Chapter 4

Alicia POV

"Ah!" Seraphina gasped, dramatically taking two steps back.

She frowned, looking at the splashes of wine on her skirt.

"Alicia, even if you have a problem with me, there's no need to intentionally cause trouble in front of so many media, is there? Do you have any idea how much negative impact this will have on the company's public image?"

Nathan's face instantly darkened to an extreme.

He strode over, not even glancing at me, trembling and lying in a pool of blood. His first action was to take off his jacket and drape it over Seraphina, shielding her from the media's cameras, asking nervously, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Seraphina shook her head, biting her lower lip with a wronged expression. "I'm fine, but it's a shame about this dress you custom-ordered for me. Tomorrow's headlines probably won't look good."

Nathan turned, his gaze like a knife, cutting into me.

"Alicia, how long are you going to be insane?!" His voice was laced with extreme suppressed fury. "I brought you here to learn how to be a normal person, not to make a spectacle of yourself! Apologize to Seraphina immediately! Apologize to the media present!"

I lay on the glass-strewn floor, my right hand already numb with pain.

I slowly lifted my head, my pale face devoid of color. I stared intently at Nathan.

"I didn't intentionally cause trouble; she tripped me," my voice was weak, yet unusually firm.

"Enough!" Nathan cut me off sharply. "What is Seraphina's position? She's the Harrison Group's Chief PR. Does she need to resort to such despicable methods to deal with you? Look at you now, full of lies, consumed by jealousy! I'm so disappointed in you!"

Disappointed?

I let out a bitter laugh. I had given him my life, and all I got in return was his disappointment.

"Since you refuse to apologize, then clean this mess up," Nathan gave the cruel order. "Use your hands to pick up every single piece of broken glass. If you don't finish, you're not allowed to go home tonight."

The surrounding guests gasped.

Making a bleeding person with a severely traumatized hand pick up broken glass was nothing short of torture.

But no one dared to plead for me.

I looked at Nathan's cold, merciless face and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. Was this really the man who once knelt, kissed my scars, and vowed to protect me for a lifetime?

I didn't cry, nor did I beg for mercy.

I simply lowered my head, extended my blood-soaked right hand, and began picking up a piece of broken glass from the floor.

The sharp edge cut my skin again, and blood dripped onto the clean marble floor.

One piece, two pieces, three pieces...

Nathan instinctively wanted to step forward and stop me, but Seraphina gently tugged at his sleeve at that moment. "Nathan, I feel so dizzy. I might have been startled. My panic attack is acting up again, and the media are still filming."

Nathan's attention was instantly diverted. He scooped Seraphina into his arms, casting a cold glance at me. "You stay here and reflect properly!"

With that, escorted by bodyguards, he carried Seraphina and left the ballroom without looking back.

I heard his receding footsteps, but my hands didn't stop.

Until excessive blood loss and intense pain completely overwhelmed my consciousness, my vision went black, and I collapsed heavily into the pile of broken glass.

When I woke again, I found myself back in a hospital bed.

The room was empty, save for an expensive designer bag on the bedside table and a note left by Nathan.

"The bag is your compensation. I was impulsive last night, but you're also at fault. I'll be with Seraphina in New York for the next few days to handle an urgent PR crisis. Recover well in the hospital, and don't cause any more trouble."

I looked at the note, my eyes calm as a still pool of water.

I didn't tear the note, nor did I throw the bag away. I simply pressed the call button and summoned a nurse.

"Please throw this bag in the trash, thank you."

The nurse looked shocked. "Alicia, this is a limited edition, worth tens of thousands of dollars! Mr. Harrison's face was terrifyingly pale when he brought you in; he waited outside the ER the whole time. If Seraphina hadn't had a sudden panic attack and needed the emergency room, he definitely wouldn't have left. He still cares about you..."

"Just throw it away. It's dirty." I closed my eyes, cutting off the nurse.

I took out my phone and opened Instagram.

The first post was Seraphina's, half an hour ago.

In the photo, Seraphina reclined in a first-class airplane seat, holding a glass of champagne. In the background was Nathan's profile, looking at documents.

The caption: "Even a small fright means someone is willing to drop everything and fly halfway across the globe to clear my mind. It feels good to be loved."

I scrolled past the post expressionlessly, then dialed my lawyer.

"Lawyer, is the divorce agreement ready? Send it to me; I'll sign it."