Chapter 4

Ding.

A video landed on my phone.

My father, his face covered in blood, was pinned to the floor of a van by two big men, barely conscious.

Madam Cross sent a voice message: "Susan, if I don't see your apology video in ten minutes, the next thing I send you will be your father's finger."

I shook so hard I couldn't control it, huge tears splashing down onto the screen.

I couldn't beat them.

They had money and power. Wiping out my whole family would be as easy as crushing an ant.

With trembling hands, I opened the camera on my phone and pointed it at my own ashen face.

"I'm sorry. My name is Susan, and the posts I made earlier were all—"

A large, well-defined hand suddenly reached over and snatched the phone away.

"That's all the backbone you've got?" Kane looked down at me, his eyes terrifyingly cold.

"He's holding my dad hostage! What am I supposed to do?! I can't gamble with my father's life!" I screamed, breaking down, reaching for the phone.

Kane caught my wrist and hauled me up off the floor.

"There's no turning back from revenge. If you back down now, they'll think you're weak and easy to crush — and tomorrow they'll come for your whole family!"

He looked straight into my eyes, spacing out each word with unquestionable authority. "I've already sent my best security team to rescue your parents. What you need to do right now is go and win your fight."

I froze, staring at him blankly.

He pressed a gold-embossed invitation into my hands.

"Eight o'clock tonight. The Cross Group's annual product launch — also Sebastian's first public appearance as he formally takes over as CEO."

A flash of ruthlessness crossed Kane's eyes. "Go. Find their weak spot, and deal them a fatal blow. As for your parents — I give you my word on the Blackwood family's name. Not a single hair on their heads will be touched."

Looking at the certainty in his eyes, my chaotic heart somehow steadied.

Eight o'clock that night. The grand ballroom of the International Hotel downtown.

The place was packed with the rich and famous. A wall of media cameras hemmed the stage in.

Sebastian stood under the spotlight in a white suit, delivering his speech with cocky confidence.

"The Cross Group will dedicate itself in the future to—"

Bang!

I shoved the heavy ballroom doors open.

I walked in wearing the bold red dress Kane had prepared for me, stepping forward on four-inch heels, one stride at a time.

Lips red as fire, face cold as ice.

The whole room fell dead silent in an instant.

Every camera swung toward me in unison.

"It's Susan! The fiancée who leaked everything online!"

The smile on Sebastian's face froze. Madam Cross shot up from her front-row seat and pointed at me, screaming.

"Security! Who let her in?! Throw this crazy woman out!"

I showed no fear. I walked straight to the press table closest to the stage and picked up a reporter's spare microphone.

"No need. I'll say one thing, then leave."

My voice carried clearly through the speakers into every corner of the room.

I looked at Sebastian, his face livid up on the stage, and a cruel smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Sebastian — after Grace got my kidney transplanted, has she been taking her anti-rejection medication on schedule?"

Sebastian's pupils contracted sharply. "What are you getting at?"

"I forgot to mention something." I toyed with a strand of my hair, my tone as light as if I were discussing the weather.

"My blood type is extremely rare — a Bombay phenotype, with a recessive genetic mutation. My organs carry an extremely strong tendency toward delayed hyperacute rejection."

"Once it triggers, she'll have less than three months left."

The whole room broke into an uproar.

The reporters fired their shutters like mad.

Madam Cross covered her mouth in horror. "You're lying! You vicious witch, you're cursing my daughter!"

I ignored her hysterics.

I locked my eyes on Sebastian, swaying on the stage, and added softly — at a volume only the two of us could hear, but enough to shatter his soul:

"Unfortunately, the only cure for this kind of rejection is produced by exactly one elite lab in Switzerland. And its founder happened to be a lifelong friend of my late grandfather — close as brothers."

I lifted my chin slightly, savoring the pure terror that surged into Sebastian's eyes.

"Sebastian. Now is the moment for you to get down on your knees and beg me."