3

Silence fell inside the private room.

Even the loud music coming from outside seemed to suddenly disappear.

Celia Morgan was still kneeling on the floor, her head lowered until her forehead almost touched the luxurious carpet, while her body trembled non-stop.

She wasn't trembling because she wanted to provoke anyone's pity...

But because she no longer knew how to stand before Junior Hamilton without fear choking her.

As for the men sitting around the table, they exchanged confused glances.

One of them whispered:

"Is... is this the same Celia Morgan?"

Another replied:

"Impossible... I remember her well. She was the most beautiful girl at the high-society parties."

A third man sighed as he looked at her.

"She used to enter any event and everyone would turn to look at her."

Junior raised his eyes toward her again.

And for the first time...

He looked at her attentively.

She was completely different.

Her shiny hair that she always took care of had disappeared, and had become dull, reaching her shoulders in a messy way.

As for her face...

It had become painfully pale.

Her sunken cheeks made the bones of her face more prominent, as if she hadn't tasted real food in a long time.

Even the waitress clothes she was wearing seemed loose on her.

Tight at the shoulders...

Loose around her thin waist.

One of his friends said laughing:

"Prison has done wonders to her."

But Junior did not laugh.

He kept staring at her in silence.

An old image began to creep into his memory...

Three years ago...

At one of the businessmen's parties.

Celia was wearing a simple blue dress, even though all the girls were showing off the most expensive designs.

She smiled kindly at everyone.

But whenever she spotted him from afar...

She hesitated for a moment...

Then approached shyly.

"Good evening, Mr. Hamilton."

He would answer her with a cold nod.

Then leave.

And at every party...

She would do the same thing.

She never asked him for anything.

She never tried to touch his hand.

And she never forced herself on him.

She would just say hello...

Then look at him from afar with a small smile.

He also remembered how his friends used to make fun of her.

"It seems Morgan's daughter is in love with you."

He would answer coldly:

"I don't care."

Then continue his conversation as if she didn't exist.

He returned to the present.

He looked at the woman kneeling before him.

Where did that girl go?

Rather...

Is this even the same person?

He said in a cold voice:

"Lift your head."

Celia trembled even more.

But she didn't move.

He repeated his order, in a sharper tone.

"I said lift your head."

She slowly raised her head.

Tears filled her eyes.

But she was trying to prevent them from falling.

Their gazes locked for a few moments.

Junior felt something strange.

In the past...

She used to look at him with obvious admiration.

But now...

He saw nothing in her eyes but terror.

Real terror.

As if she was looking at someone capable of killing her at any moment.

He frowned.

"Are you acting?"

She shook her head quickly.

"No... no, sir."

"Then why are you trembling?"

She couldn't answer.

How could she tell him...

That just hearing his voice brings her back to the prison nights?

How could she tell him...

That his name was repeated on the guards' tongues every time they beat her?

"These are orders from Mr. Hamilton..."

She heard that sentence every day.

Until she came to believe that every blow she received...

Was by his order.

Her head lowered again.

"I'm sorry..."

Junior's eyes narrowed.

He expected her to defend herself.

To cry.

To scream.

To accuse him.

But she...

Was apologizing.

Always apologizing.

One of the men said sarcastically:

"Boss, it seems she finally learned manners."

Junior smiled a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

No...

There is something that doesn't seem logical.

Even if she was a brilliant actress...

This fear is exaggerated.

Or is she...

That good at acting?

He rose from his place slowly.

He was tall, so that standing before her he seemed like a wall that could not be passed.

Celia's breath stopped.

With every step he came closer...

She instinctively retreated while still kneeling on her knees.

Until her back hit the table.

There was no more place for her to escape.

Junior leaned a little until his face was close to hers.

He said in a low voice:

"Look at me."

She raised her eyes with difficulty.

He contemplated her features for a few moments.

He found no trace of makeup.

Nor any artificial appearance.

But he found exhaustion...

And sadness...

And a fear whose source he did not understand.

He stepped away from her.

Then he took out a checkbook from his jacket pocket.

He wrote a large number.

He tore off the check.

And placed it on the table in front of her.

The eyes of everyone present widened.

One of them said in astonishment:

"Boss...!"

As for Junior, he didn't turn to him.

He only looked at Celia.

Then he pointed to a bottle of expensive wine that was on the table.

And said coldly:

"Drink it all."

Her hand trembled.

"Sir... I..."

He interrupted her without changing his expression.

"If you finish the bottle..."

He pushed the check toward her.

"All this money will be yours."

Silence fell.

Celia was looking at the check...

Then at the bottle...

And her heart was beating violently.

For she knew very well...

That her weak body would not be able to handle all this amount of alcohol.

But she also knew...

That there was someone waiting for her in the hospital...

And this might be her last chance to save him.