Chapter 2

The frosted glass door of the medical room was shoved open with violent force.

Eleanor McConnell stormed in. Her immaculate, custom-tailored Chanel suit didn't have a single wrinkle, but her face was tight with panic.

Her eyes immediately found Diana standing barefoot on the cold marble.

"Diana!" Eleanor gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest.

She crossed the room in three quick strides, the heels of her Louboutins clicking sharply. She grabbed Diana's arms, her grip tight and frantic, trying to pull her away from the machines and back toward the bed.

"What are you doing out of bed? You have a concussion! That's reckless."

Dr. Evans immediately stepped forward, his posture rigid.

"Mrs. McConnell, the young miss seems to be suffering from post-traumatic confusion. She forcefully terminated the blood extraction protocol."

Eleanor stopped pulling. She turned her head slowly. Her perfectly arched eyebrows drew together in a sharp, dangerous line. She glared at the doctor.

Then, her gaze shifted to Jorden still strapped to the chair.

The look on Eleanor's face wasn't just anger. It was pure, unadulterated disgust. She looked at the boy the way one might look at a rat in a Michelin-star kitchen.

"If he is upsetting my daughter, remove him," Eleanor ordered, her voice like cracking ice. "Take this useless thing back to the basement. Now."

Two massive security guards in dark suits immediately pushed their way through the open doorway.

They didn't hesitate. They marched straight to the medical chair. One of them roughly unbuckled the thick leather straps binding Jorden's wrists.

The sudden release of pressure left a raw, angry red welt across the boy's pale skin. Jorden didn't make a sound. His jaw remained locked tight.

The guards grabbed Jorden by the upper arms. They hauled him up from the chair like a sack of dead weight. Jorden's legs, weak from the blood loss, dragged against the floor.

Diana's brain spun.

The novel. The basement. If they locked Jorden in that dark, freezing room now, his hatred would solidify. He would become the monster that eventually tore this family apart and left her bleeding out in an alley.

She couldn't let them take him.

Diana reached out. Her hand clamped down hard on Eleanor's wrist, right over the cold metal of her Cartier diamond watch.

"Mom."

Diana forced her voice to tremble. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood, letting the sharp pain force hot tears into her eyes.

"Mom, please. Don't put him in the basement."

Eleanor froze. She stared down at her adopted daughter, completely stunned. Diana was always the one demanding harsher punishments for the servants.

Diana let out a broken, ragged breath. She made her knees buckle slightly, forcing Eleanor to support her weight.

"The blood..." Diana whimpered, her fingers digging into Eleanor's expensive sleeve. "There was so much blood in the tube. I woke up and it was right there. It made me so dizzy. Dr. Evans wouldn't stop when I asked him to. He scared me."

She pointed a trembling finger at the doctor.

Dr. Evans's face drained of color. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Mrs. McConnell, I assure you, it was standard procedure-"

Eleanor didn't let him finish. She spun on the doctor, her maternal panic instantly morphing into vicious rage.

"You terrified her!" Eleanor screamed, her voice echoing off the tile walls. "She just fell down a flight of stairs, and you subject her to a slaughterhouse display? Are you completely incompetent?"

Dr. Evans took a step back, raising his hands in defense. "Ma'am, the medical proxy states-"

"I don't care what the proxy states!" Eleanor snapped, smoothing the edge of her Chanel jacket with shaking hands.

Diana didn't give the doctor a chance to recover. She looked at Jorden, who was still suspended between the two massive guards.

"Let him go to the guest room on the south wing," Diana whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt today. Please, Mom. It will just give me nightmares."

The guards stopped moving. They looked at Eleanor, waiting for the final command.

Eleanor frowned. The south wing guest rooms were for actual humans, not biological assets. But she looked down at Diana's pale, tear-stained face and the bandage on her head.

Eleanor sighed, waving her hand dismissively at the guards. "Fine. Put him in the guest room. Just get him out of her sight."

The guards immediately let go.

Without their support, Jorden collapsed. His shoulder slammed hard against the metal doorframe with a sickening thud.

He slumped to the floor. His head bowed, his dark hair falling over his eyes.

But in that split second before he looked down, he quickly ducked his head, hiding his face behind his dark, unruly bangs and completely shielding whatever emotions flickered in his eyes.

When he slowly raised his head again, any hint of reaction was completely buried. He looked at Diana with the familiar, pathetic, trembling gaze of a broken victim, offering nothing but hollow submission.

Before Diana could process the shift, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway.

The head butler appeared in the doorway, his usual composed face slick with sweat.

"Madam," the butler gasped, out of breath. "The police are downstairs in the lobby. And they brought agents from Child Protective Services."