Chapter 4

When Claire and Heather noticed that I was awake, they immediately stopped talking. Heather stammered in a probing tone, "C-Christopher, you didn't hear anything just now, right?"

I shook my head, and it was clear they were relieved.

Heather came over to hold my hand. "Christopher, don't listen to what anyone says. With me here, no one dares speak badly of you."

I gazed at her, my heart already broken. Wasn't she the one behind everything that had happened to me?

Not only did she destroy me physically, but she also broke me mentally. She was the one who didn't want me to recover and wanted me to become a complete wreck.

Heather cleared her throat before speaking hesitantly. "Christopher, our engagement photos won't turn out well with all your injuries at the moment.

"Why don't we have Samuel stand in for you, and we'll just edit your face onto his?"

Since the person in the photos could be substituted, maybe the groom could also be changed.

The moment I opened my mouth to protest, the pain in my ankle flared. I didn't even want to imagine what would happen if I refused her.

In the end, I simply nodded silently. Claire's frown gradually eased when she saw my reaction. "Christopher has always been sensible. He won't fuss over something that trivial."

Heather excused herself to take a call outside. When she came back, she said apologetically, "Claire and I have something important to take care of tonight. You'll have to look after yourself."

A while later, they went out to buy lunch.

When the nurse came to change my IV, she muttered indignantly, "Mr. Bowman, I can't believe they're going to go celebrate a race win when you're in this state. They clearly don't care about you."

That was the moment I finally understood that I was the one nobody cared about. After some time, Samuel suddenly came in and punched my injured ankle.

"Now that you're barely alive, do you still think you can compete with me? Tonight, Heather and Claire will be at my celebration. While we'll be clinking glasses, you'll be lying in this cold hospital bed, waiting for your end."

The pain left me soaked in sweat, my body trembling nonstop. I snapped, "Samuel, you lowlife! You didn't even win that trophy fairly. You'll always be inferior to me."

Samuel raised an eyebrow disdainfully. "You seriously won't learn until it's too late, huh? Maybe I should help you meet your end a little sooner."

He grabbed the fruit knife nearby, raising it over his head with both hands. Unable to move freely, I could only close my eyes and accept my fate.

A scream sounded, but I felt no pain. When I opened my eyes, I saw Samuel clutching his stomach before collapsing to the floor.

Just then, Heather and Claire came in and noticed that Samuel was bleeding from the stomach.

Storming over, Heather slapped me across the face. "Have you lost your mind, Christopher? Samuel came to see you out of goodwill. How could you stab him with a knife?"

Samuel flashed me a sinister smile before a look of grievance appeared on his face. "I just wanted to peel an apple for Christopher, but then he said that the trophy belonged to him and that he was going to kill me as I was inferior to him…"

Claire slapped the other side of my face. "Samuel won fair and square. How petty can you be? I'm really disappointed in you."

Heather, fuming, ordered her bodyguards, "Dump Christopher in the closest rainforest! He can come back when he finally learns his lesson!"

I screamed desperately for them not to do this to me, but they couldn't care less about me. All they cared about was Samuel's injury.

That evening, at the celebration, someone tried to drink with Samuel, but Heather stopped them.

"Samuel's injured. He can't drink. I'll drink his share for today."

Later, someone jeered, "Samuel, aren't you supposed to take the engagement photos on Christopher's behalf? Why don't you raise a glass in his place as well?"

Samuel picked up a glass of juice from the side, looking expectantly at Heather.

Heather said graciously, "Since it's a happy occasion, I'll go along with it."

Just as they were about to toast to each other, a bodyguard burst into the room, holding a torn, blood-stained shirt. "Ms. Vega, Mr. Bowman is missing. He may already be dead."