Chapter 8

The squeaking wheels of a hospital gurney racing across the polished floor shattered the silence of the sterile corridor. Morgan strode alongside the nurses as they rushed Camelia's frail body toward the Emergency Department. His face was set in stone, the faint traces of anxiety burying what remained of the anger that had consumed him earlier that afternoon. His hand, which had been holding Camelia's cold fingers, was forced to let go as the emergency room curtains were drawn shut.

A few minutes later, the frosted glass door slid open. A middle-aged doctor with a stethoscope around his neck stepped out, removing his surgical mask with a heavy sigh.

"How is she?" Morgan demanded without preamble, closing the distance until the doctor looked up at him.

"The patient has passed the critical stage caused by severe physical exhaustion and intense emotional shock," the doctor explained, studying Morgan carefully. "According to her medical records, Miss Camelia has a history of significant psychological trauma. Her nervous system automatically activates a defense mechanism—causing syncope, or fainting—whenever she experiences overwhelming emotional stress. Her body simply refuses to process that level of trauma."

Morgan stood frozen.

His gaze drifted through the small glass window in the emergency room door, where Camelia lay motionless, surrounded by monitoring cables and an IV line attached to her pale skin.

Psychological trauma?

The doctor's words echoed through Morgan's mind, stirring an unfamiliar mixture of guilt and confusion deep inside him. He stepped closer to the window, staring at the woman he had always branded as a villain pretending to be a victim.

"Camelia... what exactly have you been through all these years?" Morgan whispered hoarsely, his voice nearly drowned out by the constant hum of hospital machines.

Morgan turned sharply toward his personal assistant, who had been standing a few meters behind him the entire time.

"I want you to find out everything about Camelia," Morgan ordered, his voice low and absolute, allowing no room for argument. "What she did while she was abroad, her medical records, every hardship and threat she's ever faced. I don't want a single detail overlooked."

An hour later, Morgan's black sedan screeched to a stop in front of the luxurious Bagaskara family estate. He entered without knocking, ignoring the trembling greetings of the household staff as they sensed the icy aura radiating from the young tycoon. His footsteps carried him directly into the living room, where Vivian sat leisurely flipping through a fashion magazine.

Vivian jolted in surprise, nearly dropping the magazine when she saw Morgan standing before her, his gaze sharp enough to strip anyone bare.

"M-Morgan? What brings you here so sudd—"

"Vivian, what exactly are you planning?" Morgan interrupted coldly, cutting her off with his deep voice. Folding his arms across his chest, he silently demanded an answer with his intimidating presence.

Though startled at first, Vivian quickly regained her composure. Straightening her back, she crossed her arms and deliberately turned her face away with an expression of disgust.

"You're seriously asking me that, Morgan? You already know I can't stand a man who's slept with another woman! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!"

"You don't want me?" Morgan took a slow step forward, leaning in just enough for Vivian to catch the dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Are you absolutely certain about what you just said, Vivian?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely certain!" Vivian snapped, forcing herself to appear brave despite shrinking beneath Morgan's gaze. Rising from the sofa, she faced him defiantly.

"We should just break up! Our relationship is over!"

A cold, cynical smile slowly spread across Morgan's lips. There wasn't the slightest trace of surprise on his face. Instead, his expression made Vivian feel like prey that had unknowingly wandered into a hunter's trap.

"Vivian, do you really think you can end our relationship that easily?" Morgan hissed, his voice calm yet unmistakably threatening. He stepped forward, forcing Vivian backward until the backs of her knees hit the sofa. "You know our engagement is only three days away. It involves the reputation of two powerful families and hundreds of millions in business interests. You don't get to cancel it simply because of your childish pride."

Without waiting for a reply from the now speechless Vivian, Morgan turned around and walked out, leaving behind a suffocating silence.

As soon as the sound of Morgan's car faded into the distance, Bagaskara emerged from behind one of the dining room pillars. The middle-aged man hurried toward his beloved daughter, who still stood frozen with a tense expression.

"Vivian! What did Morgan say? Are you still going through with the engagement?" Bagaskara asked anxiously, gripping his daughter's shoulders in search of reassurance.

The fear vanished from Vivian's face in an instant, replaced by a chillingly cunning smile. She gently removed her father's hands before walking over to the glass table and picking up a glass of water.

"Of course, Father. The engagement will proceed exactly as we've planned," Vivian replied after taking a sip, her eyes glittering with vengeance. "I provoked him on purpose today. I wanted to make sure Morgan hated that wretched woman even more."

Bagaskara let out a relieved sigh, though a trace of concern still lingered on his face.

"Then what's your next move?"

Vivian slowly swirled the water in her glass, staring at her own reflection filled with ruthless ambition.

"I want Camelia to suffer even more, Father. I'm going to use Morgan's own hands to avenge us. I'll let him believe that Camelia is the one responsible for destroying our relationship... and then I'll let Morgan torment her until her life ends in complete misery."