"Lorraine lost her parents young," Renald said softly. "She's never suffered like this. A detention center would crush her."
"Danica, be good."
"I said I'm not signing!" I shouted, my voice breaking.
The next instant, the assistant grabbed my arm and twisted it hard.
"Ah—!"
Pain shot through every nerve in my body.
He forced my hand down, dragging the pen across the paper to scrawl my name. Then he pressed my fingers into the red inkpad and stamped it on the page.
Renald stood silently beside us, watching the entire scene unfold.
Sweat soaked my hospital gown. I looked up at the man I had loved for so many years, my voice trembling.
"Renald... you're doing this to me—for her?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned to his assistant and ordered calmly, "Call the doctor. Get the best medicine for her hand. Make sure she's well taken care of."
—
For the next few days, he didn't come by again, and only sent text messages.
[The mine collapsed. I'm tied up right now.]
[Don't stay angry. Once you're discharged, I'll take you to the city to relax.]
[Does your hand still hurt? Take care of yourself.]