Ruby, as if she had finally worn herself out, gestured for the bodyguards to let Micah go. She raised her foot and brought it down hard on his bruised face, her expression feigning pity.

She scornfully remarked, "See? Even your father didn't want you. How tragic."

The elevator doors slowly slid shut. Only Micah remained, his small frame curled tight against the cold tile floor.

I dropped to my knees beside him, knowing that it was hopeless but still trying to lift him anyway. It was completely useless.

The hospital doors were already closed. No one would dare help Micah without Walter's permission.

The blood at the corner of Micah's lips dried. His eyelids fluttered weakly, but he couldn't open them. Only the plastic-covered blanket in his arms made a soft, crinkling sound.

The guardian angel pendant he always wore around his neck was gone, lost somewhere. Only a pale line remained where the chain had rested, the last trace that someone had once loved him.

I didn't know how long I knelt there or how long I cried. Eventually, the ache in my chest dulled, and my tears ran dry. Just when I thought it was all over, Walter came down.

The sharp click of his handmade leather shoes against the floor rang out. He stepped into the center of the lobby and fixed his gaze on Micah's motionless form, his expression unreadable.

"Are you done with your act? Are you trying to illicit sympathy just like how Nadia taught you? Did you actually think that I'd break just because you're playing helpless? Keep dreaming!"

Walter's icy voice cut through me, each word a knife twisting deeper into my heart.

I wanted to snap, "Are you even human? How dare you talk about Micah this way! He's kind, thoughtful, and…"

Tears spilled fast, streaking down Micah's face. I wasn't certain whether I'd actually seen it or just imagined it, but his lashes faintly fluttered.

Walter kept ranting, but when Micah stayed still, a flicker of doubt finally tightened his expression. He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Micah.

"Micah? Why aren't you answering me? I know what you're up to. Cut the act."

Walter's tone grew more menacing with each word, his footsteps quicker with every step. Just as he was about to reach Micah, the latter's hand twitched.

Walter halted. The panic on his face hardened into anger. He was sure that this was another trick. He yanked out his phone, snapped photos of Micah, and sent them to me.

He texted, "Nadia, you've gotten smart, haven't you? First, you fake it yourself, and now, you're teaching Micah how to put on an act? Fine. If you want him to play along, we'll see who cracks first!"

After sending the message, Walter turned. He briefly hesitated before walking off without sparing a second glance.

Silence settled over the lobby once more before Micah managed to open his eyes. He coughed, each cough laced with blood. He didn't fully wake until he saw scarlet drops staining the plastic bag he held.

Struggling to his feet, he carefully pressed the blanket to his chest and grinned weakly, his lip split and swollen. While holding the blanket, he stumbled down the hallway to where my bed stood.

When his fingers met my cold flesh, he paused. Summoning the last ounce of his strength, he unfolded the blanket and laid it over me.

"Mom, there… now you'll be warm."

Then, his body gave out, and darkness took him.

…

The next day, a medical intern's scream pierced the hospital. "Someone help! There's a dead patient in here!"

Hearing the commotion, Walter pushed through the crowd, irritated. "Break it up! If any of you disturb Ruby, I'll—"

His voice died when his eyes locked onto my body on the hospital bed, and Micah slumped over me, his breathing shallow. Walter's face went pale.