Chapter 5

The infirmary fell silent once again.

Zoella opened her mouth but, in the end, said nothing. Words felt meaningless.

She had explained countless times before, but her brothers never believed her.

Bobby gulped, but eventually, he let go.

He looked at her, disappointment clear in his eyes. "If you keep being this stubborn, even I won't be able to protect you when Aaron returns. Think it over."

With that, he turned and left.

Zoella let out a breath, as if finally relieved. She leaned back against the headboard, a trace of self-mockery in her eyes.

Think about what?

Should she lower her head again, like in her past life, carefully trying to please them—only to be thrown out of the house in the end, and locked away in a mental hospital to die miserably?

No. She wouldn't let that happen again.

"Here."

A cold compress wrapped in gauze appeared in front of her.

Zoella took it and pressed it against the swollen side of her face. She stole a glance at the doctor and whispered, "Thank you… for earlier."

His voice was cool. "Why didn't you explain yourself?"

Zoella lowered her head, letting out a bitter smile. "Would you believe me if I said I've explained it before? Again and again. I even showed them proof, but they never believed me. They always assume I'm lying."

Silence fell over the room.

She didn't feel like saying more. Most outsiders never believed her anyway. They just saw her as disobedient.

"It's hard not to believe you," he said.

Zoella stiffened.

He really believed her?

Zach stepped closer, placing a hand on her forehead. "Your fever's gone down."

She froze. His hand was cool against her skin. It felt really soothing.

She did feel better now—less miserable.

Her gaze dropped to his wrist. "That scar… was it from a car accident?"

Zach's hand paused abruptly before pulling away.

He removed the empty IV bottle and took a moment before answering. "Yeah. A car accident."

He braced himself against the table, his back turned to her.

Against the light, his profile was hard to read.

"I have one too. On my leg."

Zoella lifted the hem of her dress slightly. "Here. It looks a lot like yours, doesn't it?"

Zach turned his head and caught sight of her slender leg. Her pale skin made the scar stand out sharply.

But her dress—it was lifted a little too high.

His gaze flickered away instantly. "Kid, don't just pull up your skirt in front of a man."

"But you're a doctor."

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

But he was still a man. Had no one ever taught her these things?

He changed the subject. "That scar can be treated. Why haven't you had it removed?"

Zoella's expression faded as a dull ache spread through her chest.

Because her third brother, Carson, once told her that the scar represented their parents. He had promised he'd remove it himself one day when he had time.

She believed him.

But in the end, Carson only looked at her scar with disgust, saying he hated it, saying he would never help her get rid of it.

He had said it was her fault their parents had died. That the scar was her mark of guilt. That she would carry it for the rest of her life, never allowed to forget.

It had crushed her.

For a long time, she truly believed she had caused their deaths, so she tried even harder to please her brothers.

As Zoella thought of the past, she felt suffocated.

But she couldn't bring herself to explain. Instead, she asked, "What about you? Why haven't you removed yours?"

"I'm a man. It doesn't matter. But a girl like you should get it removed."

Zoella forced a faint smile. "Maybe later."

Zach saw her lower her head and didn't press further. He sat beside her and turned on the television.

She glanced at the screen. It was a live game broadcast. Her sixth brother, Fred, was competing.

That's why he hadn't attended Jasmine's banquet.

But in the end, he lost—to the heir of the Holden family in Pierrewyn City.

Zoella remembered what happened in her past life. After losing, Fred was humiliated by the opponent. Furious, he returned home and rebuilt the family's esports team.

Bobby, Dennis, Eugene, Fred… and her.

They failed in the preliminaries but fought their way back through the revival round. In the national championship, they faced the Holden family's team again.

She had spent countless hours practicing, studying their opponents, analyzing strategies—just to win.

Jasmine wasn't part of the team. She wasn't talented enough, only a substitute. So, for once, it was just family. No outsiders.

Zoella cherished that feeling—fighting alongside her brothers, without intrusion.

She had sacrificed everything for that competition, even neglecting her university entrance exam prep.

And then, just when victory was within reach, her brothers stopped the match.

They pulled her from the game.

And put Jasmine in.

They won the championship.

Jasmine cradled the trophy that should have been hers and smiled radiantly in the center of their group.

Her brothers stood beside Jasmine, basking in the glory she had paved for them.

Zoella stared at the TV screen. Something inside her felt hollow, like a wound that would never quite close.

"Why are you crying?" Zach's voice pulled her back. "This isn't some soap opera. What's there to be so emotional about?"

She wiped her face. She hadn't even realized she was crying. The memories had gotten to her.

A piece of tissue appeared before her.

She hesitated before taking it, a little embarrassed. "Do you play this game?"

Zach leaned back in his chair, lazily watching the match. "Kid, you should be studying for your exams, not worrying about games."

Zoella ignored him, eyes fixed on the screen. "Ace Cap will lose."

Ace Cap was Fred's team.

Zach smirked. "Not bad. You have a good eye."

The match ended. Ace Cap lost, just as she predicted.

Fred's face darkened on the livestream. He slammed his keyboard in frustration.

Fred had that same old temper.

Surprisingly, she felt a little satisfied.

Now that he had lost, he would definitely rebuild the team.

But this time, she wouldn't fight for the Finchman family.

She would fight for herself.

She would become a professional player, earn her own money, and put herself through university.

No more threats. No more being cut off financially to force her into submission. No more being made to give up her dream university just to follow Jasmine to a second-tier university.

Financial independence was the only way out.

Esports wasn't commercially viable now, but next year, when live streaming took off, professional players would be able to make real money.

She had experience. She knew the industry's future. This was her fastest, easiest way to freedom.

Her decision was made.

The broadcast ended. Zach glanced at her before walking over and removing her IV needle.

He pressed a cotton swab to the back of her hand. "The medicine's on the table. Take it and you can leave."

"Thanks."

Zoella grabbed the medicine and left the infirmary.

Not long after, another young man sauntered in. He leaned casually against the doorframe. "Didn't expect to see you playing the hero, Zach. But that girl's reputation here isn't great. The school forum's been tearing her apart. You sure she's not playing you?"

Zach leaned back in his chair, his usual aloofness laced with a hint of laziness. "Why are you still here?"

The man chuckled. "I'm just curious. Why'd you come to this school as a doctor? You even skipped Sniffler's match. He was so distracted looking for you, he almost got ambushed by that guy from Ace Cap."

Zach removed his mask and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged, ugly scar.

Scott Taylor's expression shifted. "After all these years… you still haven't let it go? That accident wasn't your fault! Wait—don't tell me that girl is—"

"Shut up."

Zach closed his eyes and said nothing more.