Chapter 25 Keep Your Apology
The room was still buzzing.
Dr. Harrison was still holding the test tube like it was a holy relic. The family was still staring at Veyra like she had grown a second head. But Eleanor was backing away.
Slowly at first. A step. Then another. Then she turned toward the door.
Veyra saw her.
"Eleanor," she said.
Eleanor froze. Her back was to the room. Her shoulders were tense.
"Where do you think you’re going?" Veyra asked.
Eleanor turned around. Her face was pale. Her smile was gone.
"I’m leaving," Eleanor said. "This is absurd. I don’t have to stand here and listen to this."
"The bet," Veyra said. "We had a bet. You lost. Now you pay up."
Eleanor’s eyes darted around the room. Looking for an exit. Looking for someone to save her.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Eleanor said.
"Yes, you do." Veyra stepped closer. "You accused me of being a liar. A fraud. You said I couldn’t have made that serum. You bet that if I was telling the truth, you would slap yourself in the face. In front of everyone."
Eleanor’s hand went to her cheek. The same cheek she had slapped yesterday. The red mark was still there.
"That was different," Eleanor said.
"How?"
"I was emotional. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You took advantage of me."
Veyra almost laughed. "I took advantage of you? You grabbed my bag. You dumped my things on the floor. You called me a nobody in front of your entire family. And I’m the one who took advantage?"
Eleanor’s face twisted. She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
She turned and ran for the door.
She did not make it.
Her legs gave out halfway across the room. She stumbled. Caught herself on a chair. Then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.
The sound of her body hitting the floor was loud. A heavy thud that echoed off the marble.
The room erupted.
Celeste rushed to her side. Marcus was shouting for help. Richard was fanning her face with his hand. The maids clustered around, their voices high and anxious.
"Get her to bed," Celeste said. "Someone get her to bed. Now."
Two maids bent down to lift Eleanor.
Veyra watched.
Eleanor’s eyelids were fluttering. Her breathing was shallow. Her hand was draped dramatically over her forehead.
Veyra had seen this before. Her mother’s neighbor used to do it when she wanted attention. The faint that wasn’t a faint. The collapse that was really an act.
"She’s faking," Veyra said.
No one listened.
"She’s faking," Veyra said again, louder this time.
Celeste looked up. Her frozen face was hard. "She’s unconscious. Can’t you see that?"
"I can see that her breathing is too steady. Her pulse is too strong. And her eyelids are moving." Veyra pointed. "Someone who’s really unconscious doesn’t flutter their eyes like that."
Eleanor’s eyelids stopped moving.
Veyra smiled. "See?"
The room went quiet.
Then Veyra walked toward Eleanor. She knelt beside her. She pulled a small vial from her bag. The same kind of vial she had used on the old woman.
"This is a stimulant," Veyra said. "It will wake her up immediately. But it might cause some discomfort. A little pain. A little burning. Nothing she can’t handle."
She uncapped the vial.
Eleanor’s eyes snapped open.
"I’m fine!" Eleanor sat up so fast she nearly headbutted Veyra. "I’m fine. I don’t need anything. I’m perfectly fine."
The room stared at her.
Celeste’s mouth was open. Marcus looked like he had swallowed a bug. Richard was still fanning her face, even though she was sitting up.
"I’m fine," Eleanor said again. She scrambled to her feet. "I just felt a little faint. It passed. I’m fine."
Veyra stood up. She capped the vial and put it back in her bag.
"Good," Veyra said. "Then you can honor the bet."
Eleanor’s face went white.
"The bet," Veyra said. "You lost. You owe me an apology. With a slap. In front of everyone."
Eleanor looked around the room. At Celeste. At Marcus. At Richard and finally at the old woman.
"Please," Eleanor said. Her voice was small now. Begging. "Please don’t make me do this."
She was not talking to Veyra. She was talking to the old woman.
"Auntie," Eleanor said, using the old woman’s title. "Please. I was wrong. I made a mistake. But to make me slap myself in front of everyone—it’s too much. Please."
The old woman’s face was unreadable.
"I’ll do anything," Eleanor said. "Anything. Just don’t make me do this. Please."
The room was quiet. Everyone was watching the old woman. Waiting for her decision.
The old woman looked at Veyra. Then she looked at Eleanor.
"She’s right," the old woman said. "The bet was made. The terms were clear."
Eleanor’s face crumbled.
"But," the old woman said, "this is a family matter. We don’t need to air our dirty laundry in front of the servants. Eleanor will apologize. Privately. And that will be the end of it."
Veyra’s heart sank.
"Privately?" Veyra said. "That wasn’t the agreement."
"The agreement was made in the heat of the moment," the old woman said. "I’m being reasonable. An apology is an apology. Public or private, it means the same thing."
"It doesn’t mean the same thing to me."
The old woman’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve proven your point. Everyone knows you were telling the truth. Isn’t that enough?"
"No," Veyra said. "It’s not."
The room went cold.
Veyra looked at the old woman. At Eleanor. At Celeste and Marcus and Richard. At the maids who had chanted crawl your way out.
She understood now.
The truth did not matter. Not to them. Not really. They had already decided who she was. A stranger. An outsider. Someone who did not belong.
She could save lives. She could create medicines that no one else could create. She could prove herself a hundred times over.
And it would never be enough.
"Fine," Veyra said. Her voice was quiet. "Forget the bet."
Eleanor’s face lit up.
"Forget the apology," Veyra said. "Forget the slap. Forget all of it. I’m done."
She turned away. She walked toward the door.
"Veyra—" Dorian’s voice. She did not stop.
"Veyra, wait."
She stopped. She did not turn around.
"What?" she said.
"Come back."
"Why? So that your family can humiliate me again? So your aunt can fake another faint? So your grandmother can tell me my dignity doesn’t matter?"
The room was silent.
Veyra’s hands were shaking. She pressed them against her thighs.
"I saved her life," Veyra said. "I saved your grandmother’s life. And this is how you treat me? This is how your family repays me?"
She turned around. Her eyes were dry. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
"I made that serum. I developed it. I tested it. I spent three years of my life teaching myself medicine because no one else would help me. Because the man I trusted let my mother die. Because the people who were supposed to care about me didn’t."
She looked at the old woman.
"I saved your life. Not for money. Not for status. Not because I wanted anything from you. I saved your life because I could. Because I knew how. Because it was the right thing to do."
The old woman’s face was pale.
"And this is what I get in return." Veyra shook her head. "Accusations. Humiliation. A family that would rather protect one of their own than admit they were wrong."
She looked at Eleanor and Eleanor looked away.
"I’m done," Veyra said. "Keep your apologies. Keep your family. Keep your mansion and your money and your precious reputation. I don’t want any of it."
She turned and walked toward the door.
Eleanor was already moving toward the old woman. Her hand was on the old woman’s wheelchair. She was smiling. Victorious.
"Let her go," Eleanor said. "She’s not worth the trouble. Come, Auntie. Let’s get you back to your room."
The old woman nodded. She looked tired. Old. Smaller than she had been an hour ago.
"Yes," the old woman said. "Take me upstairs."
Eleanor pushed the wheelchair toward the door. Celeste followed. Marcus and Richard fell in behind them.
The maids parted to let them through.
Veyra watched them go. She felt nothing. Not anger. Not sadness. Just a hollow, empty where her heart used to be.
She had lost.
Not the bet. She had won the bet. She had proven herself. She had shown them the truth.
But it did not matter. The truth did not matter. Because they did not want the truth. They wanted to protect themselves. To protect their own. And she was not one of their own. She would never be one of their own.
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
The voice was low. But it cut through the room like a blade.
Everyone stopped.
Dorian was still standing by the window. His arms were crossed and his gray eyes were fixed on his grandmother.
"I said wait," he said again.