My dad called me foolish. He threatened to cut ties with me. And I accepted it without hesitation.
But now, with something to compare it to, I finally see the truth.
He did save me. It just wasn’t love.
It was a carefully packaged debt of gratitude.
And that life-saving favor? Over these past few years, I’ve repaid it in full.
We owe each other nothing now.
At the hospital, I had just finished getting my wounds treated when the door to my room was kicked open.
Viggo’s parents stormed in.
“You curse!” his mother shrieked, pointing at me as if I were something rotten. She even tried to claw at my face. “If it weren’t for you, how could he be hurt this badly?”
“What kind of company building collapses like a condemned house? Lights falling from the ceiling?! Are you kidding me?”
I looked up at them, cold and steady.
“My building meets top-tier safety standards. No one controls an earthquake. Your son got hurt because he chose to save someone. Why is that my fault?”
She froze, clearly not expecting me to talk back.
Her face flushed red. Clutching her chest dramatically, she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.
“You’re coming with me. You’re going to apologize to Viggo!”