8

Finally, the lights in the operating room went out.

Celia jumped up from her seat suddenly, almost losing her balance.

The door opened, and the doctor came out.

She hurried towards him, her voice trembling:

"Doctor... how is my mother?"

The doctor took off his mask and smiled a tired but reassuring smile.

"The operation was successful. She is still under anesthesia and needs a few hours of monitoring, but her life is no longer in danger."

Celia's legs went weak, and she almost fell to the ground.

She held onto the wall, closed her eyes, while her tears flowed silently.

"Thank you... thank you so much..."

The doctor patted her shoulder gently.

"Go and get some rest... you look more exhausted than the patient herself."

Celia shook her head and smiled a smile that barely formed on her lips.

"I... I want to wait until she wakes up."

The doctor didn't pressure her, just nodded, then left.

Celia entered the waiting area next to the monitoring room and sat on the closest chair to her mother's wing.

She placed her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her palms.

Finally... everything is finally over.

The nightmare of the three years... those dark days... the whips and the insults and the despair...

At this moment, she felt that all of that had meaning.

She took a deep breath, wiped her tears, and tried to regain her composure.

And at that exact moment...

At the end of the hallway, confident footsteps echoed, accompanied by the voices of assistants reporting schedules.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Celia instinctively raised her head.

And her blood froze in her veins in an instant.

Junior Hamilton.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, with Ryan and two senior hospital officials behind him, heading towards the direction where she was sitting.

His eyes were fixed on the file in his hand, and he didn't notice her at first.

But as he was passing by her — he involuntarily raised his gaze.

His steps stopped.

Celia's breathing suddenly stopped.

She instinctively lowered her head and buried her face in her palms, as if by doing so she could make herself disappear.

But it was too late.

Junior stopped, and turned his head towards her, contemplating her as she huddled on the seat.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said to those around him:

"Go ahead, I will catch up with you."

Ryan and the senior officials exchanged glances, then left understandingly.

Only the two of them remained in the hallway.

Celia did not raise her head, and her fingers were gripping the edge of her dress tightly, until her knuckles turned white.

Junior stood in front of her and said in a tone that carried no clear emotion:

"What are you doing here?"

Celia felt as if her throat had closed, so she couldn't utter a single word.

He waited for moments, and no answer came, so he frowned slightly.

"Did you come to my hospital to ask me for something?"

Celia shook her head violently, and finally managed to get her voice out:

"No... I didn't follow you... I'm just..."

But she couldn't finish the sentence.

She didn't dare tell him about her mother.

She didn't dare let him know her mother's name.

She didn't dare give him any chance to hurt the only person left for her in this world.

She had suffered years in prison, and she knew very well how Junior Hamilton worked.

If he knew her mother was here... if he wanted revenge...

She didn't even dare think about it.

So she swallowed all the words, lowered her head, and said in a trembling voice:

"I... was just passing through here... I will leave immediately."

She got up to run away.

But Junior, at the moment she passed by him, grabbed her wrist.

"Passing through?"

His voice carried a clear coldness.

"This hospital is not open to everyone... you say you were just passing through?"

Celia's entire body stiffened.

She felt his fingers closing on the bone of her wrist, not with great force, but enough to prevent her from escaping.

She bit her lip and tried with all her strength not to cry.

"I... I will leave right away... please, let me go..."

Junior looked at her trembling shoulders, and at her thin body that had almost become a skeleton, and at her inability to even raise her head to him.

Then he remembered the scars he had seen on her back.

His features became more disapproving without him realizing it.

And suddenly, he released her wrist and stepped back.

Celia thought he would finally let her go, and was about to step —

But he suddenly turned around, struck his hand on her waist, and pushed her behind the emergency stairwell door.

The door closed behind her with a loud thud.

In the darkness, her back hit the cold wall.

And before she could scream, his lips had pressed against hers.

It was not a soft kiss.

It was a kiss that carried anger and confusion and something deeper, which he himself could not explain.

He placed his palm behind her head, and the other hand on the wall next to her ear, trapping her in his shadow.

Celia's mind stopped working for moments.

She froze, forgot to breathe, forgot to resist.

When he finally pulled away from her, her lips had reddened slightly from the intensity of the kiss, and her eyes had filled with tears.

Junior was panting, his forehead almost touching hers, and his voice was low and mixed with command:

"Don't come to places like this again."

Celia was trembling violently and couldn't stand without leaning against the wall.

He stepped back, regained his usual composure, and straightened his suit collar.

Then, as if he remembered something fleeting, he said in an indifferent tone:

"Tomorrow at nine in the morning, report to the headquarters of the Hamilton Group."

Celia raised her head in confusion.

"...What?"

Junior did not look at her, and opened the stairwell door.

"The cleaning department needs staff. If you are really short of money, don't go to shady places."

He closed the door behind him.

His footsteps faded in the hallway.

Celia's body remained slowly sliding down the wall until she sat on the floor.

She raised her hand to her lips, where the trace of his breath was still lingering there.

Her heart was beating violently, and she didn't know if it was because of fear... or because of something else.

She closed her eyes and buried her face between her knees.

"Cleaning..."

She repeated the word in a low voice.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled a faint smile.

It was a bitter smile, no doubt.

But at least... it was an honest job opportunity.

At least... she wouldn't have to go back to those places to serve drinks anymore.

And she had lost the luxury of choice a long time ago.

The next day, at eight fifty.

Celia stood in front of the glass door of the headquarters of the Hamilton Group, wearing an old, faded shirt.

She raised her head towards the towering skyscraper, took a deep breath, then pushed the door and entered.