Elara had already braced herself for Fiona’s harsh words. Still, Jason had been injured trying to save her; for that alone, she knew she ought to bear whatever accusations Fiona hurled her way today.
She lowered her gaze, offering no defense for herself.
Just as she steeled herself for crueler insults, Zane stepped forward and placed himself between Elara and Fiona. “It was an accident—no one wanted this to happen. Please, try to stay calm.”
“Zane,” Fiona’s voice cracked with anguish, “he’s my only son. He means everything to me. Now he’s lying here because of her, and you tell me to calm down?”
“Fiona,” Victor interjected in his steady, deliberate tone, “this isn’t the place for this. Don’t lose your composure in front of everyone.”
Fiona grew even more agitated, seeing Victor take Elara’s side.
“Composure? My son’s like this and you want me to keep my composure? That woman is nothing but a curse—a temptress—”
Suddenly, a weak voice called out from the hospital bed, “Mom, how can you talk about my fiancée that way?”
Everyone froze, turning in unison toward the bed.
Jason had woken up at some point. He turned his head slightly, frowning at his mother.
“Jason! Oh, thank God, you’re awake!” Fiona rushed to his side, relief washing over her features.
But Jason sat up on his own and even removed his oxygen mask. He reached for his IV, but, catching sight of Elara, seemed to think better of yanking it out and stopped himself—perhaps not wanting to alarm her with the sight of blood.
The whole room watched in stunned silence.
“Jason, you’re badly hurt. Please, lie down. I’ll call the doctor right away,” Fiona pleaded.
Jason looked at her calmly. “Mom, I’m fine. But you shouldn’t speak to my fiancée like that.”
Fiona stared at him, dumbfounded.


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