Chapter 211

Chapter 211
Elora

"Remember the deal you made with my father?" he says casually, leaning against the wall. "He promised you the best psoriasis treatment available. World-class specialists. Cutting-edge therapy. All of it."

The memory comes back in a rush—the gala, Richard Rhodes's cold, calculating voice, the promise of a cure in exchange for throwing the match against Beatrice.

But I refused. I beat Beatrice fair and square. By all logic, Richard had no reason to honor his end of the deal.

But now…

"I didn't agree to this," I say slowly, my voice tight.

Cade shrugs. "No. But I did."

I stare at him, my confusion quickly turning to irritation. "You what?"

"I made the decision for you," he says, as if it's the most reasonable thing in the world. "While you were unconscious."

"Why the hell would you do that?" I snap, my voice rising. "Did you—did you think I wanted this? That I was ashamed of my scars?"

He meets my gaze evenly, unflinching. "No. I know you're not ashamed anymore. You proved that when you walked onto the ice in that backless dress and didn't flinch when everyone stared."

"Then why?"

"Because you keep getting hurt," he says simply. "Every time I turn around, there's a new scar. A new wound. And I'm tired of watching you bleed, Elora. I'm tired of seeing you in pain."

His voice softens, and for a moment, the mask he always wears—the cocky, untouchable heir—cracks just enough for me to see the exhaustion underneath.

"I know you don't need the treatment," he continues. "I know you're strong enough to live with the scars. But if there was a chance to take away even a fraction of that pain, I wasn't going to let it slip by. And besides—" He smirks faintly. "If you woke up and found out I didn't take the opportunity, you'd probably kill me."

I want to stay mad at him. I really do. But the way he's looking at me—like I'm something fragile and precious that he's terrified of breaking—makes it impossible.

I huff, crossing my arms. "Fine. But if I ever decide I want the scars back, I'm blaming you."

He grins. "Deal."

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way my muscles protest. "Now help me up. I need to start moving, or I'm going to go insane."

Cade steps forward, catching me by the waist before I can stand. "Slow down, Ice Queen. You've been out for ten days. Your body needs time to adjust."

"I don't have time," I mutter, but I let him steady me anyway.

He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a way that's more comforting than restrictive. I feel his chin rest lightly on the top of my head, and for a moment, I let myself relax into him.

"God," he murmurs, his voice low. "It's been a nightmare these past ten days. One crisis after another. I forgot what it felt like to just… hold you."

My face heats up despite myself. "We're in a hospital, Cade."

"So?" He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his smirk firmly back in place. "I'm still your boyfriend."

I roll my eyes. "Fake boyfriend. With a contract. That has an expiration date."

"Easily fixable," he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. "We could make it permanent."

Before I can respond—before I can even process what he just said—there's a deliberate cough from the doorway.

I turn my head and see Grandmother, Marco, and Giulia standing there, all three of them wearing varying degrees of amusement.

Cade immediately releases me, stepping back with the kind of smooth, practiced ease that makes it look like we weren't just wrapped around each other.

"I'll come back later," he says, shooting me a quick grin before slipping past my family and out the door.

The moment he's gone, Grandmother sweeps into the room, her eyes scanning me from head to toe with the sharp precision of someone used to assessing every detail.

"You look better," she says briskly, settling into the chair Cade just vacated. "Still pale, but better."

Marco and Giulia follow her in, both of them smiling as they take up positions on either side of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Marco asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

"Sore," I admit. "But okay. What did I miss?"

Grandmother's expression shifts, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Quite a bit, actually. But first—" She leans forward slightly, her gaze sharpening. "You and Cade. How serious is that?"

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. "I—what?"

Marco chuckles. "Come on, Elora. We all saw the way he was looking at you just now. And considering the Rhodes family just finished dismantling the Vipers and cleaned house internally, they're more powerful than ever. Richard's not just in the cabinet now—he's one of the most influential voices in it."

I stare at him, my brain struggling to keep up. "Wait. The Vipers are gone?"

Giulia nods enthusiastically. "Completely wiped out. The day after you went into surgery, Richard led a full-scale raid. Military backup, hundreds of armed officers—the whole nine yards. The Vipers didn't stand a chance. Their leader's dead, their operations dismantled, and all their assets seized."

I feel a chill run down my spine. "How many people died?"

Giulia shrugs. "Not as many as you'd think. The leadership was taken out, sure. But most of the foot soldiers just… scattered. Changed their names, joined other gangs. Business as usual."

I frown. "So the gang's gone, but the people aren't?"

Marco spreads his hands. "That's politics, Elora. You take down one organization, and another rises to fill the void. But for now, the Vipers are history. And that's a win for Richard."

I process this slowly, the cynicism of it settling over me like a heavy blanket. Part of me understands how this world works—the pragmatism, the transactional shuffling of power and people. I've lived in it long enough to recognize the patterns. But the fact that I'm so comfortable with this logic makes something uncomfortable twist in my chest.

"What about Victoria?"

I feel… nothing. No relief. No satisfaction. Just a hollow sense of finality.

"It's over," I say quietly, more to myself than anyone else. "Sienna. Victoria. All of it."

"Yes," Grandmother says firmly. "And now you can focus on what matters. Your competition. Your career. Your future."

I nod slowly, the weight of the past few weeks finally starting to lift.

Three days.

I have three days to get back on the ice and prove I'm ready for nationals.

Three days to reclaim my life.