Chapter 32
Violet's POV
"Ethan, forget it..." Sienna, who had been hiding in Ethan's arms, suddenly spoke up.
She gently tugged at Ethan's sleeve, her face with its delicate natural makeup full of grievance and tolerance.
She used that extremely weak voice to put on a magnanimous, compassionate appearance: "This is a hospital, people are coming and going. Don't make it too hard for her. If Violet really hates me that much, it's okay if I suffer a little grievance. As long as she can feel better in her heart, this hand of mine... even if it's ruined, it's worth it."
As she spoke, she very deliberately lifted that bandaged hand, her eyes filling with tears right on cue.
Watching her put on such an over-the-top hypocritical act, I couldn’t hold back and let out a cold, sarcastic laugh.
"Sienna, your acting skills are really wasted not being in Hollywood." I mercilessly pierced through her fake mask, my eyes full of mockery, "Mount Sinai's orthopedics may be very authoritative, but I suggest you also register at the psychiatry department. Having such thick skin as yours might be a medical miracle."
"You!" The weakness on Sienna's face instantly showed a crack, but she quickly covered it up.
Her tears fell even harder. She bit her lower lip hard, her voice trembling as she accused me: "Violet, how can you say that about me? I know you're jealous of me, jealous that Ethan loves me, jealous that I can easily get the resources you desperately want... but you can't become this vicious just because of jealousy!"
This accusation that turned black into white was like a fire that completely ignited Ethan's fury.
"Violet! You're simply unreasonable!" Ethan suddenly let go of the suitcase handle, stepped forward, and firmly shielded Sienna behind him.
The way he looked at me was like looking at garbage emitting a foul smell, "Sienna kindly gave you a way out, and not only do you show no remorse, you're here being sarcastic! A woman with a twisted psychology like you doesn't deserve to play the violin at all!"
Looking at Ethan's face twisted with anger, I suddenly felt incredibly tired.
I had been so blind to have once fallen in love with such a stupid, arrogant man who couldn't even distinguish basic right from wrong. Now, in my eyes, he wasn't even worth as much as a stranger.
I no longer cared about his opinion at all, nor did I want to continue entangling with these two clowns.
"Finished?" I looked at him with a completely blank expression, my voice eerily calm. "If you are, get out of my way. Decent dogs don’t stand blocking people’s path."
I gripped the suitcase handle again, preparing to squeeze past him.
However, Ethan, like a wall, suddenly stepped across, spreading his arms to firmly block my path.
"Want to leave?" Ethan's eyes were sinister to the extreme, staring at me through gritted teeth, "Today, without making things clear and apologizing to Sienna, don't even think about walking out this door!"
"Get out of the way!" I gritted my teeth and, unable to bear it any longer, reached out to push his chest.
In the struggle, my already loose coat collar was suddenly pulled to one side.
The marks left from being roughly handled in that dark alley were exposed without any cover under the bright lights of the hospital lobby.
My collarbone and fair neck were covered with shocking purple and blue finger marks.
At the same time, as I pushed him forcefully, the scabbed abrasion on the back of my hand reopened, oozing a trace of bright red blood.
Ethan's movements suddenly froze.
His dark brown pupils suddenly contracted, his gaze fixed deadly on the bruises on my neck.
In that instant, a crack appeared in the high-and-mighty arrogance on his face. He instinctively reached back to grab my wrist, his brows tightly knitted together.
"What happened to your injuries?" Ethan's voice actually contained a trace of tension he himself hadn't noticed, "Who did this? Why is it so serious?"
Seeing his sudden "deep affection" appearance, I only felt incredibly absurd and ridiculous.
That night when I was cornered into a dead-end alley by three thugs in the Brooklyn cold wind and desperately called him for help, he cold-bloodedly hung up the phone, convinced I was lying.
Now, seeing these injuries with his own eyes, he put on a condescending caring attitude.
"Don't touch me!" I forcefully shook off his hand, my eyes as cold as looking at a pile of disgusting garbage, "My life or death has nothing to do with you. Put away your cheap sympathy, Ethan. It only makes me feel sick."
Sienna immediately stepped forward, hooking Ethan's arm again and pulling him back to her side.
"Oh my God, Violet, you're absolutely terrifying!" Sienna dramatically covered her mouth and gasped, her voice shrill enough for people several meters around to hear, "To get Ethan's attention, to make him feel sorry for you, you actually did this to yourself on purpose? Self-harming to gain sympathy—do you have any shame left?"
This statement that turned black into white absolutely broke the lower limit of human shamelessness.
But what was even more tragic was that Ethan actually believed it.
Sienna's words were like a key, instantly closing the tiny bit of conscience Ethan had just opened.
The worry in his eyes disappeared in an instant, replaced by even deeper disgust and contempt.
"Sienna's right." Ethan sneered coldly, looking down at me as if looking at a clown, "Violet, you're really unscrupulous. To force me to compromise, you'd even use the victim act? You think making yourself covered in injuries will make me let you off? A scheming woman like you absolutely turns my stomach."
I stood there, looking at this couple who were directing and acting in their own self-indulgent drama, not even bothering to save the energy to refute.
Arguing with two idiots with incomplete brain development would only lower my own intelligence.
"Think whatever you want." I walked around them expressionlessly, dragging my suitcase, heading straight toward the hospital lobby's payment counter without looking back.
I stopped at the payment window and handed over my identification.
"Miss Kane, hello." The nurse at the front desk typed on the computer a few times, then took out a thick white envelope from the drawer and handed it to me with both hands, "This is the balance of the hospitalization fees Mr. Hall prepaid for you. He instructed that if you check out early and there's a balance, the money should be returned directly to you."
I held that heavy envelope, which contained a stack of crisp bills.
Julian was always like this, arranging everything without a single gap, even thinking about such a small matter as refunds for me.
I carefully put the envelope in my backpack, turned, and walked out of Mount Sinai Hospital's revolving glass doors.
The Manhattan cold wind blew on my face, but I felt unprecedentedly clear-headed.
Moving back to the music academy dormitory went more smoothly than I had imagined.
The dorm supervisor, seeing me return, simply verified my information and handed me the key to the double room I had during my freshman year.