Part 4: Standing on Her Own Two Feet
"Stop! What are you doing to her?" Marcus shouted, panic overriding his shock as Mia arched her back in the bed, a soft cry escaping her lips as the golden light surged through her spine.
"I'm fixing what your legacy broke," Kai said, his eyes snapping open. They weren't brown anymore; they burned with a fierce, luminous amber fire. "Don't fight it. Let her body remember how to live."
With a final, explosive pulse of light, the golden current receded back into Kai's palm, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The monitors flickered back to life, their screens flashing error codes before stabilizing into a steady, rhythmic beep that sounded entirely different than before—stronger, faster, healthier.
Mia lay back against the pillows, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with wonder. She looked down at her legs beneath the blanket. For the first time in three years, she didn't just feel weight; she felt sensation. She felt the cool air of the room on her toes.
"Dad," she whispered, tears spilling over her lashes. "I... I can feel my feet. I can feel my toes."
Without waiting for permission, Mia threw off the silk blanket, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and before Marcus could rush forward to catch her, she pushed herself up.
Her bare feet touched the hardwood floor. Her knees wobbled violently, shaking like dry twigs in a gale-force wind, but she didn't fall. With a shaky intake of breath, Mia stood completely upright, her height stretching out to what a normal nine-year-old girl should be. She was standing on her own two feet.
Marcus dropped to his knees, his hands hovering inches from her ankles, terrified that if he touched her, the miracle would shatter like glass. He looked up at Kai, whose face had gone pale, a thin line of dark blood trickling from his left nostril. The boy swayed slightly, the immense strain of the transfer clearly draining every ounce of energy he possessed.
"You... you actually did it," Marcus breathed, his voice breaking. The hard, untouchable billionaire, the man who had bought and sold half of Chicago, broke down right there on the floor, pressing his forehead against his daughter's trembling knee.
"I told you I could," Kai said, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve. He stepped back toward the door, his breathing shallow. "The debt is paid. The curse of Ashford Row... it stops tonight."
"Wait!" Marcus stood up quickly, blocking the doorway. "You can't just leave. You're a child, you're living on the streets—what happened to your mother? Who's taking care of you?"
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"Nobody," Kai said, his voice hard as iron. "Just like nobody took care of the fifty-four families your company locked out in the snow twelve years ago. Keep your money, Marcus. It couldn't save your daughter until you bled a little bit of the truth. That's the only currency that matters."
Before Marcus could grab him again, Kai pulled open the heavy oak door and slipped out into the corridor with impossible speed, disappearing into the maze of the penthouse before the guards could even react.
