Chapter 9

The office area fell into a dead silence.

Bella's expression shifted instantly. She stood up instinctively, her voice sharp and defensive. "What the hell are you doing here? Boss doesn't allow family members at headquarters!"

I met her gaze directly. "Since when did that start?"

I pulled out the frozen black card and placed it on the mahogany desk of the front-desk secretary. "Did you freeze this, or did Vince?"

Bella's face flushed a deep red. "How would I know anything about your cards?"

"Fine." I nodded slowly. "I'll ask him myself."

I turned toward the inner office.

Bella suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my wrist—the exact spot where my intravenous catheter was still taped.

"You can't just barge in there! Boss is on an important call—"

A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm.

The needle had been jerked sideways under my skin, and blood began to seep out, dripping down my hand.

I furrowed my brow and pushed her back with my other hand.

Then, I swung my palm across her face.

The sound of the slap echoed through the sterile office.

Bella clutched her cheek, staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"You... you hit me?"

I rolled up my sleeve, pulled out the crooked needle, and pressed my thumb firmly against the bleeding puncture point. "You grabbed my IV line first. Have you ever had one? Do you have any idea how much it hurts when it's ripped out?"

I stared her down. "So stop looking so shocked."

Resentment flared in Bella's eyes. "I am the Boss's right hand. He's in a meeting, and I was just doing my job! How dare you—"

"Oh, save it." I cut her off and looked toward the other secretaries. "You all heard what happened, right? She grabbed me first."

No one dared to make a sound.

At that moment, the heavy office door swung open.

Vince stepped out, his brow deeply furrowed in frustration. "What the hell is going on out here?"

Bella immediately threw herself into his arms. "Vince, Ava hit me! I was only trying to stop her from interrupting your call, and she just—"

Vince's face darkened.

He looked at me, his eyes burning with intense anger. "Ava, what the hell are you doing?"

I lifted my wrist, which was still dripping blood. "She grabbed my IV catheter. She made me bleed."

Vince froze for a second, his gaze falling on my hand.

But his anger didn't vanish.

"Where the hell have you been? You look like—" He paused, seemingly struggling to suppress an emotion. "Look at yourself!"

I looked back at him, my expression perfectly calm. "I wasn't in hell, Vince. I was at the hospital. I told you last time that I wasn't feeling well. Remember?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a stack of medical documents—diagnostic reports, pathology results, chemotherapy logs, and a list of medications.

I threw them all at his feet.

The papers scattered across the floor, fluttering like dead leaves.

The word "Adenocarcinoma" was printed in bold, clinical letters on the very top report, staring back at him.