Chapter 8

Joshua truly lived up to his reputation as the latest star in the spotlight. His acting skills were flawless. Even though I hadn't laid a finger on him, he made it look as if I had smashed the glass and ordered him to leave. The ache from where he had gripped my hand hadn't faded when Abigail rushed over to him, eyes wide with worry. "Joshua, are you alright?" Joshua sighed and shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Samuel doesn't like me. He didn't want to see me, so he lashed out." He looked at me apologetically with tears in his eyes. As I marveled at his performance, Abigail's face darkened, and she turned to me sharply. "Samuel, don't you think you're taking this too far?" I was already used to her putting the blame on me. I stayed silent, not even trying to defend myself. Joshua leaned into the performance, shaking his head with a sad smile. "Forget it. Really, this is my fault. He never liked me, and I shouldn't have shown up. It's only natural he'd be upset. Abigail, just let this slide." However, Abigail's face darkened after hearing his words. She snapped at me, "What? Joshua, you can't let this slide!" She took out her phone coldly, opened the message I'd sent her, and showed it to me. "You wanted money, didn't you? Fine." She pointed to the shattered glass on the floor and ordered, "Pick up these pieces and apologize to Joshua." I took a deep breath, ignoring the pain radiating through my body, and knelt to pick up the shards. Joshua bent down as if to help, but Abigail stopped him. "Joshua, you're too kind." She shot me a look filled with disgust. "Why would you help him when he threw the glass at you?" I took a deep breath and silently gathered the broken glass. The injury on my hand hadn't healed, and each move I made reopened the wound. Soon, the bandage was soaked with blood. But Abigail didn't notice; she was busy fussing over Joshua, carefully checking for injuries. She finally relaxed when she was sure he was fine. When I finished cleaning up, I looked up at her and asked quietly, "Are you satisfied? Can I get the money now?" Abigail gestured for Joshua to leave, and he finally walked out reluctantly. She then stepped closer and looked down at me icily. "Why should I give you money for your sister's illness? It has nothing to do with me." I was stunned by her words. Anyone but Abigail could say something like that. When Abigail had her car accident, she nearly died from blood loss. She had a rare rhesus-negative blood type, and the hospital didn't have the matching type. She would have likely died if she didn't receive a transfusion immediately. Kayla was the only one with her blood type. She volunteered without hesitation, saying she couldn't bear to lose Abigail. The doctors initially refused since Kayla was merely a child, and her fragile condition made donating her blood dangerous. But Abigail's life was on the line, so I had begged the doctors to let Kayla help. The transfusion saved Abigail's life, but Kayla suffered for it, spiking a high fever that worsened her illness. Thanks to skilled doctors, she survived, but not without lasting consequences. I still remember Abigail's promise when she woke up. She swore to treat Kayla as her sister from that day onward. Yet now, she had the nerve to say Kayla's illness had nothing to do with her. "Abigail! How could you say that?" I shouted, my eyes stinging with rage. Pain rippled through my chest as my heart pounded, and I gasped, clutching at my chest as beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I collapsed to the floor, curled in pain. There was a glint of surprise in Abigail's eyes, but I had no time to ponder what it meant. All I wanted was for my sister to live. She was only 12. She was still so young. She had yet to see the world, fall in love, start a family, or embrace the beauty of life. She couldn't possibly pass away at such a young age. How could Abigail say that Kayla's illness had nothing to do with her? She was cruel enough to refuse to pay for Kayla's surgery. When Abigail found out Kayla had donated blood, she vowed to look after her. But now, all her words meant nothing. "Get out! Get out of here!" I roared, pointing to the door. Abigail glared, her face cold, and stormed out. I wrapped my arms around my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The thought of losing Kayla shattered me. Overcome with despair, I stumbled to the bathroom and retched. The strain of vomiting made my eyes bleed, and the blood stung. I took a deep breath and washed my face. Then, I looked up at my reflection and smiled bitterly. "Samuel, what have you done to yourself? You're Kayla's brother. You have to be strong to help her." Summoning every ounce of strength, I dragged myself upstairs to the ICU. Outside Kayla's room, I looked through the glass at her small and pale face. Watching her hooked up to those machines made my chest throb, and dizziness washed over me. Thankfully, someone managed to catch me before I hit the floor. It was my best friend and one of Kayla's attending physicians, George Blucas. I took a deep breath and thanked him. He was shocked when he saw the state I was in. "Samuel, what happened to you? You look like you've been through hell." I tried to hold back the tears as I looked at my sister through the glass. "I'm fine," I managed, choking up. "Tell Dr. Benson that I'll get the money for Kayla's surgery. I won't let her go." Kayla was my life. I couldn't lose her.