The Disgraced Teacher's Ruthless Return

lia

ain with surgical precision. Each day brought small, miraculous improvements. He was weak, still struggling with speech

bly dressed, but with a slight, artfully cultivated weariness around his eyes. He wanted

ed them on the bedside table, then turned to me, his gaze ostensibly filled w

father's frail hand. Gilbert, still haz

ow things ended for you, for all of us, ten years ago. I was young, ambitious... blind. I let my desire for success

"let" ambition overshadow anything; he had actively chosen it, sacrificed me and my father on the altar of

ts don't change anything, Cameron. But thank

"I want to do more," he insisted, his eyes holding mine. "I

ing journalists with flashing cameras, swept into the room.

his side, her arm immediately linking with his. She squeezed his bicep dramatically. "And Emilia!

as decided to launch the 'Hardin Medical Relief Fund' in Gilbert's honor, to help other families facing devastating medical costs." She turned back to me, her eyes shining with fake since

frail patient, and me, the "grateful" recipient of their charity. My face burned with humiliation.

him. For his sake, I clamped down on my fury, forcing my expression to remain

line blared. Cameron was lauded as a compassionate hero, and I was portrayed as the woman he had selflessly saved, my past indisc

, my phone r

e beginning. We'll slowly reintroduce you. A few strategic interviews, maybe a

aid, my voice cold, devoid of the emotion that raged

ontinued care, his physical therapy, his medication... that's a long road. And an expensive one." Hi

ding my father hostage, using his recovery as a leash to co

... presence... too much today? I can talk to her, if you prefer less interaction." He w

said, my voice barely a whisp

d, and then, with a

ss" was a weapon, his concern a cage. I was trapped, a gilded prisoner in his carefully constructed narrative, my fat