Naomi shook with rage, but James grabbed her wrist.

  "Shut up."

  "What?! That bitch—"

  "Do you not understand?! The car she drove in is worth millions. Look at her outfit, her demeanor—she has power."

  The reality hit Naomi like a slap. Her breath hitched. "Then… then what do we do?!" Her voice wasn’t as loud anymore. For the first time, real fear crept into her eyes. "How the hell does that bastard Atticus know someone like her?!"

  James had no answer. "How should I know? Let's go to the hospital!"

  Atticus was rushed straight into the emergency room. Clarissa sat outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. James, Naomi, and Jasper lingered a few feet away, unnerved by the cold detachment on her face.

  And then—she spoke. "The hospital will issue a full report." Her voice was calm. Deadly. "There are plenty of students at the school who can testify. You forced Atticus to drop out despite receiving full subsidies for his care. You beat him. Starved him. Locked him in a goddamn doghouse."

  Her gaze landed on James. "With all this evidence—plus the abuse report—I can have you in jail within twenty-four hours."

  James’ entire body trembled. Naomi went white as a sheet.

  Naomi clung to James, voice shrill and panicked. "You can’t let my husband go to jail! How can you be so cruel? Do you want Jasper and me to die too?!"

  James saw the determination in her eyes. His bravado crumbled instantly. He dropped his head, his voice turning pleading. "I was wrong. I—I wasn’t thinking. I was just in a bad mood that day..."

  Clarissa’s lips curled, disbelief and disgust flashing across her face. "So when you’re in a bad mood, you lock an eleven-year-old in a doghouse for two days—no food, no water. You ignore him while he bleeds out from a dog attack. What happens when you're in a worse mood, James? Do you just kill him?"

  "No!" James’ face paled. "It wasn’t like that! He was disobedient. I was just trying to teach him a lesson! And we didn’t see the dog bite him, I swear!"

  She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palm. She knew this all too well. She had spent her childhood in an orphanage—had seen firsthand how cruel people could be to children who had no one.

  Atticus… If she hadn’t come today… Would he have survived?

  Her breath caught in her throat. In the original story, he was supposed to die at twenty. But he was only eleven now.

  She had already altered his fate. Her gaze snapped back to James, colder than ice. Just as she was about to speak, the operating room door swung open.

  Clarissa immediately stood up. "Doctor—how is he?"

  The doctor hesitated. "It's bad. He’s lost too much blood. Our hospital’s blood bank is out of stock. If we can’t find a donor soon..."

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  "What’s his blood type?"

  "AB."

  "I’m also AB. Take as much as you need."

  The doctor’s expression shifted from worry to relief. "That’s perfect! Follow me quickly!"

  Clarissa turned on her heel, eyes narrowing at the three people cowering in the waiting area. "Nobody moves from this spot. You don’t go anywhere until Atticus is out of danger." Then she disappeared through the hospital doors.

  As soon as she was gone, Naomi exploded. "Who the fuck does that bitch think she is?! Like she owns the place—acting all high and mighty!"

  James shot her a look. "Shut up, Naomi!"

  She whipped around to face him, livid. "Oh? Now it's my fault? When I punish that little bastard, you didn’t say a word! Now that we’re in deep shit, you wanna act innocent?"

  "Enough!" James snapped, his voice rough and strained.

  Naomi’s eyes filled with hot, angry tears. "Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? The second something goes wrong, it’s all on me?! You bastard—I swear, I’ll kill you!"

  James shoved her away, sending her stumbling back onto the plastic chairs lining the hallway. "Shut up already! Do you want to make this worse?"

  Naomi sat there, breath shaky, tears running down her face. Her voice turned to a whimper. "What the hell are we gonna do? If you go to jail, what happens to Jasper and me? We have nothing! You—you brought that damn jinx into our house, and now look at us!"

  Atticus lay unconscious on the hospital bed, his frail body exposed beneath the sheets. Too thin. Too pale. The bruises on his face were still visible—red and swollen.

  Clarissa sat beside him, her fingers trembling as she reached out, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. His breath came in short, shallow pants. Her heart clenched painfully. "Atticus… don’t be afraid," she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. "I won’t let anything happen to you."

  A sharp prick to her arm. She watched as her blood trickled down the IV line, merging with his. Her life flowing into his.

  By the time the transfusion was over, the doctor confirmed that Atticus was stable. The words he’s out of danger made Clarissa’s tense shoulders finally relax.

  She didn’t leave. Instead, she sat there, watching him. Somewhere deep in her heart, a decision was made. Her fingers trailed gently over his cheek, the heat of fever still lingering beneath her touch. This boy had suffered too much.

  She sighed, then reached into her pocket, pulling out a coin. "If fate exists," she murmured, turning it between her fingers, "then let it decide."

  She flipped the coin. Heads. She flipped it again. Tails. Clarissa bit her lip, staring at the unconscious boy. "One last toss."

  "If it lands on heads… I’ll take care of you." She flicked the coin into the air, holding her breath. But just as it was about to land, her fingers slipped. The coin tumbled, bounced off the nightstand, and disappeared into the shadows beneath the bed.

  Ding. Ding.

  Gone. Clarissa cursed under her breath, dropping to her knees to search for it. Before she could find it, a loud knock shattered the silence.

  "Hey! Is the little bastard dead yet?"

  "Shut up! Miss, can we come in?"

  She’d find it later. Right now, there were more important things to deal with. One thing was certain—Atticus could never go back to that house.

  Even if she couldn’t raise him herself, she would find someone who could. Someone who wouldn’t let him suffer like this. Clarissa tucked the blankets around Atticus before heading to the door.

  As soon as she stepped into the hallway, Naomi stormed forward, arms crossed and scowl deep.

  "Told you he wouldn't die,"Naomi sneered. "He’s not that weak. Starve for two days and act like it’s the end of the world. My neighbor got bitten by a dog ten years ago, and he’s still walking around just fine!"

  "Shut up!" James snapped, cutting off Naomi’s rambling. He turned to Clarissa, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Miss… it’s great that Atticus is okay. So, um… about our situation…"

  Clarissa met his gaze. "I won’t press charges," she said coolly. "But only on one condition."

  James perked up instantly."Anything! Just say it!"

  Clarissa crossed her arms. "Atticus is mine now. From now on, he has nothing to do with you."

  "What?" James blinked. Naomi’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, come on, Miss. You wanna take him just like that? After all the money we spent on him? Tuition, food—kids aren’t cheap, you know."

  Clarissa let out a cold laugh. "How much?"