Crippled By The Fake Heiress — And She Regretted It Chapter 02
On the twelfth floor, at the rehabilitation center, I lay on the bed and let the doctor administer the anesthesia.
Then, hovering between sleep and wakefulness, I heard my parents talking to the doctor.
“Miss Valentina’s leg treatment has been delayed far too long. If she doesn’t have surgery soon, she truly will never walk again.”
“The previous rehabilitation sessions were only done halfway, and the medication was switched to vitamins as per your instructions.”
“Mr. Scarla, are you really going to stand by and watch Miss Valentina—so young—never stand on her own two feet again?”
“I paid a fortune to bring you back from overseas, not to ask me these pointless questions. Just do as I say!”
Don Scarla’s voice was severe.
Donna chimed in from beside him: “So what if she can’t walk? We can provide for her for the rest of her life. Since when is it an outsider’s place to worry about that?”
“And don’t forget who’s been paying your salary these past five years. Don’t start thinking you actually work for this hospital.”
The doctor quickly replied, “No, what I mean is—Miss Valentina has been receiving anesthesia for so many years, she may eventually develop a tolerance. What do we do then?”
“That’s your problem to figure out. Just make sure her leg doesn’t improve but doesn’t deteriorate either. You find the right balance.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door opened and my parents walked out.
I lay on that bed as though trapped in a frozen hell.
They didn’t know—I had already begun developing immunity to the anesthesia. I could hear every word they said. And I’d recorded all of it.
So to maintain their deception, they’d gone so far as to hire a doctor from overseas and kept him on the payroll for five years. No wonder the “rehabilitation center” was tucked away on the twelfth floor of the inpatient wing—it was all a sham.
A searing pain spread through my chest. Tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes.
After the “treatment” ended, my parents attentively wheeled me home. Alessio—who just two hours ago had been cozying up with Gina at the hospital—greeted us at the door in an apron.
“Honey, rehab must be so exhausting. I made bone broth for you—drink it and you’ll recover faster!”
His eyes were full of tenderness and care, as though he were still the good man who’d said he loved me, who’d promised to look after me forever.
If I hadn’t seen him with Gina at the hospital with my own eyes. If I hadn’t heard the things they said—I surely would have been touched.
But in that moment, all I could see was how fake his smile was. The person he loved had never been me. It was the woman who’d shattered my leg.
To issue a victim’s pardon on her behalf, he’d even been willing to sacrifice his own marriage—feigning love for me. He’d even had a son with her.
At dinner that evening, Donna suddenly looked at the dishes on the table, her eyes rimming red, and began to cry. Alessio immediately set down his chopsticks and asked what was wrong.
Don Scarla rubbed her back gently and sighed.
“Your mother probably saw Gina’s favorite dishes and started missing her.”
“That child—she made mistakes, yes, but we raised her for over a decade. She didn’t deserve to die…”
Sensing them watching my reaction, a bitter taste rose in my throat.
Didn’t deserve to die? So sacrificing me for her sake was acceptable? Was it my fault?
“Honey, it’s been five years. Gina was only twenty at the time—she was probably just confused and impulsive when she did it.”
“I grew up with her. She had an extreme personality and convinced herself you were trying to steal everything from her.”
“Her memorial is in five days. I know you don’t want to go. I’ll take Mom and Dad to visit her grave—is that okay?”
Alessio’s eyes were apprehensive, as if he feared I might suddenly lose my temper.
“Sure. Go ahead. She lived in this family longer than I did. It’s only natural you’d have feelings for her.”
My response was flat and indifferent.
Alessio relaxed, his tone growing even gentler. “Honey, I knew you were too kindhearted to hold a grudge against your late sister.”
Donna dabbed her tears. “Good girl. Blood really is thicker—our own daughter is so much more sensible.”
I buried my face in my bowl and let the tears fall.
So they did know I was the biological one, after all.
A sharp cramp twisted in my stomach. I excused myself, saying I felt unwell, and went back to the bedroom. Alessio brought in a cup of stomach medicine, his eyes full of worry and tenderness.
Seeing I didn’t want to talk, he silently fetched warm water and wiped my face with his own hands. In the ten years since I’d been brought home, his eyes had held only me.
Even when Gina had confessed her feelings for him, all she got was his cold rejection.
Now I finally understood.
He hadn’t liked me. He’d simply wanted to marry the future heir of the Scarla family. His love and his marriage were two entirely separate things.