Chapter 4 Regret
Noah sneered. "Regret? Do you regret hurting Vivian for me?"
"No."
Phoebe looked at him with despair written across her face.
"I regret ever loving you. Noah, loving you was the biggest mistake of my life."
Noah's fingers gripping her chin suddenly tightened, his eyes instantly turning vicious.
A moment later, he let her go, stood up, and resumed his lofty, superior demeanor.
"Is that so?" he sneered, "Then kneel here and regret it properly."
With that, he turned and walked back into the club, leaving Phoebe with nothing but his merciless silhouette.
The night deepened.
The temperature, approaching freezing, chilled to the bone.
Her thin uniform offered no protection against the biting cold wind, and her entire body grew stiff.
As midnight approached, the club became increasingly crowded with guests who, passing by her, would mockingly smile.
She tuned them out, head down, just like she'd learned to do these past three years.
In prison, she was constantly beaten. At first, she would resist, but eventually, she learned that resistance only invited more severe beatings.
Only by not resisting, letting them hit her with all their might, would they eventually tire and leave her alone.
Pain and cold? She pretended neither could touch her.
Numbness was the best protection.
She stopped thinking about anything, only hoping that both Noah and Ethan would leave her alone.
As her consciousness began to blur, a warm coat was gently draped over her shoulders.
Phoebe painfully raised her head to see Emily looking down at her with concern.
Emily frowned, "Put it on. It's been two hours now. Stay out here any longer and you'll freeze to death."
Seeing Emily, a flash of clarity cut through Phoebe's foggy mind.
No! She couldn't drag Emily into this!
She knew Noah's methods better than anyone. Anyone who helped her would suffer worse than she had.
Phoebe's voice was hoarse. "Don't get involved. You'll only get hurt."
"You're worried about me?" Emily seemed unaware of what Phoebe had done to earn such hatred from the wealthy elite.
She sighed, her heart softening despite herself, "I told you to quit this job. You're determined to work yourself to death. Wait here, I'll get you some hot chocolate."
"Go away!" Phoebe used her last ounce of strength to push Emily away. "Leave me alone! My problems aren't your concern!"
Phoebe didn't want to cause Emily trouble. She raised her hand to stop her, but in her haste, a wave of dizziness struck, and she collapsed.
Her forehead hit the marble steps hard. Through the haze, Phoebe heard Emily cry out her name in alarm, but darkness engulfed her, and she lost consciousness completely.
Inside the Starlight Club manager's office.
Monica stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the slight figure kneeling in the snow below, her brow furrowed.
She turned to Noah, who was leisurely swirling a glass of whiskey on the sofa, and cautiously probed.
"Mr. White, it's too cold outside. If Ms. Foster stays out there any longer, I'm afraid she might not survive."
Noah didn't even bother to look up, his voice cold and hard.
"If she dies, dispose of the body."
Monica's heart sank. She wanted to say more, but the office door was suddenly knocked on urgently.
"Come in."
An assistant hurried in, bowing as he reported. "Mr. White, Ms. Foster has collapsed."
Noah paused briefly in swirling his glass, his eyes remained cold.
"And?" he asked flatly, seeming unsurprised.
"Mr. Bell, suddenly returned in his car, picked her up, and took her straight to the hospital." The assistant added carefully.
Ethan? Noah slowly raised his head, a flash of anger in his eyes.
What right did he have to touch her!
"Follow them," Noah commanded coldly, his voice filled with rage. "Keep close watch. I want to see what game they're playing."
So hot.
Scorching flames burned every inch of her skin, smoke choking her lungs.
"Help! Help me!"
In the prison, fire spread as inmates cried out in terror.
Smoke stung her eyes until she couldn't open them, desperately pounding on the scalding iron door.
"Open up! Let me out! Save me!"
She gasped for breath, her chest heaving violently, cold sweat drenching her forehead.
Another nightmare. She was back in that prison, the obese prison boss beating her, and she set a fire in desperation.
In her dream, everyone who had bullied her was trapped in the flames, including herself.
"Phoebe! Phoebe!"
She jerked awake. The flames were gone, replaced by a sea of white.
Ceiling, walls, sheets—everything was white.
The air smelled of antiseptic.
She was in the hospital, but she was still alive.
This realization pressed heavily on Phoebe's heart, making it difficult to breathe.
Why? Why keep her alive?
Being alive only meant exchanging one hell for another.
"Awake? You're tough, I'll give you that."
A young nurse's slightly mocking voice came from beside her.
Phoebe slowly turned her head to see the nurse replacing her IV bag.
Noticing Phoebe's despondent expression, the nurse clicked her tongue. "Look at you. Concussion plus severe hypothermia—you were half dead when they brought you in. And your leg... that old injury is serious. If you don't start taking care of yourself, even God won't be able to save you."
Phoebe remained silent, watching the transparent liquid drip slowly into her veins.
She didn't want to live, but this world wouldn't even grant her the right to die.
The nurse shook her head, picked up the empty medicine bottle, and left.
Only Phoebe remained in the room. Perhaps truly exhausted, she soon drifted back to sleep. When she woke again, the sky outside had darkened.
She blinked, feeling her body ache all over.
"Awake?" A deep voice came from nearby. She froze, then turned her head to see Noah sitting in a chair not far away, his long legs casually crossed.
The hospital walls were stark white, bright light reflecting on his face, revealing his enigmatic half-smile that Phoebe couldn't quite read.
Noah approached the bed one step at a time, looking down at her with eyes full of undisguised contempt and disgust.
He examined her as if appraising a failed work of art, looking her up and down.
That pale, haggard face, the cracked, chapped lips, and the oversized hospital gown that made her look even more skeletal.
"Awake?"
He finally spoke, a sneer playing at his lips.
"A fine performance, Phoebe. Is kneeling and begging not enough? Did you have to stage this life-or-death drama to make yourself look more pitiful?"
Phoebe's heart ached so severely she could barely breathe.
She swallowed her words. In his eyes, she was just this calculating, scheming woman.
Her silence only fueled his anger. "Nothing to say?"
Phoebe moistened her dry lips and looked at him. "Mr. White, you already have your answer. What more can I say?"
Noah laughed coldly, leaning down to grasp her chin. "Why did Ethan so kindly bring you to the hospital? Phoebe, do you think all men can be fooled by your helpless, dying act?"
His fingers were ice-cold, his strength alarming.
Humiliated tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back.
She couldn't cry.
Her tears would only excite him more.
"Look at yourself." Noah's voice dripped with disgust. "Hair like a bird's nest, face pale as death, thin as a skeleton. Repulsive."