Chapter 2
"Mr. Arthur! Something terrible has happened to your father.
"He got into a fight at the banquet, was shoved, and crashed into the glass display case behind him!
"A massive shard of glass pierced his heart! He's already been rushed to Central Hospital, but..."
The assistant's voice trembled with tears, filled with despair.
"But what? Spit it out!" Morgan's body started shaking uncontrollably.
"But all the experts at the hospital say there's no hope! The shard is in a deadly spot, less than an inch from the aorta. If it moves even a little, he'll bleed out! They said... they said in the whole city, no, the whole country, maybe only Eileen could pull off this operation."
"Only Eileen... can handle it!"
A suffocating silence fell.
A deathly silence fell over the entire villa.
I could hear Morgan's heavy, frantic breathing.
He turned his head slowly, inch by inch. Those eyes that had been burning with fury just moments ago were now filled with shock and fear, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
His gaze dropped to my hands, drenched in blood and so mangled they barely looked human anymore.
Then his eyes finally found me.
He saw me locked in the cage, a smirk playing on my lips.
"No... no..." he muttered, his face as pale as a sheet.
It was like all the strength had been drained from him. He staggered back a couple of steps, and then his legs buckled beneath him.
Thud.
The man who just moments ago looked down on me like I was nothing but a toy now knelt rigidly before the cold iron cage.
"Eileen..."
His voice trembled, almost breaking from the tears.
"Please... please, save my dad."
I looked at him, broken, kneeling before me, and there wasn't a trace of satisfaction in my heart, only a barren chill.
Karma really did have its way.
Just a moment ago, he used his own hands to drag me down from the clouds and throw me into hell, destroying my gifted hands, the ones everyone once called miraculous.
Now, he was on his knees, begging me, with these crippled hands, to save his father's life.
How ironic.
I looked at the man who once thought he ruled the world, now kneeling before me, and there wasn't a flicker of emotion in my eyes.
After a long moment, my dry, cracked lips parted, and I uttered just two words.
"Open the door."
My voice was soft and raspy, but it carried the weight of a command, making Morgan shudder.
He scrambled to find the key in his pocket, hands trembling so badly he kept failing to fit it into the lock.
The cage door finally opened with a click.
He rushed forward to help me, his eyes full of desperation and a fear he himself wasn't even aware of.
I turned away from his touch, as if he were nothing but a contagion.
Using all my strength, I clung to the iron bars and forced myself upright. Every movement made the pain in my hands so intense I nearly blacked out.
But I held on.
With my bloodied, broken hands, I weakly gestured toward the paper and pen on the coffee table in the living room.
"Draw up an agreement."
Morgan was stunned, totally confused by what I meant.
"What... what kind of agreement?"
I gave a smile that was uglier than crying.
I said, "A divorce agreement.
"For the asset division, I want 30% of Arthur Group's shares."
"And," I paused, my eyes cold as ice as I stared him down, "you're the one who destroyed my hands. If anything goes wrong during the surgery, if my hands shake, if I mess up a command, and the operation fails, all the risks and consequences are on you, Morgan.
"You need to sign a separate surgical risk statement."
Morgan's eyes reddened instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, like he was seeing me for the first time.
"Eileen! You... you're kicking me when I'm down!"
"Yes," I admitted calmly, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "I'm exploiting the situation. You don't have to agree."
Ring! Ring! Ring!
The phone on the table went off like crazy, its screen flashing "Central Hospital", like a summons from the grim reaper.
Morgan's body went rigid.
He looked at me, then at the phone, and his face grew paler by the second.
Despair closed in on him, leaving him no room to breathe.
He knew he had no choice.
His father's life was now in the very hands he himself had shattered.
"I'll sign... I'll sign! I'll sign whatever you want!"
He nearly lunged at the coffee table, snatched up the pen, and with shaking hands, wrote out the agreement that would make him pay a heavy price.
Divorce papers, transfer of shares, risk waiver...
I stood behind him, watching with cold, emotionless eyes as he signed.
Every signature was like a blade slicing through his heart.