Lilian's POV
Armand drew in a sharp breath, his fingers wrapping around my injured hand with urgent concern. "God, what happened to you? Your hand looks awful. Come on, let me get you some first aid."
His worried movements were hurried as he tried to steer me toward the backyard, every gesture radiating genuine alarm.
The weight of countless stares pressed down on me like physical blows. I felt exposed and vulnerable, trapped in a web of hostile attention with no escape route.
I pulled my hand free from Armand's grasp, forcing strength into my voice. "Really, I'm okay. You don't need to worry."
"Lilian, please don't do this to yourself. You're hurt badly and you need medical attention," he insisted.
"It's nothing serious. Just a minor cut," I replied weakly, exhaustion seeping through every word. His concern touched me, but surrounded by the Atlas family, his kindness would only make my situation worse.
