Chapter 6

Luther rushed over and gathered Monica into his arms. "Monica was telling me how sorry she felt toward you last night. She even said she wanted to leave once Sean was discharged. And instead of being grateful, you keep hurting her over and over again!"

Blood trickled from Monica's temple as she reached out toward Clara. "Clara's my best friend. I'm not in pain, really. I'm fine!"

Clara watched her performance in silence, then burst out laughing. How absurd that she had loved such a blind fool for over a decade?

"Keep putting on your little show."

She had barely turned around when Luther's furious voice rang out behind her. "You think you can just walk away after hurting Monica? I'll make you pay ten times over!"

Luther summoned his bodyguards and ordered them to pin her to the ground. "Ten bottles. Make sure each one gets used."

One of the bodyguards grabbed a soda bottle and smashed it against Clara's head. The glass shattered, and blood began pouring from the wound.

As Luther carried Monica away, his retreating figure grew smaller until it was blurred by the blood in Clara's eyes. Then came the second bottle, followed by the third, fourth…

Each shattering crash brought another wave of excruciating pain. Soon, she couldn't even make a sound.

Watching this, Niamh tried to rush over to Clara, but Sean shoved her viciously to the ground and began slapping her. "That's what she gets for hitting Mommy!"

Clara struggled to crawl toward Niamh and save her, but the bodyguards dragged her back. Her vision grew increasingly blurry, and even Niamh's cries seemed to fade into the distance.

She wanted to comfort Niamh. Her lips moved several times, but not a single word came out. In the end, she collapsed to the ground.

When Clara woke up again, a sharp pain throbbed in her forehead. Her breath felt scorching hot.

Niamh was repeatedly wiping her forehead with a towel. "Don't leave me, Mommy…"

Clara forced herself to her feet and knocked on the hospital room door. "Could you please get me a doctor?"

The bodyguard outside hesitated briefly before making a phone call for her.

"Why didn't she think about the consequences before hurting Monica?" Luther said icily. "I'm busy with Sean's surgery right now. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it after the operation."

When Clara heard the call disconnect, her body swayed a few times before collapsing. No. She didn't want to die yet. She was so close to leaving this place with Niamh for good.

"Mommy, I know how to save you!"

In her delirium, Clara heard Niamh saying something to the surveillance camera inside the room. A moment later, someone took her away.

Clara tried to get up and stop them, but a violent wave of dizziness defeated her. She fainted once again.

By the time she regained consciousness, her wound had been bandaged, and her fever had subsided.

"Mommy, does this mean you're not dying?" a pale Niamh asked, gently holding Clara's hand.

Clara was just about to comfort her when Niamh's little body collapsed into her arms. Only then did she see the large, gaping wounds on Niamh's bony back. Blood had soaked right through her white dress.

"Niamh!" Clara screamed with much difficulty.

Clutching Niamh, she rushed to the door and pounded on it. "Let me out! Please, someone, save my daughter!"

The bodyguard from earlier was no longer outside. In his place stood Monica.

"Who would've thought a daughter you never raised would be so devoted to you? She was willing to do anything for you."

Through the glass door, Monica watched Clara scrambling to get out. With a smug smile, she took out her phone and played a video.

Clara only had to glance at the screen before her mind cracked with a deafening roar.

In the video, Niamh was sobbing on her knees, repeatedly begging Monica.

"I'll donate more liquid marrow to Sean. In return, please save Mommy."

Monica's high heel planted into Niamh's fingers. Trembling in pain, Niamh forced an ingratiating smile. "I'll do it… if you just let me."

The scene shifted to the operating table.

Niamh's face was already deathly pale, yet she still struggled to arch her back. "Take more. As long as Mommy lives, I'll do anything…"

Clara could no longer hear anything. She hurled herself against the door, her eyes bloodshot with fury.

Monica laughed even more brazenly as she watched. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You want your daughter to compete with my son for the inheritance. Well, don't even dream of it."

With that, Monica walked away without looking back.

"Mommy, I feel so cold and sleepy… Don't cry, Mommy…"

The tiny hand in Clara's arms reached up, trying to wipe her tears. Just as it was about to touch her face, it fell back down.

"Niamh!" Clara screamed hysterically. "I'm right here! Wake up, sweetheart! Open your eyes and look at me, please!"

No matter how desperately she screamed, the tiny body in her arms only grew colder and stiffer.

Niamh had just learned to call her "Mommy". They were so close to finally leaving this place together!

Clara sank to her knees, feeling as though her very soul had been ripped out of her. She held Niamh all night until someone forced the door open from the outside.

"Come with me, Clara!"

The moment she boarded the private plane with Colin Henderson, the tension that had bound Clara for days finally began to ease.

Beyond the airplane window, a sea of clouds rolled beneath the glaring sunlight, so bright it almost brought tears to her eyes.

But it seemed she had already cried every last tear the moment Niamh died in her arms.

Clara rested her forehead against the cold window. At last, she had made up her mind.

Screw friendship and love. The next time she saw Luther and Monica, she would make them pay in blood for blood.