Chapter 4 Severed Kinship

Domingo's shouts rang out through the funeral hall. "Get out. Get far away. And never come back."

Amelia collapsed onto the floor beside the wheelchair. She tried to brace herself with her injured arm, the broken bone piercing through her flesh. Waves of dizziness washed over her, and she was about to pass out.

She forced herself to stay focused, biting her tongue to stay alert. She struggled to sit up and looked toward Domingo.

Domingo stood beside the coffin in a sharp suit, a small white flower pinned to his chest. His gaze was full of disgust, as if he were looking at trash.

"Uncle... I just want to see my mother one last time."

"I told you to leave. Don't you understand?" Domingo lowered his voice. "Your mother was dragged down by you while she was alive, and now after her death you're still here causing trouble. Do you have any conscience at all?"

She lifted her gaze, looking past him toward Candice in the coffin.

Candice would never open her eyes again. She couldn't even finish saying goodbye.

"Just let me look at her once. Just once."

"Absolutely not." Domingo grabbed the wheelchair armrest and pushed it hard. "Look at yourself. Showing up to a funeral dressed like this—are you here to mourn, or to make a spectacle of yourself?"

She looked down at her outfit. The thin, tight fabric couldn't hide the scars on her body. The collar around her neck swayed with every movement, the bell jangling. Her hair was messy, tear stains still on her face, dried blood at the corner of her mouth.

She knew Violet had arranged this outfit. She wanted to explain, but her throat wouldn't make a sound.

"Amelia, you are the Martinez family's disgrace. Candice's biggest regret was adopting an ungrateful person like you."

"Even if I was adopted, she still raised me for over twenty years. Please. Let me say goodbye."

"You don't deserve to call her mother anymore. She took care of you for years, and this is how you repay her? Those videos online have humiliated this entire family. She saw that content and pulled out her own oxygen tube. Amelia, you killed her with your own hands."

"I didn't. Violet planned all of it—"

"Enough." Domingo cut her off. "Violet has been frail since childhood. She's pure-hearted and kind. She could never do such things. But you—after marrying into the Moore family, you've never done anything decent."

Pure-hearted? Amelia felt a chill in her heart. The woman who had taken her child and driven Candice to her death was seen as innocent and kind by everyone. But she was branded a disgrace, the killer of Candice.

Domingo's voice rang out again, filling the entire hall. "From today on, Amelia is officially removed from the Martinez family. Her life and death from now on have nothing to do with this family."

He turned his back to her. "Leave here. And never appear again."

Amelia couldn't hold on any longer. She collapsed, tears blurring her vision.

"What are you standing around for?" Domingo raised his hand to signal the security guards. "Drag her out."

Two guards came forward, grabbed her uninjured arm, and dragged her out. Her injured limbs were pulled, broken bones grinding against flesh. The pain nearly knocked her out. She wanted to scream, but her body had no strength left.

She was dragged through the crowd, past rows of flower arrangements, and finally brought out through the open doors. The murmuring voices behind her faded. Candice in the coffin disappeared from view.

The guards threw her onto the pavement outside the funeral home.

The scorching sun had heated the ground until it burned. Her back pressed against the surface, roasting.

The guards turned and left. The heavy doors slowly closed.

She struggled to stand, but her injured ankle wouldn't hold her weight. She could only use one good hand to push against the ground, inching forward.

She had to get away from here. She had to survive.

She gritted her teeth and kept crawling. The burning pavement scraped her elbows and knees raw. Sweat mixed with blood, leaving a long trail behind her.

After crawling for what felt like hours, her consciousness began to fade, the scene before her blurring. Finally, she collapsed by the roadside.

Before she blacked out completely, she saw a pair of leather shoes stop in front of her. A cold male voice said, "Take her back."

A chill spread with those words. She had no more thoughts left and fell into darkness.

When she regained consciousness, she was lying on an unfamiliar hospital bed.

Fluorescent tubes on the gray-white ceiling emitted a continuous low hum. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with mustiness.

She tried to move, and pain shot through her whole body. She vaguely remembered collapsing by the roadside and being taken away. Everything after that was blank.

The hospital room door opened. A nurse carrying a tray walked in, placed a bowl of thin porridge on the bedside table, and turned to leave.

"Wait... where is this place?"

Her voice was hoarse and dry, almost unrecognizable.

The nurse didn't respond. Without looking at her once, she walked straight out.

The door locked with a click.

Amelia managed to sit up and looked around. The room was cramped, no windows, only a heavy iron door. The walls were bare. No call button by the bed. It felt more like a prison cell.

She lifted the bowl and took a sip. The porridge was thin as dishwater, with barely a handful of oats swirling in it. No salt, no butter, nothing.

Over the next few days, she pieced together her situation.

This was a private hospital owned by the Martinez family. The people who had taken her away answered to Violet.

Before long, Violet came to visit.

A nurse was changing her dressings when the door suddenly opened. An attendant pushed Violet in her wheelchair into the room.

Violet wore a white nightgown, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her face pale to the point of transparency.

"Amelia, are you feeling better?" Her tone was gentle, laced with false concern.

Amelia said nothing. She just watched her.

Violet had the attendant wait outside and wheeled herself to the bedside.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. A mocking smile played at the corner of her mouth. "If I hadn't suggested placing you here, Benjamin would have abandoned you somewhere to quietly wait for death."

"You call this saving me? You're keeping me prisoner."

"Better than being out there with everyone pointing fingers at you." She tilted her head. "You've lost your child. Lost your adoptive mother. Your husband has abandoned you. Even your uncle threw you out of the family."

"If you're just here to see me in misery, you can leave."

"I'm not here to mock you," she said, reaching out to touch the gauze on Amelia's arm. "I'm here to tell you some news. Your heart will be beating in my chest in the future."

"Get out."

"Getting angry so quickly?" Violet laughed softly. "Easy now. Before the transplant, your blood will keep conditioning my body. One pint every week—until I'm fully stable."

She patted Amelia's hand. "Rest well and eat more. You're in such poor condition. I don't want you dying before the surgery."

With that, she wheeled herself toward the door. Before leaving, she looked back once more. "Oh, by the way, the food here is pretty basic. You'll just have to bear with it. After all, you're no longer Mrs. Moore. You don't have the right to enjoy fine food anymore."

The door closed again.

Amelia stared at that iron door, hatred churning in her chest.

She had to escape from here.