The next day
After taking care of her morning routine, Ana decided to visit Kimberly as she has requested. After the incident where she helped her, Kimberly no longer treated with cold contempt and they seem to get along well. She realized that the young lady wasn't as bad as she had thought.
To her surprise, Kimberly was calm and composed today—no tantrums, no biting words to the servants. Her mood looked improved.
"Good morning," Ana greeted.
Kimberly nodded in response.
As they began to chat, Ana found herself genuinely enjoying their conversation. They had more in common than she had imagined. Both loved painting. Ana had majored in art before dropping out, and Kimberly before the accident had once been passionate about it.
Ana looked toward the window, her curiosity piqued. "Why are those curtains always closed?"
There was a long silence.
Kimberly stared at the heavy drapes. "I don't want to see the sun."
Ana frowned. "You don't like the sun?"
"It's too bright," she whispered. "It reminds me of everything I lost. I feel... envious."
Then, she said something that chilled Ana to her core.
"I haven't seen it in ten years."
Ana's eyes widened. Ten years? She hadn't felt sunlight on her skin in a decade?
Her heart ached.
"Do you want to see it?" Ana asked gently. "Not just see it but feel it?"
Kimberly bit her lip, refusing to respond.
"It's not your fault, Kimberly," Ana said softly. "You're still alive. And because you are, you have the right to live again. To fight. To come out of the darkness."
Those words pierced the armor Kimberly had built around herself for years. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the dam inside her broke.
"If I hadn't forced them to take me out that day… maybe Mama and Papa would still be alive," she sobbed. "It should have been me. I should've died."
Ana hugged her gently, stroking her hair as she wept.
"No," she whispered. "It wasn't your fault. You were a child. You didn't know."
For years, Kimberly had punished herself refused treatment, avoided people, and stayed shut in that room. Her mother had died shielding her during the car crash, and the guilt had consumed her since.
After a long while, her sobs quieted.
Standing up, Ana walked to the window and turned to her. "Are you ready?"
Kimberly hesitated, then nodded.
Ana called the maids. Together, they pulled at the heavy curtains until they came down in a dramatic sweep.
Sunlight spilled into the room, golden and warm, filling every corner with life.
Kimberly gasped.
Outside the window lay a breathtaking sight: a sprawling flower valley, blooming in radiant colors. Hundreds of exotic flowers, each unique in shape and hue, arranged in a perfect formation that spelled her name; KIMBERLY.
Tears filled her eyes as memories came rushing back. Her childhood. Her father ordering the flowers because of her obsession. Her mother tending to them every morning.
Harry had maintained the garden all these years.
"Do you want to go out?" Ana asked softly.
"Can… can I?" Kimberly's voice trembled.
Ana smiled. "Yes. Let's start by opening the door."
Strapped securely into her custom wheelchair, Kimberly blinked against the sunlight as Ana carefully pushed her into the Fairchild garden. The golden rays kissed her pale cheeks, and for the first time in what felt like forever, warmth seeped into her bones. A breeze carrying the scent of blooming roses and hibiscus stirred the strands of her hair, and she breathed it in deeply.
She was silent for a long while, her eyes fixed on the flowering bushes and the tall trees that lined the stone path.
Then, like a mirage rising from the earth, Kimberly saw a version of herself; young, healthy, laughing and darting barefoot through the garden in a yellow dress, her parents watching from the wrought iron bench under the tree. Her father with his arm around her mother, their faces aglow with joy.
It was the last happy memory she had of them.
Tears shimmered in her eyes. "That day… was my ninth birthday," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "I remember wishing for time to stop right there. Before the accident. Before the pain."
Ana knelt beside her, resting a gentle hand on her arm. "They would be proud of you, Kimberly."
Kimberly looked down at her paralyzed body. "Would they? Look at me."
"I am," Ana said softly. "And I see strength."
For the first time, the venom in Kimberly's expression eased, and together they sat in the garden, Kimberly sharing stories of her childhood, of pony rides, her favorite strawberry cake, her first violin recital. Ana listened with patience, offering laughter and tears in all the right places. In that quiet, healing hour, something shifted between them. An invisible wound began to close.
Fairchild Corporation – Executive Tower
At the Fairchild headquarters, the glass doors burst open and chaos followed.
A tall, breathtaking woman strode confidently to the reception desk, clad in a curve-hugging, limited-edition haute couture dress. Her flawless makeup sparkled under the lights. She oozed confidence, arrogance, and an unmistakable aura of pedigree.
"I want to see Mr. Fairchild," she said curtly.
"I'm sorry, miss," the receptionist replied, taken aback. "You need an appointment...."
"I don't need an appointment," the woman said, her red lips curling into a haughty smirk. "I am Soraya. Tell him his darling has arrived."
Before the stunned receptionist could protest again, one of Harry's assistants emerged and quickly intervened.
"It's fine," he said to the receptionist with a nervous smile. "I'll take her."
Harry Zelkowicz was buried in files when the door swung open without warning.
"Hello, my darling. I've finally landed," came the sultry voice. "Did you miss me?"
His pen froze mid-signature. Slowly, he looked up. His expression turned frosty.
"Who let you in here?" he asked icily.
The assistant behind Soraya shrank. "Sir, I saw Miss Soraya downstairs, so I thought..."
"You're fired. Get out."
The assistant stammered, then left in silent dread.
Soraya pouted. "Must you be so cruel? That was a slap to my face. I'm still your friend, remember?"
"You don't belong here, Soraya. Why are you back?"
She dropped the act, sauntering closer. "Because I missed you, Harry. And because I know your marriage to Sasha is a facade. I haven't forgotten what we were."
"You're mistaken," he said without looking at her. "Whatever we were… is gone."
"Oh, Harry," she sighed. "You're still as cold as ever. I was gone for years. You didn't even write once."
They had a history. She was the goddaughter of his parents, practically raised at the Fairchild lake house. Their childhoods intertwined in affection, and she had always believed she would one day become his wife. But the accident, the forced betrothal to Sasha, everything changed. Now she had returned, determined to reclaim what she believed was rightfully hers.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said with a flirtatious grin, throwing herself onto the office couch. "And I'm coming back to the mansion with you."
Harry ignored her completely, his focus already elsewhere. The only woman who ever stirred his heart was not the one purring on his couch.
Fairchild Mansion – That Night
Ana stood outside, anxiously wringing her hands. The night was quiet, save for the rustle of wind through the trees. When the sound of tires crunching gravel reached her ears, her heart leapt.
Harry had returned.
She took a step forward, hope dancing in her eyes, only to freeze as another figure emerged from the shadows behind him.
Soraya.
"Harry, wait for me!" the woman called, rushing up to him, tears clinging to her lashes. Before he could react, she clung to his arm, nestling herself against him with familiarity that sent a sharp blade into Ana's chest.
He tried to pull away, glaring down at Soraya. But she smiled shamelessly and clutched him tighter.
From the porch, Ana watched in silent devastation.
"Who's that?" Soraya asked, noticing her.
Harry turned and saw Ana's shattered face just before she spun around and fled.
He shoved Soraya away and raced after her.