Chapter 5

Eva's POV

By the time I finished at the clinic, the money I had left wasn't even enough for a basic painkiller shot.

The nurse at the counter pushed the bill back to me with a cold look. "Since you can't pay the balance, we're stopping your antibiotics and pain meds today."

I nodded quietly, folded the bill, and put it in my pocket.

My abdominal wound had started leaking pus and blood. The rough gauze was stuck to my flesh, and every step felt like a rusty knife twisting in my stomach.

I couldn't afford a taxi, so I had to walk all the way back to the Sterling building in the freezing rain. My old backpack was still in my locker at the back entrance. It held everything I owned, including the last photo of my father.

By the time I reached the back gate, it was pitch black.

I leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to slip through the employee entrance, but two security guards blocked me.

"Stop right there! Aren't you the janitor who got fired yesterday?" one of them sneered. "Management gave strict orders. A thief like you isn't allowed anywhere near this property."

My throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire. "I just want my backpack..."

"How do we know you're not trying to steal more stuff?" The guard shoved my shoulder hard. "Get lost! Don't die on our doorstep. It's bad luck."

I was already weak from the fever, and the shove sent me crashing against the rough brick wall. My vision went black, and I slid down onto the wet pavement.

My gray uniform was covered in mud. I tried to stand up twice, but my legs gave out.

Just then, footsteps came from inside the building.

The guards immediately put on fake, polite smiles.

I forced my head up, looking past the guard's legs.

It was Julian.

He was walking out with his mother, Victoria. She was draped in an expensive wool shawl, looking as arrogant as ever.

Julian saw me on the ground.

But his glance lasted only a fraction of a second. Before I could even beg for help, he looked away in disgust, as if looking at me would dirty his eyes.

Victoria frowned, not hiding her disgust. "Why is she still lingering around like a stray dog?"

The guard quickly tried to take credit. "Ma'am, she claims she's here for her bag. We were just about to kick this thief out!"

"Her bag?" Victoria sneered, walking over to stand right in front of me. "The Vance family is dead and broke. What could possibly belong to you? You stole from our family, and now you're trying to sneak back in?"

My fingernails dug into the cracks of the pavement. "My bag... has my father's picture..."

"Julian," Victoria turned to her son, her voice annoyed. "Melanie is waiting for us at the restaurant. Don't waste your time on trash like her."

Julian was silent for two seconds. Then, he spoke coldly. "Let security handle it. Throw her out of the property."

Those few words crushed the very last ounce of hope I had left.

The guards immediately grabbed my arms, lifting me up roughly.

The sudden movement ripped my wound completely. Warm blood and pus began to run down my leg. I bit my lip hard, tasting iron.

I looked at the man in the expensive suit. "Julian."

He stopped.

"Are you really... not even going to ask?" My voice was as fragile as cracked glass.

Julian didn't turn around. But Victoria snapped at me, "Ask what? Ask how you beg for money on stage? Eva, if you had any decency left, your dead father would be rolling in his grave seeing you like this!"

My face went pale.

Julian finally turned his head. There was no pity in his eyes, only a cold warning. "Enough. Don't mention her father. He doesn't deserve it."

Those words hurt more than any slap Victoria could have given me.

My father had loved Julian like his own son. He used to pat his shoulder and say, "Julian is a good, honorable boy."

My father trusted him, and so did I. But now, Julian was stepping on that trust, grinding it into the mud.

"Throw her out," Julian ordered coldly, walking away.

The guards dragged me like a dead dog and tossed me onto the cold concrete sidewalk outside the main gates.

My knees hit the curb hard, skinning my palms. The cash in my pocket spilled out, fluttering in the wind toward the street.

One of the guards kicked the loose bills toward my face. "Get lost! You make me sick!"

The heavy iron gates slammed shut behind them.

The city traffic hummed in the distance, headlights flashing over my bleeding body.

I crawled on the cold pavement, picking up the dirty bills one by one, smoothing them out, and tucking them back into my pocket.

With trembling hands, I pulled out the worn photo of my father.

The edges were white and frayed. He was standing in front of our old house, smiling so warmly.

I pressed the photo against my bleeding palm, my body shivering like a leaf in the wind.

"Dad..."

My voice was choked with blood.

"I can't... do this anymore."

Julian's car drove off into the night. No one looked back.