Madison's eyes snapped open. The ceiling above her was a sterile, unfamiliar white. Gritting her teeth against a wave of nausea, she forced herself into a sitting position.
"Where am I?" she murmured, her vision a blurred smear of colors.
Fragments of memory flickered through her mind—the quiet clearing behind the school, the boy's trembling confession. As she steadied herself, her gaze drifted across the room. Floral wallpaper lined the walls, and the scent of old wood and lavender filled the air.
Her breath caught.
A wooden horse lay on the floor—a toy she hadn't seen in over a decade.
This is my room, she realized, her heart hammering against her ribs. My room from when I was little.
She rose slowly, her legs strangely light, The room looks like it's newly made. She moved toward the window.
Outside, sunlight bathed a quiet lawn. A three-year-old version of herself laughed as she was lifted high into the air by a boy—older, maybe seven or eight. He pointed excitedly at birds in the trees, his laughter bright and carefree.
Who is he? Madison wondered.
She tried to look for his face, but his face remained a blur of sunlight.
Then her gaze shifted.
A woman sat on a nearby bench, her posture elegant, her features a perfect—haunting—reflection of Madison's own.
"Mother…" Madison whispered.
The woman watched the children with a look of such deep, aching love that it struck like a physical blow. Tears welled in Madison's eyes. Her strength gave out, and she slid down the wall, burying her face in her hands.
Why? Mother, why?
Suddenly, the sunlight vanished.
The floral walls dissolved into cold shadows. The laughter of birds faded, replaced by distant, frantic voices.
Yuri…? Grandpa…?
Outside the hospital room, Doctor adjusted his glasses as he faced the Chairman and Allen.
"She's stable," he said calmly. "The immediate danger has passed."
"Explain the paralysis," the Chairman demanded, his voice like grinding stone. "What did they do to my granddaughter?"
"It was a calculated strike with a Kubotan," Dr. Thomas replied, gesturing to a neurological chart. "She was hit with surgical precision at several major nerve centers—the base of the throat, the solar plexus, and the intercostal nerves between the ribs. It caused a total motor shutdown."
"And the blood?" Allen asked, his eyes cold.
"A side effect of the trauma," the doctor explained. "The paralysis affected her eyelids as well—they were locked open. Between the lack of blinking and the psychological shock, the capillaries in her eyes ruptured. It appears severe, but it's temporary. Most of what you saw was the result of extreme fear. Her mind couldn't process the sudden loss of control, so it shut down into a protective coma."
Yuri sank to her knees, a long, trembling breath escaping her. "Thank God…" she whispered.
"Are you alright, Miss?" the bodyguard asked, stepping forward to steady her.
"I'm fine," Yuri said, wiping her eyes. "I just… I think the strength left my legs the moment the fear did."
The Chairman gave a short nod. "Thank you, Doctor." He extended his hand. "Your name?"
"Thomas. Dr. Thomas," he replied, shaking it firmly.
"Can we see her?" Yuri asked.
The doctor nodded and pushed the door open.
Inside, Madison stared at the ceiling, the image of the boy and her mother still burned into her mind.
So it was just a dream…
The door creaked open. She sat up as the Chairman, Yuri, and Allen entered. Despite the lingering chill of the dream, warmth spread through her chest at the sight of them.
At least… I'm not alone.
Yuri didn't hesitate. She rushed forward, wrapping Madison in a tight embrace. The Chairman stepped in beside them, his hand resting protectively on Madison's head.
"I thought I'd lost you," Yuri choked. "If anything had happened—"
"I'm okay," Madison said softly, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm right here."
Her gaze shifted to Allen, standing quietly at the foot of the bed.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, heavy with rare guilt. "I shouldn't have left you alone."
Madison's expression softened. "It's okay, Allen. I know why you did it. You were trying to protect everyone."
Yuri shot him a sharp glance, but Madison nudged her lightly.
"Don't. It wasn't his fault."
Allen cleared his throat, redirecting the conversation. "The school trip is tomorrow. Are you still planning to go?"
"Yes," Madison replied without hesitation.
The Chairman frowned. "A trip? Now?"
"A week-long excursion for all third-year students," Allen explained. "It's controlled—but it's also where Enzo is planning his next move."
The Chairman studied Madison's face, searching for doubt. Finding none, he gave a slow nod.
"If you're going, I won't stop you. But I have conditions."
He turned to her. "I need to step away briefly. I canceled a high-level meeting with our French clients to be here. I have to manage the consequences."
"Go, Grandpa," Madison said gently. "Focus on the business. I'll be fine."
He hesitated—then patted her hand and turned to Allen.
"Allen. A word."
In the hallway, the Chairman's gaze sharpened.
"I am leaving Madison in your care. Completely," he said. "Do not let there be a second mistake."
Allen straightened, every trace of hesitation gone.
"Yes, sir. I'll give my life before I let them touch her again."
The Chairman's expression softened into a rare, tired smile. He patted Allen's shoulder, then walked away with his bodyguard.
Allen watched him go, something unfamiliar settling in his chest.
He really treats me like family…
By afternoon, Madison was discharged. The ride home was quiet.
"You're going straight to bed," Yuri said firmly, guiding her upstairs. "I'm staying until you fall asleep."
Downstairs, the house fell into silence—broken only by the steady rhythm of a knife against a cutting board.
Allen stood in the kitchen, hands moving with precise efficiency as he prepared a meal.