails,

han any medicine. "Where is Michael?" Eleanor repeated, trying to

Look, it was an accident. It was dark,

, her voice shaking with a rising ti

missive hand. "He spoke with the police. There's no need to make a s

iction in Tiffany's eyes that she was untouchable, that her father's power was a shield that made her immune to consequences. This was not a negotiation, it was a declaration. The

report will say it was a tragic accident caused by poor road conditions. It' s better for

, innocent Michael, was just an annoyance. The police wouldn't help. The law wouldn't he

victory. She turned to leave, her victory assured. "Y

to bloom in the pit of Eleanor' s stomach. It was not despair. It was something else, something cold and hard and sharp.

aught her that honor wasn't about winning, it was about fighting for what was right, no matter th

had just been blind to how it truly worked. If the law was a too

ty room, her voice no longer weak but filled

d into this hospital was gone. In her place was someone else, a grieving mother forged into an

ion a mix of pity and professional detachment. "

ke a phone call," she said, her tone firm and leaving no ro

udden strength. "But Mrs. Vance, y

or replied, her mind already calculating h