The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Over the years, Nova had shed the concerns typical of an ordinary girl—vanity, innocence, and the carefree youth that most people took for granted. The harsh realities of the mercenary world had stripped her of all that.

In the ruthless underground circles where only the strongest survived, beauty was irrelevant. Bullets showed no mercy, and the law of survival was simple and brutal: kill or be killed.

Every scar, every close call with death, every wound she had endured now seemed insignificant when weighed against the struggle to stay alive.

Nova no longer cared about the scars that marred her skin or the curious, sometimes judgmental, gazes of others. She had witnessed horrors far beyond mockery or disdain—that was the mercenary’s realm, where survival overshadowed everything else.

When Nova finally revealed her scars to the entire group of students, a collective gasp filled the room.

Her body was a canvas of layered scars—some fresh, others faded but still unmistakably visible. It was impossible not to imagine the violence and pain she must have suffered.

Whispers rippled through the crowd. “Were those wounds life-threatening?” “Why does Nova carry so many scars?” “What has she endured since leaving the Blake family?”

A shiver ran involuntarily through the onlookers, a mixture of shock and unease.

“No… this can’t be…” Claire stammered, covering her mouth in disbelief as she stumbled backward, her body trembling.

Claire had expected something altogether different. She imagined Nova’s injuries would be the marks of a reckless past—hickeys, maybe whip scars or burns from serving some depraved men. But the brutal reality was far worse than her wildest assumptions.

What kind of past could leave such cruel, permanent reminders? Claire’s mind raced, but she dared not dwell on the terrifying possibilities.

When Claire had earlier accused Nova of refusing to remove her jacket because she had “slept with too many men,” Zane’s expression had flickered with instinctive disgust. His gaze toward Nova had grown cold.

As the reigning prom king, Zane had always been selective. If he discovered a girl had a sordid past, his interest would vanish immediately. In his eyes, a “tainted” woman was not worthy of his attention.

But now, seeing those ghastly scars etched across Nova’s skin, Zane was stunned into silence. A sharp pang of unexpected pain gripped his heart.

Clenching his jaw, he thought bitterly, “Damn it. Even knowing this woman might be playing hard to get, I can’t stop caring.”

“Nova…” Sophia and Ethan spoke almost simultaneously, their voices soft and filled with concern.

The sharp scrutiny in their eyes had softened, replaced by genuine heartache and worry.

If the moment had allowed, Sophia would have rushed forward to embrace Nova—this girl her own age who had suffered so much.

While Sophia, Ethan, and the school’s popular crowd felt empathy, the other students remained frozen in shock and curiosity. They couldn’t help but wonder, “Why is Nova, the Blake family’s long-lost heiress, covered in scars like this?” “Where did she get hurt?” “What has she been through?”

These outsiders were filled with questions and doubts. For Maxwell and Hannah, who were related to Nova, those doubts cut even deeper.

Maxwell’s eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the sight of Nova’s wounds. His fists clenched tightly, and for a long moment, he was speechless—not because he had nothing to say, but because he was afraid to voice the questions burning inside.

Maxwell was three years older than Nova and still vividly remembered when she disappeared at just five years old.

He was eight then, and his memories of Nova were crystal clear. She had been lively, cheerful, and inseparable from Hannah—the two sisters bound by a deep, unbreakable bond.

Everything she thought she knew about Nova shattered in an instant. Hannah had assumed Nova had lived a comfortable life all those years, leaving the family to bear the pain of her absence.

Nova had returned in expensive clothes, polished and poised—but beneath it all, she was covered in scars.

“How… how could this happen? It’s impossible. Weren’t you doing well out there? No, it can’t be…” Hannah muttered, her voice barely coherent.

She would have preferred Nova to be annoyingly perfect, the way she appeared on the surface, rather than this broken, scarred version.

Amid the heavy silence, Nova lowered her eyes for the first time since returning home, responding to Hannah’s persistent accusations with quiet resolve.

“Nothing is impossible,” she said flatly.

“I’ve never denied that I bear some responsibility for what happened to Mom and Grandma. It’s a past I cannot change.”

“You’re lucky. You’ve had parents and a brother protecting you since birth.”

“In some ways, you’re not wrong. I faced death more times than I can count. I almost didn’t make it back. Where I lived was nothing like your polished world. My childhood was a daily battle in the slums.”

Nova paused briefly, raising her hand to reveal the scars on her forearm. A faint, almost bitter smile touched her lips.

She wasn’t seeking sympathy or pity—she never had, and never would.

Speaking as if recounting the story of a stranger, she continued, “A beating couldn’t even earn me a moldy piece of bread. This world… it’s truly a cruel joke.”