Chapter 32

Susan Thompson slowly opened her eyes, the antiseptic smell of the hospital room making her frown slightly. The evening light faded outside the window as she stared at her own reflection in the glass, suddenly finding it unfamiliar.

"Andrew." Her voice was soft, as if afraid to disturb something. "If I told you Nicole Capra ordered someone to cut off my fingers, would you believe me?"

Andrew Lucas's eyes turned icy in an instant.

"Susan!" He gripped her chin roughly. "Nicole is still lying in a hospital bed, and you dare slander her?"

Susan laughed, tears streaming down her face.

"See? I knew you wouldn't believe me."

She turned her face toward the window, where neon lights flickered on one by one like countless mocking eyes.

"Andrew, do you remember?" she whispered. "You promised you'd always believe me."

Andrew's hand tightened abruptly, his knuckles turning white.

"Susan, snap out of it!" He forced her face back toward him. "Stop playing the victim!"

Susan looked into his bloodshot eyes and suddenly felt exhausted beyond words.

"Andrew, I don’t want to explain anymore." She closed her eyes. "You won’t believe me no matter what I say. Why humiliate myself?"

Andrew's chest heaved violently as he shoved her away.

"Fine. Perfect!" He sneered. "Susan, I’m warning you—stay away from Nicole. Or else—"

"Or else what?" Susan opened her eyes, staring at him calmly. "Kill me?"

The emptiness in her gaze struck him like a blade. He turned and stormed out.

The door slammed shut with such force that the IV stand trembled.

Susan stared at the ceiling, suddenly remembering that day under the cherry blossoms when a young boy had held her hands and said, "Susan, I’ll always protect you."

How laughable.

With great effort, she pushed herself up and pulled out the IV needle. Daniel’s medical bills were still far from covered—she had no time for self-pity.

The discharge process went smoothly. Andrew had already paid all the fees. Susan clutched the bill, her nails digging into her palms.

The manager of A Variety of Beauties looked conflicted when he saw her, handing her a thick envelope.

"Your commission from Mr. Ethan Sullivan’s visit last night."

Susan counted it—nearly 100,000. Before she could feel any relief, the manager added, "You’re fired."

Expected.

She walked down the street, clutching the money in a paper bag, the cold wind biting her skin. Her phone rang—a call from Sister Zhao, an acquaintance from her days as an extra.

"Susan, a big production needs background actors tomorrow—playing corpses. 500 a day. Interested?"

Susan agreed without hesitation.

The next day, she realized it was Nicole’s film. Keeping her head down, Susan smeared fake blood on herself, trying to stay unnoticed.

"Action!"

At the director’s cue, Susan and the other extras collapsed into the "blood." The click of high heels approached, stopping beside her.

A sharp pain shot through her left hand—Nicole’s heel was grinding into her severed finger.

"Hurts?" Nicole whispered, low enough for only Susan to hear. "This is just the beginning."

Susan clenched her teeth, sweat soaking her costume.

Nicole suddenly shrieked and stumbled back.

"Cut!" the director yelled. "What happened?"

"She pinched me!" Nicole pointed at Susan, tears instantly welling up.

The set erupted in murmurs.

Before Susan could defend herself, a familiar figure charged forward.

"Susan!" Andrew yanked her up from the ground. "You’ve got a death wish!"

His palm came down like a whip.