Chapter 4

Harrison and I getting together seemed to happen naturally, like it was meant to be. Neither of us was big on words, but Harrison was incredibly attentive.

I have a weak stomach, so he sought out all sorts of home remedies and took me to get treatment. He brought back bundles of medicine, brewed it himself, and delivered it to me.

When I felt unwell during my period, he took on double my shifts alone. Even after getting off work in the early morning, he still remembered to warm my stomach for me.

Later, during our internship, I had a sleazy superior who took advantage of a business party to get handsy with me while pretending to be drunk.

Afterward, he claimed he was too drunk to remember and apologized, like that would make it all okay.

The next day, he ended up in the hospital with a broken arm. It was Harrison's doing—he led the guy into an alley.

There were no cameras in the alley, so no one knew what really went down. But the footage from the street corner caught the guy socking Harrison hard, which counted as assault.

"I just wanted to talk to him. He started hitting me first and dragged me into the alley," Harrison told the police earnestly when I arrived.

In the end, it was ruled as self-defense. But I was still furious because his methods were so reckless.

Maybe because of his family background, Harrison held grudges intensely. He would go to any length to retaliate against those who hurt him, but it was dangerously reckless.

I glared at him. "Did you ever think about yourself? If anything had gone slightly wrong, you could have ended up in jail."

Harrison looked at me, his tone dead serious. "He'll never dare to touch you again." I broke down in tears at his words.

Harrison was a man of clear love and hate. When he loved me, I was his whole world.

That's why, later, after I vanished when his heart condition relapsed and he was faced with crippling medical bills, he hated me with that same intensity.

Harrison hated me for abandoning him and leaving him alone on a hospital bed waiting to die.

Later, Harrison stopped paying for Monica's treatment bills and had Samuel detained. And still, I didn't show up.

*****

At the office, Harrison sat back in his leather chair, holding a pen, gazing out the window at the scenery outside. It was rare for him to space out like this.

Dyllan walked in. "Mr. Morgan, Jennifer hasn't had any contact with her family these past three years. They even went to the police, and the police suggested they declare her dead."

Snap! Harrison broke the pen in his hand. He scoffed, "Someone like her? How could she possibly be dead?"

Harrison let out a cold laugh, swiveling his chair to face Dyllan, his expression growing even darker.

"She's hiding because she's scared of my revenge. Jennifer's so heartless. She won't even show up when her mother's dying."

Dyllan looked uneasy, fidgeting a little. "Mr. Morgan, it's impossible for someone to vanish for three years without a single word. Could it be that—?"

"People get into fights all the time in lockup, don't they?" Harrison cut him off, looking up, a vicious glint flashing in his bloodshot eyes.

Dyllan froze, realizing what Harrison meant. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated.

"Spread the word that Samuel broke his leg," Harrison said coldly.

Realizing what Harrison was planning to do to force me out, I rushed at him frantically. But no matter what I did, I had no effect.

Harrison, how could you be so cruel? Samuel—you watched him grow up too. It hurt; even as a ghost, my heart felt like it was being torn to pieces.

At that exact moment, I saw Harrison clutch his chest. I heard him mutter, "Is the rejection getting worse?"

*****

News of Samuel's broken leg in the detention center quickly reached Monica.

Dragging her frail body, Monica knelt down at the gates of Morgan Group. Soon, the media swarmed in, cameras flashing everywhere.

"Mr. Morgan, please, find it in your heart to forgive us. Let Samuel go. It was all Jennifer's fault back then, but Jennifer is still missing. Please, just let us be," she begged.

Monica was in worse shape than a few days ago. She was still wearing her hospital gown, kneeling weakly on the pavement in front of Morgan Group.

The blazing sun beat down on her. Her lips were chapped and pale, and she looked like she might pass out at any second.