Chapter 7
It was like her body just acted on instinct, as if the reaction was etched into her very bones.
She couldn't even think straight.
By the time Claire came to her senses, she was already standing barefoot on the icy hospital floor, her feet raw and bleeding from the rough concrete.
Charles was covered in blood after the crash, his suit torn to shreds.
His friends grabbed the doctor by the collar, shouting, "What are you waiting for? Check him out now!"
Doctors and nurses swarmed around Charles, urgently trying to help.
But Charles, his eyes blazing red, suddenly snapped his head up.
"How's Rachel?" Charles demanded, his voice rough and urgent.
"Bro, you're way more messed up than Rachel!" one of his friends shouted, worry etched in his voice.
"When that car came barreling toward you, you shoved Rachel out of the way—she just got a few scrapes, but you took the full hit and got thrown across the street—"
Charles cut him off, his voice low and commanding. "Take care of her first."
As soon as he finished speaking, he doubled over, clutching his chest as violent coughs wracked his body.
Blood gushed from his mouth, spraying the wall with flecks of red.
Yet Charles seemed completely unfazed by the pain. In a low, commanding voice, he snapped, "What are you all standing around for? Go take care of Rachel's wounds!"
Claire stood there, feeling lost and out of it.
Suddenly, she remembered the first year Charles brought her to Northbridge.
They got caught up in a kidnapping.
Claire was ready to give up her life to keep Charles safe.
But Charles grabbed her hand and said, "Claire, you have to remember—your life matters more than anything.
"No matter how important someone is to you, nothing matters more than your own life."
She kept those words close to her heart.
But now, Charles was ready to throw away his life for Rachel.
Claire felt her old courage just vanish.
She stumbled toward the exit, ready to leave.
But suddenly, someone seized her wrist in a vice-like grip.
With a loud bang, Claire was hurled across the room like a broken kite, slamming into the wall and hitting the floor hard.
Her insides felt like they were screaming in pain.
She looked up, only to meet Charles's eyes.
"Claire, you really had the nerve to show up?" Charles said, his voice cold and full of contempt.
Claire's eyes were filled with confusion. "What do you mean?"
Charles grabbed Claire by the throat, squeezing so hard his veins popped out, his grip like iron.
His eyes were bloodshot as he growled out each word, slow and menacing.
"You're vicious as hell.
"You actually sent someone to kill Rachel with a car!"
Claire could hardly believe her ears.
Kill Rachel? Her?
Impossible!
Claire struggled desperately, trying to pry Charles's hand off her neck, her teeth clenched in fury.
"Charles, how could I possibly do something like that?" Claire shouted.
"What makes you think it was me?!"
Charles's grip loosened for a split second, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
But before he could respond, Rachel burst in and delivered a stinging slap to Claire's cheek.
"Bring them over!" Rachel smirked, her voice laced with venom. "Look closely, Claire. Do you know who this is?
"If you didn't try to have me killed, then who else could it be?" Rachel snapped, glaring at her.
Charles's men dragged over a corpse, shrouded in a white sheet.
Blood had soaked through the sheet at the chest, leaving a gruesome red blotch.
Her gaze landed on a face she knew all too well, and Claire felt her whole body freeze.