Chapter 3

Eva's POV

Less than half an hour after the press conference ended, I dragged my pale, exhausted body toward the side alley of Sterling Enterprises. Before I could make it out, the sharp click of high heels sounded behind me.

"Why are you running so fast?"

Melanie stood under the hallway light, draped in an expensive, light-colored designer coat. The gentle smile she had worn for the cameras was gone, replaced by a venomous sneer.

I stopped and pressed my hand tightly over the bloody check in my pocket.

"I got the money. Leave me alone."

"You got a check that's basically pennies to us, and you think this is over?"

Melanie stepped closer, looking down her nose at my dirty, gray janitor uniform.

"Evangeline Vance. You used to be the great Vance family heiress. Now look at you, begging Julian for scrap money in front of the whole city. No wonder he looks at you like you're garbage."

My fists clenched, my knuckles turning white. "You put those files in my locker, Melanie. You know it was you."

Melanie laughed, not even bothering to deny it. "Yeah, I did. So what?"

I snapped my head up, staring at her.

Melanie stepped closer, whispering in my ear. "But do you have proof? The cameras in that hallway conveniently broke. The locker only has your fingerprints on it. And now, the entire media just saw how greedy you are. Who would believe you? Julian?"

Just then, a couple of employees walked past the other end of the hallway. Melanie's eyes flicked over, and she instantly reached out, gently smoothing down my dirty collar like a caring friend.

But the moment they were out of sight, her fingers dug deep into the skin near my collarbone, pinching me hard.

"You better keep your mouth shut! Julian already thinks you're a pathetic thief. He hates even hearing your name."

She shoved me hard. My back slammed against the rough brick wall. A dull, agonizing pain shot up from my abdomen as my surgical wound stretched.

I broke out in a cold sweat, but I didn't make a sound. I just glared at her. "You're scared. You're scared I'll talk about the clinical trials."

Melanie's face darkened, but she quickly recovered with a cold smirk. "Why would I be scared? You signed the papers yourself. You went into that test group voluntarily. Even if you die on the operating table, it's just a 'normal complication' listed on your consent form!"

My heart skipped a beat, feeling like it was filled with shattered glass.

Satisfied by my silent despair, Melanie reached into her designer bag, pulled out a gold credit card, and slapped it against my cheek.

"Aren't you desperate for money to save your life? Here's a little extra."

I didn't reach for it.

So Melanie grabbed my collar and shoved the card down the front of my shirt.

"Tomorrow is Sterling's Annual Charity Gala. I want you to go on stage and give a speech."

"About what?"

"Tell everyone how you went from the high-and-mighty Vance heiress to a pathetic janitor at Sterling Enterprises. Tell them how it feels to be stepped on."

Melanie's voice was light, airy, and dripping with malice.

"Make it sad. Make it real. The rich folks at the gala love a good story about someone falling from grace."

My hands shook. "That's public humiliation."

"Exactly," Melanie giggled. "I want to humiliate you."

The alley was dead silent, save for the howling wind.

Melanie tapped my cheek. "Eva, do you really think you're in any position to say no? If you don't take this money, the hospital will cut off your treatment tomorrow. Besides, your job isn't done yet. I still have the rest of your payout."

My fingertips were freezing.

Melanie was like a snake, biting exactly where it hurt.

I needed the money. I was dying. I had to pay the hospital bills.

And somewhere deep inside, a stupid, pathetic part of me still hoped Julian would search for the truth.

But today, Julian had thrown that check at my feet.

He wasn't going to look for the truth. He just wanted me gone.

I reached down and gripped the gold card in my chest pocket.

Melanie smiled. "That's a good girl. Play the clown nicely tomorrow, and don't ruin the mood."

"How much?" I asked.

Melanie blinked.

I gripped the card tighter. "I want to know the exact amount. Verbal promises mean nothing to me."

"Always about the money. You really are cheap," Melanie spat.

"Yes," I looked at her with empty eyes. "I only care about the money."

Melanie looked at me like I was a stray dog. "There's fifty thousand on this card. Do a good job tomorrow, and I'll give you another hundred thousand."

"Write it down," I demanded, holding my ground. "Julian promised me dignity today, and look how that turned out."

Annoyed, Melanie raised her hand to slap me.

But I grabbed her wrist!

I used every ounce of strength I had left. The wound in my abdomen ripped completely, and warm blood began to soak through my gray uniform.

My face was as white as a ghost, but my grip didn't loosen. "Write. It. Down."

Terrified by the sheer desperation in my eyes, Melanie took a step back. She wrenched her wrist free, pulled a notepad and a pen from her bag, scribbled a note, and slapped it onto my chest.

"A hundred thousand after the gala! Happy now, you freak?"

Melanie turned and walked away in her high heels. After a few steps, she looked back with a wicked smile.

"Oh, by the way. Julian will be there tomorrow."

"When you're up there begging like a dog, make sure to look him in the eyes. Let him see what his ex-wife is willing to do for a few bucks."

I didn't look back.

The cold wind blew down the alley, plastering the bloody uniform against my skin.

The pain was so bad I couldn't even stand straight, but I held the note and the card tightly in my hand.

Pain didn't matter. Humiliation didn't matter.

As long as the money was real, I could take it.

As soon as I walked out of the Sterling building, my phone buzzed violently.

It was a final notice from the hospital.

I glanced at the screen, turned it off, and kept walking.

I had to go to the gala tomorrow.