Chapter 31

"Don't touch me..."

Susan Thompson struggled desperately, her entire body trembling from the excruciating pain in her left hand. Even though Andrew Lucas had long discarded her like trash, she still refused to let him see her at her most wretched state.

Her right hand feebly clawed at the air, trying to break free from Andrew's grip. But her resistance was laughable against his strength. The bandage, glued to her wound by dried blood, tore away as he yanked it, sending a wave of agony so intense she nearly blacked out.

"Stop pretending!" Andrew sneered, tightening his grip abruptly.

"Ah—!"

A piercing scream tore from Susan's throat as she curled into a fetal position. Cold sweat drenched her hospital gown in seconds, her vision flickering in and out of darkness.

Andrew's mocking words died in his throat.

His gaze locked onto the mutilated hand, his pupils contracting violently. The jagged wound where her finger should have been still oozed blood, pus mingling with crimson in a grotesque sight.

"Where is your finger?!"

He seized her shoulder, his voice laced with terrifying fury. His knuckles turned white from the force, as if he meant to crush her bones.

"Speak! Who did this?!"

Susan had already passed out from the pain, collapsing limply into his arms.

"Susan!"

Andrew scooped her up and stormed out of the apartment. The elevator was too slow—he took the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the empty stairwell.

"It hurts..."

Her faint whimper sent a jolt through his chest.

"Hold on. We're almost at the hospital." His voice softened instinctively.

"Andrew..." Susan murmured deliriously. "My heart... hurts..."

His arms tightened around her, his own heart seized by an invisible fist. He quickened his pace, his black trench coat flapping behind him in the night wind.

In the hospital corridor, a team of specialists waited nervously.

"Fix her." Andrew grabbed the lead doctor by the collar. "I don't want to hear her cry in pain again!"

The doctor glanced at Susan's lifeless form on the bed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "M-Mr. Lucas, about the patient's severed finger—"

"Can you reattach it?" Andrew's voice was hoarse. "Money is no object. I want her whole again!"

Leo Miller, his assistant, cautiously approached. "Sir, should we check Willow Lane?"

"No need." Andrew's eyes darkened. "It's not there."

Leo sucked in a sharp breath. Did his boss already...? He didn't dare finish the thought, hesitating as he reached for his phone. Should he inform the Lucas family?

"Interfere, and you're fired." Andrew shot him a chilling glare.

Inside the room, specialists worked to stitch Susan's wound. Andrew stood by the window, unaware of the cigarette burning down to his fingers. Only when the searing pain hit did he snap back to reality.

At dusk, Susan finally opened her eyes.

Andrew loomed over her immediately, his bloodshot eyes boring into hers. "Where is the finger?"

"Fed it to the dogs," she replied flatly.

"Who did this?!" He seized her wrist, his voice trembling with something even he didn't recognize. "Susan, tell me the truth!"

Susan stared at the ceiling, her lips curling into a bleak smile.

That answer—she would take it to her grave.