Chapter 5 Broken Pieces
Disgusting.
Indeed, who would like her now?
She was no longer the radiant Foster family heiress who once shone on stage. Just a scarred prisoner, humbled to dust.
Phoebe looked at his impossibly handsome face just inches away. Those eyes that were once filled with tenderness now contained nothing but revulsion.
Her laugh was sharp and painful, worse than crying.
Slowly, she raised her hand and placed it over his, which was gripping her chin, and whispered.
"If there's something about me Mr. White doesn't like, I can change."
Noah paused, his brow slightly furrowing.
Phoebe's gaze was terrifyingly empty.
Noah's fingers, still holding Phoebe's chin, unconsciously tightened.
His gaze, for the first time, examined her face so meticulously.
It was Phoebe's face, certainly.
Yet somehow completely transformed.
Three years ago, Phoebe had been like a princess in Port Linden.
Vibrant, confident—when she stood under the spotlight, it seemed as if all the world's light converged on her alone.
Her eyes were always startlingly bright.
But now?
The Phoebe before him had wasted away beyond recognition, her cheeks deeply sunken.
That bone-deep exhaustion and weathering couldn't be concealed by even the most expensive cosmetics.
By his own hand, he had ground a brilliant pearl into worthless dust.
This realization sent a sharp, piercing pain through Noah's heart.
But the feeling vanished in an instant.
"Change?" Noah scoffed. "With what? That corpse-like face of yours? Or this fragile skeleton that breaks at a touch?"
The air in the hospital room seemed completely drained, cold enough to suffocate.
Phoebe lowered her eyelids, falling silent.
Whatever she did, it was never right.
Silence was her only option.
Just then, a series of urgent knocks broke the deathly stillness.
Noah, his entertainment interrupted, frowned impatiently and shouted. "Get in here!"
The door opened, and a tall figure carrying a thermos walked in.
When she recognized the visitor, Phoebe's pupils contracted sharply.
Ethan?
Why would he come?
After the initial shock, she immediately bowed her head lower, choosing to remain mute.
Speaking even one word now might hasten her death.
When Ethan saw Noah gripping Phoebe's chin, his eyes instantly grew cold.
He set the thermos down hard on the bedside table.
"Noah, step outside. We need to talk." Ethan's voice suppressed fury.
"Talk?" Noah finally released Phoebe, straightening up leisurely, smiling provocatively. "Let's talk right here. What is there that she can't hear?"
He glanced at Phoebe on the bed, looking at her like a well-trained pet.
"See? She's very obedient."
Those words struck Phoebe like a resounding slap to the face.
Her body froze, humiliation drowning her like a tidal wave.
She couldn't lie there any longer, struggling to escape this room that left her with nowhere to hide.
"I... I need to use the bathroom."
But the moment her hand pressed against the edge of the bed, a silver metal object slammed hard onto her hand!
Noah's Zippo lighter.
Phoebe sucked in a sharp breath of pain as her hand visibly swelled and reddened.
"Did I say you could move?" Noah gave her a cold look, his voice harsh. "Lie still and listen."
Phoebe trembled all over, all movement ceasing.
Slowly, she withdrew her hand, curling up under the covers and staying completely still.
"Noah!" Ethan's face instantly turned ashen. "What the hell are you doing? How is Vivian supposed to feel about you keeping her like this?"
"Is that so?" Noah looked lazily at Ethan. "Then tell me, what should I do?"
That casually insolent attitude completely ignited Ethan's rage.
He took a deep breath, as if making some kind of decision, and said one word at a time.
"Let her go! Get out of Port Linden! Never show her face to any of us again!"
Those words cut deeper than any broken bone.
Phoebe had thought Ethan, at least, still cared.
But this hurt more than anything.
Apparently, in his heart, she was just garbage to be driven away.
Noah let out a soft laugh, like he'd just heard the world's dumbest joke.
He sauntered to the window, opened a slat of the blinds, glanced at the bustling street below, then turned unhurriedly, his contemptuous gaze landing on Ethan.
"Go?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. "Mr. Bell, are you teaching me how to manage my employees?"
He paused, shifting his gaze to Phoebe on the bed, his lips curling into a sneer.
"Besides, Phoebe's work ethic is excellent—hardworking, compliant, does whatever she's told. Such an exemplary employee," he paused, "I have no reason to let her go."
Ethan shook with rage. "You fucking bastard!"
His chest heaved violently; he looked around, his fury seeking an outlet, and violently kicked a nearby chair!
The chair crashed to the floor with a loud bang.
"You won't let her go, fine!" Ethan glared at Noah. "I'll poach her from you! Phoebe, come with me. Name your price!"
These words froze the air in the hospital room.
Even Noah's smile faded slightly.
"Poach?"
He chuckled, lightly brushing his fingertips over Phoebe's pale, cold cheek, his gesture both intimate and possessive.
"Ethan, any staff member in my Starlight Club, you can have whoever you want. But her? No."
He leaned down close to Phoebe's ear.
"I'm not done playing yet."
That casually delivered line hurt more than any insult.
Ethan's self-control finally snapped.
"Playing?" he shouted, pointing incredulously at Phoebe. "Look at the state she's in! What's left worth playing with?"
His gaze swept over her colorless face, the needle-marked back of her hand, and the crippled leg under the blanket.
"She's ruined! Her leg is ruined, and she's almost ruined too! What is she to you? A toy?"
The confrontation between the two men made the atmosphere unbearably tense.
"I'm sorry."
Phoebe finally couldn't bear listening to them pass her back and forth like an object anymore.
Using all her strength, she propped herself up on the edge of the bed and slowly sat up.
"Please stop arguing."
Both men fell silent, turning to look at her simultaneously.
Phoebe ignored Noah and looked straight at Ethan.
"Mr. Bell, thank you for your kindness." She tried to smile but couldn't. "I... have no intention of changing jobs at the moment."
"What?" Ethan doubted his ears. He stepped forward, his voice rising. "Phoebe, do you understand what you're saying?"
"I do." Phoebe lowered her eyes, concealing all emotion.
She understood perfectly that Ethan meant well, but one Vivian had already pushed her into hell. Whether enmity or kindness, she didn't want to get entangled with Ethan.
She paused, her breathing unsteady, but continued.
"What happened three years ago—I wronged Ms. Bell. As long as you can forgive me, as long as you can get your revenge, I'll do anything."
"Even if it means going back right now and continuing to kneel."
Ethan was completely stunned.
He stared at Phoebe as if she were a stranger.
How could the Foster family's once-proud heiress, who carried herself like a swan, become like this?
Willing to abandon all dignity just to stay with her enemy?
A sense of powerlessness washed over him.
He felt like a complete fool.
"Kneel?" He suddenly laughed. "Phoebe, you really are... something else!"
He shook his head, backing away step by step, the pity in his eyes finally replaced by disgust.
"Fine! Very well! I should mind my own business!"
With that, he spun around and yanked the door open with such force it slammed against the wall.
The sound echoed like thunder.