Chapter 3

Alicia POV

I was sent to the hospital.

The wound on my right hand was deep; glass fragments had severed the nerves that had just begun to heal. The doctor sighed repeatedly as he stitched me up. "Alicia, this hand of yours was already severely traumatized. Now, with such an injury, you'll struggle even to hold heavy objects in the future, let alone perform delicate movements. Why don't you take better care of yourself?"

I stared at the ceiling. The anesthetic dulled the pain, leaving only a deep numbness.

"It doesn't matter," I murmured. "Anyway, I won't be needing it anymore."

After the stitches were done, I sat alone in the hospital room. No family, no one to stay with me.

Until that afternoon, the door to the room opened.

It wasn't Nathan who walked in, but Seraphina.

She was dressed in a black designer gown, her makeup flawless. She carried a fruit basket, walking to my bedside like a victor.

"Alicia, does your hand still hurt?" Seraphina casually placed the fruit basket on the bedside table, a hypocritical smile on her lips. "Nathan was going to come see you, but the company had an impromptu media appreciation event, and he couldn't get away. So he asked me to check on you for him."

I closed my eyes, too weary to even glance at her. "Get out."

Seraphina didn't get angry. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat down, meticulously smoothing her skirt.

"Alicia, I actually feel sorry for you. You ruined your hand for Nathan, thinking that would tie him to you for life. But you forgot, men are always drawn to strength. Nathan is an eagle. He needs someone who can face media cameras with him, who can battle it out in the public arena. Not a broken bird that just sits in a cage and weeps."

I snapped my eyes open, staring coldly at her.

Seraphina flinched under my icy gaze but quickly regained her arrogance.

"Nathan said you've been home for too long these past few years, completely out of touch with society, which is why you've become so sensitive and hysterical. To help 'cure' you, he's decided to have you attend the Harrison Group's charity gala tonight."

My brows furrowed. "I won't go."

"That's not up to you," Seraphina chuckled, leaning closer to my ear.

"Nathan said if you don't show up tonight, he'll immediately cut off all funding for your parents' care at the Swiss sanatorium, including the life-support ventilator. You know he always means what he says."

I shuddered, my hands gripping the bedsheet tightly.

Nathan, he was actually threatening me with my parents' lives!

That evening, I was forcibly taken to the Harrison Group's gala by bodyguards.

I wasn't seated at the main table, nor was a gown prepared for me.

Seraphina tossed me a server's uniform, pointing to the beverage area in the corner of the ballroom.

"Nathan said that since you need to re-integrate into society, you should start with basic service. Tonight, you're responsible for serving drinks to the VIP guests. This is also part of a PR strategy, to showcase the Harrison family's humble side."

I looked at the cheap uniform, then at my right hand, wrapped in thick bandages.

I used to be a genius who gave speeches at international medical forums. Now, I was being forced to serve drinks here.

This was Nathan's "punishment" for me.

I didn't resist. I numbly changed into the uniform and picked up the heavy tray. The weight of the tray pressed down on my injured right hand. With every step, the wound felt like it was tearing open, and cold sweat broke out in layers.

The ballroom glittered with well-dressed guests, buzzing with conversation.

Nathan stood in the center of the crowd, impeccably handsome in his bespoke suit. Seraphina held his arm, smiling brightly, effortlessly engaging with various media outlets and business moguls, a perfect match.

Many guests who once knew me recognized me, casting shocked and disdainful glances my way.

"Isn't that Alicia? The former genius surgeon, how did she end up serving drinks?"

"I heard she ruined her hand for Nathan. He supported her for a few years, but now he's probably tired of her."

"How pathetic. Look at her poor state; she can't even compare to a single finger of Seraphina, who is the Harrison Group's PR Queen."

Those whispers were like poisoned darts, piercing my ears relentlessly.

I clenched my teeth, desperately trying to control the trembling in my right hand as I carried the wine glasses towards the VIP section.

Just as I passed Seraphina, she suddenly stuck out her foot.

I was already struggling to walk and had no time to dodge. I stumbled forward, crashing down.

The massive champagne tower was knocked over by me. Hundreds of glasses shattered instantly, and expensive wine splashed all over me.

I fell heavily onto the floor covered in broken glass. My already injured right hand was severely re-pierced by the glass, and blood immediately stained my white uniform.

The entire hall fell silent. Countless media flashes instantly lit up, frantically capturing this humiliating scene.

All eyes were on me, as if I were a ridiculous clown.