132 The Billion-Dollar Retribution: Unraveling the Corporate Betrayal, Outsmarting the Traitorous Counsel, and Striking Back from the Hospital Bed

"A stupid car accident," I repeated, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "The doctors told me I was twenty minutes away from internal hemorrhaging that would have killed me. You couldn't even pause your interior decorating to pick up the phone."

"We didn't know it was that bad!" Lauren cried, her lower lip trembling as fake tears spilled down her cheeks—tears born of financial panic, not sisterly affection. "You always exaggerate everything for attention! You’ve always been dramatic!"

"Enough," I said, hitting the nurse call button on my bed rail.

My father stepped forward, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and sudden, sickening desperation. "Miranda... think about what you're doing. We're your family. Blood is thicker than money. If you do this, you will be completely alone. No one will ever speak to you again. You'll die with nobody by your side."

"I'd rather die alone than spend another second surrounded by parasites who only love my bank balance," I fired back without missing a beat.

The door opened instantly, and Marisol walked in alongside two burly security guards.

"Get them out of here," I ordered, pointing directly at Lauren and my parents. "Now."

"Miranda, you bitch! You'll regret this!" Lauren shrieked, lunging forward as the security guards caught her by the arms and dragged her backward toward the door.

"Get your hands off my daughter!" my father roared, trying to shove the guards, while my mother screamed curses at the top of her lungs.

The chaos spilled out into the hallway, the heavy hospital door swinging shut and cutting off their hysterical shrieks as the security team forcibly escorted them out of the building for the second time that night.

When the room finally fell silent, the oppressive weight lifted, leaving behind only the soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.

I sank back into my pillows, feeling a profound, terrifying sense of liberation. I was entirely alone. For the first time in my life, I had no family, no safety net, and no obligations to people who used me.

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over me.

Ten minutes later, just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone—lying on the bedside table—lit up with a single text message from an unknown, encrypted number.