They Thought I Was Faking My Illness

Chapter 3

When I woke up, I was lying in the ER with an IV in my arm.

The hospital had called the Scott family over and over.

My dad was in a meeting.

My mom was out shopping.

Wyatt answered once. He hung up before the nurse had even finished her second sentence.

My hair was still soaking wet. The hospital gown hung loosely off my body.

After paying my bill, I happened to pass the pharmacy window. Wyatt was there, carefully asking the pharmacist how to administer the medication.

I lowered my eyes.

Beneath the loose hospital pants, my feet were bare.

Of course. When they pulled me out of the pool, all I had on was a swimsuit.

My phone buzzed.

Best Brother Wyatt: Doris, you're a swimming champion. You seriously expect me to believe you almost drowned? Who are you putting on this little show for?

Another message followed.

Best Brother Wyatt: I spent forever calming Cecilia down. She already forgave you. Drop the act.

I quietly removed Wyatt's chat from the top of my messages, then locked my phone.

'Goodbye, Wyatt.'

I dragged my exhausted body into the neighborhood.

A familiar Rolls-Royce was parked by the curb. The driver's window rolled down, revealing my dad's profile.

"Get in."

I slid into the passenger seat.

His eyes drifted down to my feet. I was wearing a pair of cheap rubber flip-flops the hospital had given me.

"What happened to your shoes?"

"Left them at the swim center."

"So careless."

Normally, I would've reached over and messed up his tie.

Then teased, "Like father, like daughter, right?"

But today, I only pressed my lips together and quietly accepted the criticism.

He hesitated. "About last night... I lost my temper."

The words "I'm sorry" lingered on the tip of his tongue. But they never came out.

I turned to him and smiled faintly. "It's okay—Mr. Scott."

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

For a long moment, he couldn't say another word.

*****

The living room was overflowing with luxury shopping bags.

When Emily saw Ryan and me walk in together, her hands paused.

After a moment, she pulled out a free canvas tote that had come with one of her purchases.

She handed it to me. "You can have this."

I accepted it. "Thank you... Mrs. Scott."

A c***k appeared in the perfect smile she'd carefully maintained.

"Doris... I didn't mean..."

"Mom! Dad!" Cecilia skipped through the front door. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

She held up a bakery bag. "The best salted caramel donuts in the world! Wyatt waited in line for an hour to get these!"

Once upon a time, if I casually mentioned craving some trendy milkshake, Wyatt would've happily stood in line just as long to bring me a cup.

The four of them gathered around the table, laughing and sharing pastries. Looking exactly like the family they were always meant to be.

Quietly, I stepped out of the picture.

As I climbed the stairs, my legs suddenly gave out.

I dropped to one knee, catching myself against the railing.

"Doris! There you go again!"

"Wyatt, it's okay," Cecilia said softly. "She probably still hasn't gotten over what happened at the pool. I get why she's upset."

I struggled back to my feet and looked downstairs.

The guilt in Ryan's eyes had completely disappeared.

Emily stared at the canvas bag hanging from my arm, as if she already regretted giving it to me.

The two of them looked at me, like parents demanding justice for their bullied child.

That evening, I quietly finished what would become my last dinner in this house.

Ryan finally spoke, "Since you're no longer a member of the Scott family, it's time to transfer your shares back to Cecilia."

The legal team from Scott Group was already waiting. One of the attorneys stepped forward.

"Ms. Doris Scott, the 8% of Scott Group shares currently under your name must be transferred to Ms. Cecilia Scott."

Every pair of eyes in the room felt like a blade.

The transfer documents were stacked into a thick pile.

I signed them one by one, page after page.

When I reached the last few, the pen suddenly slipped from my fingers.

I curled my stiff hand into a fist, trying to hide the tremor.

"Oh, here we go again." Wyatt's voice was ice-cold.

"First, you nearly drowned. Then you fell down the stairs. Now your hands are shaking. What's next? Pretending you have some terminal illness? Can't sign with your right hand? Then use the left one!"

He walked over without waiting for an answer.

"Or do you need me to hold your hand and make you sign?"

My vision blurred.

Just like he wanted, I picked up the pen with my left hand.

I wrote my name—Doris Scott.

From this day forward, it'd just be Doris—with nothing left to do with the Scott family.