Chapter5 When Jewel Whitmore woke again, she was lying in a hospital bed. "Jewel," Grayson Sloane said gently, setting a steaming cup of water by her side, "that man was drunk last night. He made a mistake. I've already had his legs broken and his arms snapped. You don't have to worry, he'll never touch you again." His tone was soft, his face as tender as ever. But Jewel's heart twisted. The memory of what he and Weston had orchestrated left her raw with grief. "Grayson," she whispered hoarsely, "why didn't you hand him over to the police? He knew my identity. He knew my photos were all over the feeds. In Harbor City, someone had to have sent him." A shadow of impatience crossed Grayson's face. "Stop imagining conspiracies. It was an accident, nothing more. Besides..." He paused, as if suddenly remembering. "Ivy collapsed earlier. Emotional stress. The doctors say it's acute liver failure causing anemia. She needs a transfusion. Your blood type matches hers. O-negative. They're asking for about eight hundred milliliters." Jewel's body went cold. So that was it. So that was why he had shown up in time to "save" her. Not for her. For Ivy. "It has to be now. She can't wait." Grayson signaled with his eyes. Nurses hurried forward, pinning Jewel down as needles pierced her arm. Her vision darkened as the blood drained away. Halfway through, one nurse panicked. "Doctor Sloane, her vitals are unstable. She's too anemic already. Forcing this could put her life in danger. Should we stop?" "No!" Grayson barked. "Switch to manual. Every minute lost puts Ivy closer to death." He shoved the nurse aside, seized a syringe thicker than his thumb, and began drawing her blood himself, tube after tube, merciless. Jewel watched her life pour out in scarlet streams. Pain and sorrow drowned her like a tidal wave. This was the brother who had once sworn to protect her for life. The brother who knew she had battled anemia since childhood. And still, he drained her dry, over and over again. When at last he was satisfied, he handed the filled tubes to the nurses, his face bright with relief. "Take it to Ivy." The nurses departed. Only then did Grayson glance at Jewel, limp and pale, her eyes closed in exhaustion. "Jewel," his voice softened again, melting back into that familiar, doting tone, "I know this wrongs you. But you've lived in Ivy's place for so many years. Think of it as paying back a little interest, hmm?" He brushed his hand across her blanket like a fond caress. "Get some rest. Don't think about the photos online. Your brother will handle it." And without waiting for a reply, he left the ward. When the door clicked shut, Jewel opened her eyes. The blank white walls pressed down on her like a coffin. Grief, disappointment, and icy clarity rose in her chest. At last, she saw the truth. she could expect nothing from Weston or Grayson ever again. She had to leave. Far from Weston Vale. Far from Grayson Sloane. Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone. She dialed the one number she could still trust. "Twenty years of debt, twenty years of affection, I've repaid it all," she said in a low, steady voice. "How soon can I get out?" "Ten days," came the answer.