3

Silence prevailed inside the private room.

Even the loud music coming from outside seemed to have suddenly disappeared.

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 arouse anyone's pity...

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

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

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 would enter any event and everyone would turn to her."

Junior raised his gaze towards her again.

And for the first time...

He looked at her carefully.

She was completely different.

Her shiny hair that she always took care of had disappeared, and had become dull reaching her shoulders in an untidy 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 for a long time.

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

Tight at the shoulders...

Wide around her thin waist.

One of his friends said laughing:

"Prison did wonders to her."

But Junior didn't laugh.

He kept staring at her in silence.

An old image began to sneak 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 was smiling kindly at everyone.

But whenever she caught sight of 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 did the same thing.

She didn't ask him for anything.

She didn't try to touch his hand.

And she didn't impose herself on him.

She was content to say hello...

Then look at him from afar with a small smile.

He also remembers how his friends used to mock 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 in front of him.

Where did that girl go?

Rather...

Is this even the same person?

He said in a cold voice:

"Lift your head."

Celia trembled more.

But she didn't move.

He repeated his order, in a sharper tone.

"I said lift your head."

She raised her head very slowly.

Tears were filling her eyes.

But she was trying to prevent them from falling.

Their gazes held for moments.

Junior felt something strange.

In the past...

She looked at him with clear admiration.

But now...

He saw nothing in her eyes but terror.

Real terror.

As if she were looking at a person 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 takes her back to the prison nights?

How could she tell him...

That his name was repeated on the guards' tongues whenever 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...

Something 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 in front of her he seemed like a wall that could not be crossed.

Celia's breath stopped.

The closer he got...

The more she instinctively retreated while still kneeling on her knees.

Until her back hit the table.

There was no place left for her to escape.

Junior bent a little until his face was close to her face.

He said in a low voice:

"Look at me."

She raised her eyes with difficulty.

He contemplated her features for moments.

He found no trace of makeup.

Nor any artificial appearance.

But he found exhaustion...

And sadness...

And fear whose source he didn't understand.

He moved a step away from her.

Then he took out a checkbook from his suit 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 all 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 his expression changing.

"If you finish the bottle..."

He pushed the check towards her.

"All this money will be yours."

Silence prevailed.

Celia was looking at the check...

Then at the bottle...

And her heart was beating violently.

For she knew well...

That her weak body would not bear 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.