Capítulo 3: CHAPTER TWO : A CHANCE (2)
Just as Mr. Taker was about to leave, the door to Emilia's hospital room burst open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. Emilia flinched, her fingers instinctively curling around the armrests of her wheelchair, her calm moment shattered by the sudden intrusion.
Her family had arrived.
Leading the charge was her father, face red with anger, followed closely by her mother, looking as though she had just stepped out of some elegant tea party, pearls glinting around her neck. Behind them was her brother, who lingered in the doorway, his expression cold and unreadable. His presence alone sent a familiar chill down Emilia's spine.
"Emilia!" her father barked, eyes blazing as he stormed into the room. "What is the meaning of this? Your lawyer just informed us of your ridiculous will!"
Emilia's heart sank, but she remained silent, her gaze drifting toward Mr. Taker, who now stood frozen in place, his professional mask slipping as he glanced between her and her family. It was clear he hadn't expected this confrontation.
Her mother followed, her voice sharp and dripping with judgment. "Have you lost your mind, child? Leaving everything to *charity*? What kind of absurd decision is this?"
Emilia's grip on the wheelchair tightened, her knuckles turning white. She had known this moment might come, but she had hoped to avoid it. She had hoped they would let her go quietly, without stirring up more of the pain she had fought so hard to bury.
But that had always been too much to ask.
Her father took another step forward, towering over her frail figure as she sat there, his presence as intimidating as ever. "You will not sign away your fortune, do you hear me? You owe us!"
Emilia's eyes finally lifted, meeting her father's furious gaze with a cold, steady look of her own. The fire that had once burned so brightly in his eyes had always been for their true daughter, not her.
She was nothing more than a placeholder, a child taken in to appease their guilt for losing the real one. They had raised her with that same coldness, a hollow affection that cracked the moment they discovered she wasn't their blood.
"I owe you?" Emilia repeated, her voice soft but laced with bitterness. "After everything, you still think I owe you anything?"
Her mother's face twisted into a scowl, her lips pursing as she looked down at her daughter with barely concealed disdain. "You're still part of this family, Emilia, whether you like it or not. After all we've done for you, the least you can do is—"
"What have you done for me?" Emilia cut her off, her voice rising slightly as years of suppressed anger bubbled to the surface. "You took me in to replace your real daughter. You used me until you didn't need me anymore. And when I was no longer convenient, you tossed me aside like garbage."
Her mother's eyes widened, shocked by Emilia's sudden outburst, but her father's expression only hardened further.
"You've always been ungrateful," he spat, crossing his arms. "We gave you everything. A roof over your head, an education—"
"Everything?" Emilia laughed bitterly. "You gave me nothing but a life of lies. I served you, I worked for you, and I built everything I have from nothing because you never saw me as your daughter. And when I was no longer useful, you abandoned me. Just like that."
Her brother, who had remained silent until now, finally stepped forward, his voice low and smooth as he addressed her. "Emilia, you're being dramatic. You don't need to do this. Just think it over—"
"I have thought it over," Emilia snapped, cutting him off. She turned her gaze to him, feeling the old wound flare inside her chest. He was the one who had pushed her, the one who had taken everything from her in a single moment of jealousy. "And I've made my decision."
Her brother's eyes narrowed, the cold mask he wore slipping just slightly, revealing the frustration beneath. "You're just bitter because of what happened. This isn't about charity—it's about revenge."
Emilia's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Revenge? No, this isn't revenge. I don't care about any of you anymore. I've moved on."
Her father slammed his hand against the table, the sound echoing in the small room. "Enough of this nonsense! You're not leaving this family destitute with your foolish whims, Emilia!"
At this, Mr. Taker finally stepped in, his voice calm but firm as he addressed the room. "With all due respect, Mr. Vilheim, Miss Emilia's assets are her own. She has the legal right to do whatever she wishes with them."
Her father shot Mr. Taker a murderous look. "You stay out of this! This is a family matter."
Emilia watched them all with a growing sense of detachment, her heart hardening against the onslaught of emotions they were trying to stir within her. She had lived too long under their control, too long believing that she was nothing without their approval. But now, as she sat here, facing them down in this cold hospital room, she realized something.
She didn't need them anymore.
"I don't owe you anything," Emilia said quietly, her voice calm but resolute. "Not my money, not my loyalty, and certainly not my life. I'm leaving everything to charity because it's the only thing that feels right. And there's nothing you can say that will change that."
Her mother stepped forward, her voice growing sharp. "Emilia, be reasonable. You're ill—this isn't the time to be making such rash decisions."
Emilia's eyes flicked over to her mother, the woman who had pretended to love her, only to discard her like a broken doll when the truth was revealed. "I'm not ill, Mother. I'm just done."
Her father's face darkened, but before he could speak, her brother stepped in again, his voice now laced with cold steel. "If you go through with this, Emilia, you'll be left with nothing. No support, no family. You'll die alone in this hospital, with no one to care for you."
Emilia met his gaze, her own unflinching. "I've been alone for a long time."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Her family stood there, seething with anger, but none of them could refute the truth she had just laid bare.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her father spoke again, his voice low and full of fury. "If that's how you want it, then so be it. But don't come crawling back to us when you realize you've made a mistake."
Emilia turned away, her gaze once again fixed on the window. "I won't."
Without another word, her father spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, followed quickly by her mother, who shot Emilia one last scornful look before disappearing through the door. Her brother lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation. But when he found none, he left as well, the door slamming shut behind him.
The room was quiet once more, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Emilia let out a slow breath, feeling the tension drain from her body.
Mr. Taker remained standing by the table, his expression unreadable as he watched her.
"Are you sure about this, Miss Emilia?" he asked softly.
Emilia closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the past lift from her shoulders.
"Yes," she whispered. "I'm sure."
And for the first time in years, she felt free.
*****
Emilia lay on her hospital bed, feeling her body slowly surrender to the overwhelming fatigue that had settled into her bones. The once-strong and capable limbs now felt like dead weight, drained of the will to move.
But she wasn't alone. Beside her sat Michael, her loyal secretary and dear friend, who had been with her through the best and worst of times. He was the young man she had taken under her wing years ago, sponsoring him through his education and helping him grow into the brilliant trader he is today.
He had always called her his mentor, but in truth, he was more like a younger brother to her, a bright spark in the otherwise dark void that had become her life.
Tonight, Michael's voice was unusually lively as he sat next to her, peeling a fruit he had brought as a small gift. His eyes shone with excitement, his face alight with a joy that momentarily distracted Emilia from the gnawing weakness in her limbs.
"Emilia, you won't believe it," Michael said, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "I finally did it—I proposed to Alina! And guess what? We had a baby girl!" He grinned, holding up the small fruit in his hand, but his gaze was filled with warmth as he looked at her. "You're going to meet her soon. She's going to have the coolest aunt ever. Just wait until she knows she has you for an aunt."
Emilia smiled at him, though her face felt heavy, as though even that small gesture required too much energy. She had always known Michael would build a beautiful life for himself—he was too brilliant, too full of ambition to settle for anything less. He had fought hard for his success, just as she had once fought for hers, and now he was reaping the rewards of his efforts.
"That's wonderful, Michael," she said, her voice soft but filled with genuine happiness for him. "Your daughter… She's lucky to have you for a father."
Michael laughed lightly, the sound filling the quiet room with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the sterile hospital environment. "And she's going to have the best aunt ever," he added, playfully nudging her arm. "Alina and I already talked about it. We'll tell her stories about you—about how you were always the one who made everything possible. She's going to love you, Emilia."
Emilia's heart ached at his words. She could feel her body growing weaker by the minute, her eyelids growing heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake just a little longer, to savor the moment. Michael's joy was contagious, and for a fleeting moment, she could forget about the looming darkness that threatened to consume her.
"That sounds… perfect," she whispered, her smile softening as the drowsiness crept in. She could feel herself slipping, her grip on consciousness weakening with every passing second. But she didn't want to ruin this moment for Michael. He deserved to be happy, to enjoy the life he had built for himself.
Michael continued talking, his voice becoming more distant as her mind began to fog. "I can't wait for you to meet her, Emilia. I'll bring her here next week. I'll bring Alina too, and we'll all—" He suddenly paused, glancing over at Emilia as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment too long.
"Emilia?" His voice cracked, the cheerfulness gone, replaced by sudden panic.
Emilia felt the fruit slip from Michael's hand as he bolted to his feet, calling for the nurses. "Nurse! Someone, please, help!" His voice was trembling now, the frantic urgency in it tugging at the edges of her consciousness, but she was too tired to respond, too tired to even move.
Within moments, the door to her hospital room burst open again, this time with a team of nurses and doctors rushing in. Michael stood frozen near the foot of her bed, his hands trembling as he watched the medical team move quickly, checking her vitals, and and calling for additional equipment.
"Emilia, hold on," Michael pleaded, stepping closer to her bedside, his voice now laced with desperation. "Please, just hold on. You can't go yet. Not like this. You promised to meet my daughter, remember? You promised!"
Emilia wanted to respond, wanted to comfort him, but the words wouldn't come. Her body was too weak, her mind too clouded. All she could manage was a faint smile, her eyes barely open as she met Michael's gaze one last time.
"Tell her…" Emilia murmured, her voice barely a whisper now, "that her aunt… is proud of her…"
Michael's face crumpled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he shook his head. "No… no, don't talk like that, Emilia. You're going to meet her yourself. You're going to be there…"
But Emilia's body was no longer listening. The world around her began to fade, the sounds of the frantic hospital staff growing distant, like echoes from another life. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she saw was Michael's tear-filled eyes, filled with sorrow and helplessness.
Then, everything went dark.
When Emilia next opened her eyes, it wasn't to the sterile white walls of the hospital. Instead, she found herself lying in a soft, warm bed, the scent of pine wood filling the air. Blinking, she sat up slowly, her body surprisingly light, the weakness she had felt moments ago gone as if it had never existed.
She looked around, confused. The room she was in was small and simple, the walls made of sturdy wooden logs, giving the place a rustic, cozy feel. A small window allowed sunlight to filter in, casting golden rays across the wooden floor.
This… wasn't the hospital.
Her heart began to race as she tried to make sense of where she was. Her fingers ran along the smooth, handcrafted wood of the bedframe, her mind still reeling from the shock of waking up in such a drastically different place.
"What… what is this?" she whispered to herself, her voice steady but filled with confusion.
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