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436words
After finishing everything, I agreed to have dinner with Lucas.
At the school gate I was stopped by my parents demanding money.
I had none. They told me to come back and get married; I was torn because I couldn't easily refuse my overseas mentor.
They said my brother would be released from prison and wanted me to pick him up.
I hadn't even refused when a fist came at me.
My father doesn't hit hard—he's older now. But I slipped and fell, smashing my left arm on the flowerbed edge.
I heard the cracking snap of a bone.
The campus security alarms went off. Ethan appeared, somehow controlling my parents.
Minutes later Lucas arrived and police followed.
Lucas's family had political connections; charges were piled on for "disturbance," and before I left, their sentencing came down hard.
I knew Lucas had helped push for a heavier punishment—he'd been able to arrange it.
When I visited my parents in detention, their eyes were full of hate.
Standing there under the city police's stern lights, watching my parents realize the law doesn't wink and nod at them like a village committee, I was asked whether I wanted to forgive them.
I declined. "Because my brother is still in prison," I said earnestly, "and I want this family to be reunited."
My father froze. My mother's face flamed.
"Are you crazy? Your brother isn't even in this jail."
I knew. I'd done it on purpose.
Frostbite scars may never fully heal—but if you cut away the rotten tissue, the wound can regrow healthy bone.
People tormented by chilblains can rebuild.
When Lucas found me packing, leaning in the doorway, he asked, "Your hand okay?"
"Yeah."
"How will you thank me?"
"Why should I thank you?" I said without looking.
He laughed. "As expected."
He guessed correctly: "You only went to dinner with me because you knew your parents would show up."
I met his calm gaze. He said, slow and serious, "You didn't have to break your arm. I could have had them arrested."
I laughed quietly. "You sympathetic?"
Lucas watched me like he was cataloguing me.
I pulled a folder from my bag.
"This has evidence that Nathaniel Aldridge's company sold drugs without FDA approval. Take it."
Lucas crossed his arms and switched back to the blasé, playboy air.
"You give it to the regulators—what do you want me to do with that?"
I smacked my lips.
"I'm a people-pleaser. For doing something risky, of course I want you to take the dirty job."
Lucas blinked. "Okay."
