Blur of vengeance

CHAPTER ONE

Ivy's POV

"Your father isn't going to survive being in a coma, Miss Ivy," the doctor said, a grave expression on his face.

I closed my eyes and stepped back, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, because it couldn't be good.

"Your father's condition is worsening, and we're struggling to prevent anymore complications. Additionally, the cost of his ongoing care significantly exceeds the payments you've been making," he said, handing me a sheet of test results.

"So, what are you saying? Do I need to pay more?" I asked, feeling my breath hitch at the way he stared at me.

"I think it's best to take him off life support and let him pass on in peace, Miss Ivy," he finally said, and I felt my knees wobble.

"No-no, that cannot happen. There has to be something you can do to save him," I begged, my voice rising as tears pooled in my eyes.

"We've done our very best to save him, Miss Ivy..." he drawled lazily.

"No! You haven't! If you had, I wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be telling me you're unable to save my dad! I've paid every hospital bill, everything, and-and it just cannot happen!" I yelled, slamming my fist against my forehead, wiping the tears trickling down my face.

"Doctor... please, do anything-everything possible to save him. You cannot let him die. I've been here for years!" I begged.

The doctor's gaze softened, but there was still a stubborn professional distance in his eyes. He took a step closer, lowering his voice as if he didn't want the nurses passing by to hear.

"Miss Ivy... there is one way," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Your father's treatment is outdated. The equipment keeping him alive is from a decade ago, and the drugs he's on... they're not strong enough anymore. He needs an upgrade in treatment, a complete change in his care plan. But it would mean moving him to a facility with more advanced resources-better machines, newer medication, specialized staff."

I blinked at him, my lips trembling. "Then why are you just telling me this now?"

He looked away, the weight of guilt in the set of his jaw. "Because those treatments are expensive. More than ten times what you're paying now. And without an immediate transfer, he doesn't have long before-" He stopped himself, the rest of the sentence hanging heavily between us.

My chest heaved. Ten times? I could barely keep up with what I was paying now. My savings were already ashes. "So... either I come up with that money, or I watch him die?"

The doctor didn't answer. His silence was all the confirmation I needed.

"I'll find the money," I whispered, more to myself than to him, even though I had no idea how. "I don't care if I have to sell everything I own... or myself... I'll do it."

Before he could respond, the sudden, sharp beep-beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor tore through the corridor. My blood froze.

We both spun toward my father's room. The monitor wasn't just beeping-it was screaming. Nurses were already rushing inside, their voices tight and urgent.

"Infection spreading fast-pressure's dropping!" one of them shouted.

"What?!" My voice cracked as I stumbled into the room. My father's face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

The doctor shoved past me, barking orders. "Get him prepped for emergency surgery! Now!"

I was shoved to the side as a team swarmed around the bed. My hands shook so hard I could barely grip the door frame.

-And then-his body jerked under the wires. The alarms wailed louder.

The doctor's voice thundered over the chaos. "We're losing him!"

I could only stand there, frozen, watching my father's life dangle by a single, fraying thread. This time, I didn't wipe the tears rolling down my face; I just let them flow, because there was no point holding them in.

The bright, sterile lights of the operating room burned into my eyes as I dragged myself in behind them. Someone tried to stop me, but I shoved past, my chest tight with panic.

"Miss Ivy, you can't-" a nurse started, but I barely heard her over the shrill chorus of machines screaming for his life.

They had already cut away his gown. The sight of my father's frail, motionless body on the table made my knees buckle. Tubes ran from his nose and mouth, his skin clammy and almost gray.

The doctor's voice was sharp, urgent. "We need to get the infection under control before it hits the bloodstream! Increase the antibiotics-now!"

"BP is crashing!" another nurse called out, her eyes darting to the screen.

My breath came in ragged gasps. "Please-please save him-" I whispered, though no one was listening. They were all locked in a desperate rhythm-passing instruments, injecting drugs, wiping sweat from their brows as if time itself was slipping through their fingers.

A sudden, violent spasm racked his body. The heart monitor flatlined for a fraction of a second before climbing back into a weak, erratic rhythm.

"Pulse is unstable! Doctor, he's not responding to-"

"I said keep going!" the doctor barked, sweat dripping down his temple. "If this spreads any further, we'll lose him completely."

My nails dug into my palms until I felt the sting and the coppery smell of blood. Every second felt like a blade carving into me.

Then-his breathing tube clogged. The machine let out a harsh, mechanical choke.

"Airway obstruction!" a nurse yelled.

The doctor's head snapped up. "Scalpel. Now!"

Metal glinted under the light. I stumbled forward, my voice breaking. "What are you doing?!"

"Trying to keep him alive," he shot back without looking at me. "If we don't open his airway now, he'll suffocate before we fix the infection."

The room became a blur-hands moving fast, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the air, my father's life hanging in the balance.

And then, just as the doctor's scalpel touched his skin-

The heart monitor flat-lined.

CHAPTER TWO

Ivy's POV



"No... no... no..." My voice cracked as the flat-line's scream filled the room. "I know that sound too well... that cannot be happening! Nurse!" I slammed my palms against the glass shield, the vibration rattling through my bones.

"You need to calm down, Miss Ivy-"

"I'm not going to relax!" My fists slammed harder, pain biting into my knuckles.

"He's slipping away, and you're asking me to calm down?! Do something!"

Inside, the doctor barked orders with brutal precision. "Get the crash cart-NOW!"

A nurse shoved a tray into his hands, and the next moment, I saw the defibrillator paddles pressed to my father's chest. His limp body jolted under the shock.

"Again!" His chest heaved once more under the current, his head lolling to the side.

"Still nothing!"

"Charge it-clear!"

Another violent jolt. My breath caught. Then-finally-

Beep... beep... beep...

The machine's sound shifted into a shaky, relieving rhythm. My legs gave way, and I slid down the wall, sobbing into my hands.

Minutes blurred before the door opened. The doctor stepped out, mask dangling from his chin, his face drenched with sweat.

"He's stable... for now," he said, his voice low but heavy.

I looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. "For now?"

He exhaled hard, his tone firm. "That infection nearly killed him. We need stronger medication, more advanced monitoring, and that means additional costs-far more than what you're paying now. If you can't make the payment in the next 48 hours, we won't be able to keep up this level of care. He'll be right back where we started... or worse."

My stomach twisted. "By tonight? I don't... I don't have that kind of money!" My voice rose, shaking with desperation. "I've given everything I have already, doctor. You know me, you know I just need to..."

The doctor's gaze didn't waver. "Then you need to find another way. Quickly." And with that, he walked off, leaving me clutching my chest, feeling the air squeeze out of my lungs.

I sank onto the bench outside his room, burying my face in my hands. The hopelessness was suffocating. I couldn't think of anyone else, nothing, my mom...

Yes, I could try my luck and see if anything could happen.

I wiped my tears and pulled my phone out of my pocket, sniffing back the tears that didn't stop rolling down my face.

The phone rang once... twice... thrice, and she picked it up.

"Ivy..." she drawled, her voice sounding as sleek and exotic as ever.

"Mom, please..."

"Oh, please, Ivy, don't tell me you're on the same matter," she responded, sounding tired of me begging over and over for money she'd never given me.

"Mom, please... it's urgent. Please, just this one time, tonight. I'm not going to-"

"I've told you, Ivy, your father's a lost cause. He's been in a coma for three years, and you want me to pay?"

"Mom, please... you have the money. Please, he's dying. I just need to save him tonight, he's-"

"He's already gone in my mind, Ivy," she cut in sharply. "And you should start accepting that. Stop wasting your life and money on a corpse that's breathing through machines."

My heart clenched so painfully I thought it might burst. "How can you even say that? He's your husband!"

"He was my husband," she corrected coldly. "Now, he's... just a body. And I'm not throwing away my savings for your guilt trip."

"Mom, you left him a week after he went into a coma! The company's money, his money, properties... everything was with you, Mom! You took everything!"

"Mom, please!" My voice cracked, and my hands shook as I clutched the phone tighter. "If you don't help me now, tonight will be the last time I ever see him alive. Do you understand that? Please!"

There was a long pause, and for a second, I thought she might give in. But when she finally spoke, her voice was dripping with ice. "Goodbye, Ivy."

The line went dead. "No, Mom... Mom! No!" I begged, falling to the floor again, as if it were me who was dying.

I sat there, staring at my phone like it had betrayed me, until my vision blurred from the tears. A hollow, aching emptiness spread through my chest. I dropped the phone onto my lap and buried my face in my palms, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Ivy..." a soft voice pulled me out of my misery. I lifted my head to find a nurse standing there-the same one I'd seen earlier by my father's bed. She crouched in front of me, her sharp eyes softened with pity.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I heard some of that. It's... a lot for one person to carry." Her voice was smooth, almost coaxing. "You've been fighting for him for years. That kind of love... it's rare."

I shook my head violently, my sobs breaking the rhythm of my words. "Love doesn't matter if I can't keep him alive. They want more money, so much more, and I don't have it. I don't have anything left!"

The nurse sighed-a deep, conflicted sound. She glanced around to ensure no one else was listening, then looked back at me.

"I shouldn't say this," she began, lowering her voice, "and I hate myself for even thinking about it... but you look like you've hit the end of the road."

I sniffled, staring at her through swollen eyes. "What do you mean?"

She reached into the deep pocket of her scrub top, her fingers lingering there as if she were still deciding whether to go through with it. Finally, she pulled out a small black-and-gold card.

"Only for tonight," she said firmly, pressing it into my hand and curling my fingers over it. "Take this to the address on the back. Don't call, just go. Tell them you need money urgently, and they'll... handle it."

I stared at her, confused and wary. "Why are you doing this?"

Her gaze drifted toward my father's room, then back to me. "Because I've seen that look before-the look of someone about to lose everything. This might save him... but it might also change you. Forever."

Another sigh escaped her, heavier this time. "It's your choice, Ivy. If you want to save your father tonight, that's the way. But once you step through that door..." She shook her head. "There's no turning back."

She stood and walked away before I could ask anything else, leaving me with nothing but the weight of the card in my trembling hand.

I looked down at it-gold and black with a strange, bold name printed on the front. Flipping it over, I found an address scrawled in neat handwriting.

And just as my eyes traced the last line, the hospital corridor lights flickered above me.

CHAPTER THREE

Ivy's POV

I sighed and stood, walking ghostlike past the hospital corridor outside.

The cold air gushed harshly at me. I held my hands out to flag down a cab before remembering I didn't have money, nothing at all.

I took another look at the golden card in my hands and typed the name into my search bar.

Sex. Trade. Money.

That was all. I felt my throat constrict at the realization of what the card was for.

To sell myself for money. A trickle of tears fell down my face because, as disgusting as I thought it was, I was considering it.

I clenched the golden card tighter in my hand, my tears blurring the words printed across it. The thought of where it could lead made bile rise in my throat, but the alternative-my father's lifeless body-was worse. Still, there was one last door I could knock on before throwing myself into that darkness.

The Valentinos.

The man my mother had left my father for. A man who had wealth spilling from every corner of his life. If anyone could write the kind of cheque I needed tonight without blinking, it was him. And if my mother still had even the tiniest speck of humanity left, she'd listen.

I stepped out of the hospital's sliding doors, the cold night air slicing against my skin. My arms wrapped around myself as I walked toward the road. When a yellow cab slowed to a stop beside me, I waved halfheartedly.

The driver rolled down the window, his eyes scanning me. "Where you going, miss?"

I hesitated. "Valentino estate. Rosewood Drive."

His brows shot up, as if he weren't expecting that answer. "That's far... you got fare?"

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. "No... but it's an emergency. My father's in the hospital, and-" My voice broke without warning, tears slipping free.

The man's face softened. He sighed, glancing around before waving me in. "Get in before I change my mind."

Relief flooded me. "Thank you... thank you so much."

The ride was quiet except for the occasional sniffle from me. My mind was running in loops-replaying my mother's cold voice over the phone, wondering if she'd even let me through the front door.

By the time we pulled up to the massive wrought-iron gates of the Valentino estate, my stomach was twisted into knots. I stepped out, clutching my coat tighter around me, and approached the guard booth.

One of the men stepped out, blocking my path. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Mrs. Valentino-my mother," I said, forcing my voice to sound steady.

His brows furrowed. "Your mother?" He gave me a slow, skeptical once-over. "She's not expecting visitors. Especially not-"

"I just spoke to her," I cut in quickly, lying without blinking. "She's expecting me. You can call her if you want, but she'll be very upset if you keep me standing out here."

He didn't look convinced. "Ma'am, you need to wait here-"

That was all I needed to hear. I darted past him.

"Hey! Stop! Damn!" he grunted after me.

My legs moved faster than my thoughts. The sound of his heavy boots pounded after me, but I knew this house-every corner, every shortcut-from when I was a little girl chasing butterflies through its halls. I weaved around the side garden, cut through the open terrace, and sprinted through the side hallway.

I was just about to be caught-his shadow loomed close behind-when I threw myself through the archway into the living room.

The warmth hit me first, then the smell of expensive perfume. My mother was there, sitting on a cream velvet couch, surrounded by at least twenty glossy shopping bags from every exotic brand imaginable. A delicate glass of champagne rested in her perfectly manicured hand.

She looked up, startled at first... then her lips curved into a faint smirk.

"Ivy," she drawled, her voice rich with condescension. "How... dramatic."

The guard burst in a second later, panting. "I-I tried to stop her-"

I didn't wait for her to speak. My knees buckled, and I dropped onto the plush carpet in front of her.

"Mom... please. I need your help."

"Ivy, look at me," she said, setting the glass in her hands on the table.

"You called me. We talked about this barely thirty minutes ago, and you think running into this house is going to make me change my mind?" she taunted, lifting my jaw with her finger.

"Mom, please, just this once. I'll handle the rest myself, take care of everything. I just need you to please help me. If I don't get the money before the next 48 hours, Dad's going to be taken off life support. I don't have anything left! Please!" I begged, crawling closer.

"Ivy, stop!" Her husband barked, standing and moving toward me.

"Mr. Valentino..." I rasped, but something else happened. A harsh slap resounded against my cheek, throwing my face sideways.

My eyes burned with hot tears that threatened to spill over. My cheek throbbed, the sting pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

I swallowed, forcing myself not to touch the burning skin. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

My mother leaned back lazily, crossing one leg over the other, her stilettos dangling in the air. "Do you see what you've become, Ivy? On your knees, begging like some stray animal." She let out a low, humorless laugh. "Pathetic."

"Pathetic?" My voice cracked under the weight of my own disbelief. "You left Dad for this-for money-and now you can't even give a fraction of it to save his life?"

Her eyes hardened, her lips curling into something venomous. "You think I owe that man anything? He was weak. And weakness is contagious."

Something inside me broke. I could hear Mr. Valentino muttering something under his breath, but I barely registered it. My entire focus was on the woman in front of me, the woman who had given birth to me but now looked at me like I was a stranger trespassing in her palace.

"I'll pay you back," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Every cent. I'll do anything."

For the first time, her expression shifted-not to kindness, but to something calculating. Her eyes flickered over me in a way that made my stomach churn.

Then she smiled. Slowly. Coldly.

"I don't think I'm the one you should be asking," she said finally. "There are... other ways to get what you need. And from the looks of it..." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "...you already have an invitation."

Her gaze dropped deliberately to the golden card still clutched in my fist.

I froze.

Her lips curved higher, as if she'd just checkmated me in a game I didn't know we were playing.

"I suggest you use it, darling," she said softly, almost like a lullaby. "Because begging me will get you nowhere."

The room spun. My pulse roared in my ears.

And I knew... she'd already decided to let my father die.