{"id":32752,"date":"2026-01-17T21:12:14","date_gmt":"2026-01-17T21:12:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/?p=32752"},"modified":"2026-01-17T21:12:14","modified_gmt":"2026-01-17T21:12:14","slug":"32752","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/?p=32752","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe doctor said the skin grafts were top-tier,\u201d Mark continued, checking his watch impatiently. \u201cI paid for the best, didn\u2019t I? We have the Sterling Gala next month. I need you on my arm, and I need you looking perfect. The investors want to see resilience, not\u2026 ruin.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I reached out for his hand. My fingers were stiff, the skin tight.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMark,\u201d I whispered, my voice raspy from the smoke inhalation that had scarred my vocal cords. \u201cWhat if\u2026 what if it\u2019s not the same? The fire was hot. The doctors said there would be scarring.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Mark pulled his hand away as if I had burned him. He smoothed his cufflink, a diamond-encrusted affair that caught the harsh fluorescent light.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be dramatic,\u201d he scoffed. \u201cModern medicine is magic. Just\u2026 fix it. I didn\u2019t sign up for \u2018damaged goods,\u2019 Elena. You were the prettiest girl in the room when I married you. That\u2019s the deal. I bring the money; you bring the face.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned his back on me, typing furiously on his phone. Probably texting his publicist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I looked past him, through the glass door of my room. In the hallway, an elderly man stood leaning heavily on a cane. He wore a bespoke suit that had seen better decades, but his posture was rigid, formidable. He was watching Mark with eyes that narrowed into slits of cold calculation.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was\u00a0<\/span>Arthur Vance<\/span><\/strong>, my grandfather.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark didn\u2019t know he was there. Mark didn\u2019t even know he existed. To Mark, I was an orphan with no connections, a blank slate he could mold. He didn\u2019t know I came from a line of people who built skyscrapers with their bare hands and defended them with iron wills.<\/span><\/p>\n

The door handle turned.<\/span><\/p>\n

A doctor entered, followed by two nurses. He held a pair of silver surgical scissors.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s time, Mrs. Sterling,\u201d the doctor said gently. \u201cLet\u2019s see how you\u2019re healing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark stepped closer. He didn\u2019t come to hold my hand. He didn\u2019t come to offer comfort. He came to inspect the merchandise, like a buyer checking a car for scratches.<\/span><\/p>\n

I squeezed my eyes shut as the cold steel touched the bandages. Outside, the old man placed his hand on the door handle, waiting.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 2: The Face of Betrayal<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The scissors snipped.\u00a0<\/span>Snip. Snip. Snip.<\/span><\/p>\n

The pressure around my head released. The air hit my skin for the first time in weeks\u2014a cool, stinging sensation that made my nerves scream.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSlowly,\u201d the doctor murmured.<\/span><\/p>\n

He peeled the last layer of gauze away. It stuck slightly, pulling at the weeping tissue, before coming free.<\/span><\/p>\n

I kept my eyes closed. I wasn\u2019t ready.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Mark was watching.<\/span><\/p>\n

The silence in the room lasted only a second. It was a heavy, suffocating silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then, a sound broke it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hurk.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a wet, retching noise.<\/span><\/p>\n

I opened my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark was doubled over, clutching his stomach. He gagged again, violently, and then vomited onto the pristine tile floor. The smell of bile mixed with the antiseptic, creating a noxious cloud.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMark?\u201d I whispered, reaching out to him instinctively.<\/span><\/p>\n

He recoiled. He scrambled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes wide with horror. He looked at me as if I were a contagion, a plague.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh god,\u201d he choked out. \u201cLook at you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMark, please\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou look like a monster!\u201d he yelled, his voice cracking with a mixture of disgust and rage. \u201cI can\u2019t be seen with this! My reputation\u2026 my image\u2026 I\u2019m a VP, Elena! I can\u2019t have a\u2026 a\u00a0<\/span>freak<\/span>\u00a0on my arm!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He stood up, wiping spittle from his chin. The nausea was gone, replaced by a cold, hard fury. He felt tricked. He felt cheated.<\/span><\/p>\n

He stepped toward the bed. I shrank back, but there was nowhere to go.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI paid fifty thousand dollars for this?\u201d he screamed, gesturing at my face. \u201cYou\u2019re ruined!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He swung his hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a backhand slap, fueled by his own narcissism and disappointment. His knuckles connected with the fresh, sensitive skin graft on my left cheek.<\/span><\/p>\n

The pain was blinding. It wasn\u2019t just physical; it was a white-hot explosion that shattered my reality. I screamed\u2014a sound of pure agony that echoed off the glass walls.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t touch me!\u201d I sobbed, covering my face with my hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m done,\u201d Mark spat. He turned to the closet and began grabbing my clothes\u2014my silk blouses, my dresses\u2014and stuffing them into the trash can. \u201cYou\u2019re done. We\u2019re done. I\u2019m not nursing a monster. Get out of my life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He grabbed his leather weekender bag and zipped it up with a violent\u00a0<\/span>zzzzzip<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood luck paying the bill,\u201d he sneered, walking toward the door. \u201cI\u2019m canceling the credit cards. Have fun in the charity ward.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He reached for the door handle. He twisted it.<\/span><\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t turn.<\/span><\/p>\n

He frowned, twisting it harder. \u201cWhat the hell?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t locked. It was being held. From the outside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 3: The Shadow in the Window<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The door opened slowly, pushing Mark back a step.<\/span><\/p>\n

A cane, topped with a silver lion\u2019s head, struck the floor with a decisive\u00a0<\/span>thud<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur Vance stepped into the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t a large man, shrunk by age, but he filled the space instantly. He radiated a kind of power that money couldn\u2019t buy\u2014the power of someone who has nothing left to lose and everything to protect.<\/span><\/p>\n

He blocked the exit, his body a solid wall in a wool suit.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMove, old man,\u201d Mark barked, his face flushed. \u201cI don\u2019t have time for this. Are you lost? The geriatrics ward is downstairs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark tried to shove past him. He put a hand on Arthur\u2019s shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur moved with surprising speed. He brought the cane up, the rubber tip pressing firmly into the center of Mark\u2019s chest, hitting the sternum.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark gasped, stopping dead.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur didn\u2019t blink. He looked at the vomit on the floor. He looked at the clothes in the trash can. Then, his gaze traveled to the bed, where I sat sobbing, clutching my bleeding cheek.<\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes darkened. It was like watching a storm front roll in over a calm sea.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a strong stomach for champagne, but a weak one for loyalty, young man,\u201d Arthur said. His voice was deep, gravelly, the sound of rocks grinding together.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark scoffed, slapping the cane away. \u201cDo you know who I am? I\u2019m a Vice President at Sterling Corp! I make more in a week than you\u2019ve made in your life! Now get out of my way!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur smiled. It wasn\u2019t a nice smile. It was the smile of a wolf who has just cornered a rabbit.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSterling Corp,\u201d Arthur mused. \u201cMid-level logistics. Overleveraged. Currently seeking a bridge loan from\u00a0<\/span>Vance Capital<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0to avoid bankruptcy next quarter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark froze. The color drained from his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d Mark whispered. \u201cThat\u2019s confidential.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know it,\u201d Arthur said, stepping forward, forcing Mark back into the room, \u201cbecause I am the man who owns the bank that holds your company\u2019s debt. I am also the man whose name is on the front of this building\u2014the\u00a0<\/span>Arthur Vance Burn Center<\/span><\/strong>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark looked around the room, as if seeing the plaques on the wall for the first time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut most importantly\u2026\u201d Arthur walked past Mark, ignoring him completely now. He walked to my bedside. He rested his hand on the railing. \u201c\u2026I am her grandfather.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark looked at me, then at Arthur. The connection clicked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cVance?\u201d he stammered. \u201cElena\u2026 you said your family was dead.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI said they were gone,\u201d I whispered through my tears. \u201cBecause you told me they weren\u2019t good enough for you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur turned back to Mark. The cane tapped the floor again.\u00a0<\/span>Thud.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou said you couldn\u2019t be seen with her?\u201d Arthur asked softly. \u201cDon\u2019t worry. I\u2019m going to ensure no one sees you ever again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He raised a hand. Two large men in dark suits stepped into the doorway from the hall.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLock the door,\u201d Arthur commanded. \u201cWe have a pest control issue.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 4: The Appraisal of Worth<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The room shrank. Mark backed up until he hit the wall. He looked at the security guards, then at Arthur. The arrogance was melting off him like wax near a flame, revealing the cowardice underneath.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook,\u201d Mark said, his hands raised, voice shaking. \u201cI\u2026 I was upset. It was a shock. The doctor didn\u2019t prepare me. I love Elena. I do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou hit her,\u201d Arthur said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t shout. He stated it as a fact, cold and immutable.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou struck a woman recovering from a fire. You struck her\u00a0<\/span>on the wound<\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a reflex!\u201d Mark pleaded. \u201cShe startled me! Look at her face! It\u2019s\u2026 it\u2019s ruined!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur turned to me. He looked at my face\u2014the red, raw skin, the stitches, the swelling. He didn\u2019t flinch. He didn\u2019t gag. He looked at me with a profound, aching sadness.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am looking at her,\u201d Arthur said. \u201cI see a survivor. I see a Vance. I see the woman who pulled three children out of that burning building before the roof collapsed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned back to Mark.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou see a damaged asset. I see a masterpiece.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and put it on speaker.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Vance,\u201d he said. \u201cGet me the CEO of Sterling Corp. Yes, wake him up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s eyes bulged. \u201cNo! Don\u2019t! Please!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHello, David?\u201d Arthur said into the phone. \u201cThis is Arthur. That VP you have\u2026 Mark? The one handling the merger? Yes. He\u2019s a liability. Fire him. Now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a pause on the line. Then a frantic voice.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cConsider it done, Mr. Vance. Is there anything else?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBlacklist him,\u201d Arthur said. \u201cEnsure he never works in this industry again. If he applies for a job as a janitor, I want to know about it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUnderstood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur hung up.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s phone buzzed in his pocket. A notification.\u00a0<\/span>ACCOUNT LOCKED. ACCESS REVOKED.<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t do this!\u201d Mark screamed, lunging toward Arthur. \u201cYou\u2019re ruining my life!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The security guards moved. One of them caught Mark mid-air, twisting his arm behind his back. Mark cried out in pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou ruined your own life the moment you raised your hand to my blood,\u201d Arthur said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He pointed his cane at the trash can where my clothes were stuffed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRemove this trash,\u201d Arthur ordered the guards, pointing at Mark. \u201cAnd throw his designer bags in the incinerator. He leaves with nothing but the suit on his back. Let him see how far \u2018image\u2019 gets him in the rain.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark was dragged toward the door, kicking and screaming obscenities.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a monster!\u201d he shrieked, looking back at me with wild eyes. \u201cShe\u2019s ugly! No one will ever love her!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The door slammed shut, cutting off his voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room fell silent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur stood there, leaning on his cane, his chest heaving slightly. He looked old suddenly. Tired.<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was trembling, pulling the sheet up to cover my face. I saw the way Mark had looked at me. I saw the vomit. I knew what I was.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was afraid to look at my grandfather. I was afraid he would lie to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

He walked to the bed. His hand, shaking with age and adrenaline, reached out toward my bandaged face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 5: The Mirror of Truth<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

I flinched as his hand approached. My body remembered the slap. It expected pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur froze. A look of heartbreak crossed his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, my child,\u201d he whispered. \u201cNever from me. Never from me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He continued, slower this time. His palm, cool and dry like parchment, cupped my uninjured right cheek. He didn\u2019t touch the grafts. He held my face gently, like I was made of spun glass.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy brave girl,\u201d he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes and tracking through the deep lines of his face. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m so sorry I let you drift away to that\u2026 hollow man. I should have fought harder to keep you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m ugly, Grandpa,\u201d I sobbed, the tears stinging the raw skin on my left side. \u201cI\u2019m a monster. You saw him. He threw up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur shook his head firmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA monster is what just left this room,\u201d he said. \u201cA monster is a man who loves only the surface. You?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He brushed a tear from my eye with his thumb.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou are a warrior. You walked through fire to save others. That is not ugly. That is glory. You are a masterpiece in progress.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He reached for the call button and pressed it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe are going to fix this, Elena. I have the best reconstructive surgeons in Switzerland on standby. We will graft, we will heal, we will smooth. Not for him. Not for the world. For you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A nurse bustled in, looking worried. \u201cIs everything okay? We heard shouting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe had a pest,\u201d Arthur said dismissively. \u201cHe has been exterminated. My granddaughter needs fresh dressings. And a mirror.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA mirror?\u201d I panicked. \u201cNo. I can\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou must,\u201d Arthur said. \u201cYou cannot heal what you refuse to acknowledge. You need to see the truth, not Mark\u2019s lie.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The nurse hesitated, then handed me a small hand mirror.<\/span><\/p>\n

My hands shook so hard I almost dropped it. Arthur put his hand over mine, steadying it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I lifted the mirror.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was\u2026 difficult. The skin was angry, red, and uneven. My left eyebrow was gone. The texture was rough.<\/span><\/p>\n

But then I looked into my eyes. They were the same eyes. Green. Vance eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

And behind the scars, I saw something new. I saw the steel that Arthur had. I saw the fire that hadn\u2019t killed me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mark had called me a monster because he was weak. He needed perfection to feel secure. I didn\u2019t need perfection. I was alive.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just skin,\u201d I whispered, touching the cool glass of the mirror. \u201cIt heals.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt heals,\u201d Arthur agreed. \u201cAnd what doesn\u2019t heal, we wear as armor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

For the first time since the fire, I didn\u2019t feel the burning heat of the flames. I felt the warmth of the sun coming through the window.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Chapter 6: The Unbreakable<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

One Year Later<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The flashbulbs popped like fireworks as I stepped out of the limousine.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stood on the red carpet of the\u00a0<\/span>Vance Charity Gala<\/span><\/strong>. The air was crisp, and the music from the ballroom spilled out onto the street.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wore a gown of emerald silk that left my shoulders bare. I wore my hair swept up, exposing my neck.<\/span><\/p>\n

And I exposed my face.<\/span><\/p>\n

The surgeries had been miraculous, but they weren\u2019t magic. There was still a faint, silver map on my left cheek. A network of fine lines where the skin had been knit back together. It looked like\u00a0<\/span>kintsugi<\/span>\u2014the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer, making the break a part of the history, not something to disguise.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t cover it with heavy makeup. I wore it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Grandfather took my arm. He looked frail tonight, relying heavily on me, but his smile was blinding.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cReady?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAlways,\u201d I smiled.<\/span><\/p>\n

We walked into the ballroom. Heads turned. The whispers started. But they weren\u2019t whispers of pity or disgust. They were whispers of awe.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s her,\u201d someone said. \u201cThe one who took over the foundation.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe looks incredible.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I walked through the crowd, shaking hands, smiling. I felt powerful. Not because I was beautiful, but because I was unbreakable.<\/span><\/p>\n

Near the back of the room, by the service entrance, a waiter was moving through the crowd with a tray of champagne.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked familiar. He looked tired. His hair was thinning, his face lined with the bitterness of a man who believes the world owes him something.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was Mark.<\/span><\/p>\n

He froze when he saw me. He looked at the gown, the jewels, the way the room seemed to bend around me.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked at my face. He saw the scars.<\/span><\/p>\n

And then he looked at his own reflection in the silver tray he was holding. He saw a man in a cheap vest, serving drinks to the people he used to try to impress.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our eyes met across the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked away first. He lowered his head in shame and turned, disappearing into the kitchen.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t feel anger. I didn\u2019t feel triumph. I felt\u2026 nothing. He was a ghost. A bad memory.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur leaned in close to my ear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know,\u201d he said, watching Mark leave. \u201cThe board is looking for a new Chairperson next year. I\u2019m thinking of retiring.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at him, then out at the skyline visible through the massive windows. The city lights twinkled, a million little fires that couldn\u2019t burn me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think I\u2019m ready for a new challenge,\u201d I said. \u201cFire was easy. Boardrooms should be a breeze.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Arthur laughed, a sound of pure joy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s my girl,\u201d he said. \u201cThat\u2019s my monster.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

We walked forward, into the light, together.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

If you want more stories like this, or if you\u2019d like to share your thoughts about what you would have done in my situation, I\u2019d love to hear from you. Your perspective helps these stories reach more people, so don\u2019t be shy about commenting or sharing.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe doctor said the skin grafts were top-tier,\u201d Mark continued, checking his watch impatiently. \u201cI paid for the best, didn\u2019t I? We have the Sterling Gala next month. I need you on my arm, and I need you looking perfect. The investors want to see resilience, not\u2026 ruin.\u201d I reached out for his hand. My…<\/p>\n

Read More “”<\/span> »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32752"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=32752"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32752\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32753,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32752\/revisions\/32753"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=32752"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=32752"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsx48.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=32752"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}