Frida jolted awake, her heart pounding as her frantic eyes darted around the room. One moment, she was sipping coffee in a bustling café; the next, she was lying in her bed at her parents' house.
Her mother, Evelyn, stood beside her, her face as cold and flawless as if carved from marble, betraying no emotion. The soft hum of the IV fluid dripping into the tube filled the room.
"Mom?" Frida croaked, her voice weak and raspy. Evelyn glanced at her briefly before returning to adjusting the IV with meticulous precision.
"You're dehydrated, Frida," Evelyn said matter-of-factly, her tone sharp and devoid of warmth. "Only God knows what reckless nonsense you've been indulging in, but it's affecting our family's reputation and the company's image."
Frida's head throbbed as she struggled to sit up, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "What... what did you do to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
