Chapter 6 Into the Abyss
The thunderous slam of the door made the entire hallway tremble.
Oddly enough, Phoebe felt relief wash over her.
Death-like silence reclaimed the hospital room.
Only Noah and Phoebe were left.
"Getting clever, aren't you, Phoebe?"
Noah approached the bed, gripping her chin. "Playing the rekindled affection card now?"
Phoebe tried to pull away, but his grip held her firmly in place.
Noah's smile deepened. "What's wrong? Thought you could hook Ethan and have him rescue you? Have you forgotten how his sister's leg was broken?"
He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against her face, but his words were colder than ice.
"Stop dreaming. Every Bell family member would love to skin you alive. If you'd left with him today, tomorrow Port Linden's harbor might have had another unidentified female corpse."
Phoebe understood then.
Noah was suggesting that even Ethan's seemingly kind gesture might have concealed a deeper trap.
In this world ruled by power and money, even survival was a luxury for her.
A metallic taste rose in her throat, but she forced it down, her voice hoarse.
"I... I didn't. I don't want to be part of it anymore. Your world... I don't want it."
Seeing her completely resigned appearance, Noah's eyes flashed with satisfaction.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
He wanted her to understand that her life was his to control.
"Remember what you said today."
He released her, straightened up, and looked down at her with disdain.
"Get well. Starlight Club is waiting for you to return to work."
With that, he turned and left the hospital room.
Phoebe stayed in the hospital for two days.
The doctor said she needed rest for her concussion, the high fever from severe hypothermia, and her aggravated old injuries, recommending at least another week of observation.
But when the nurse handed her the two-day bill with its five-digit figure, Phoebe's heart constricted violently.
Dignity meant nothing in the face of such an amount.
She now understood profoundly that money was the only reliable thing in this world.
On the morning of the third day, despite the doctor's objections, she dragged her still-feverish body through the discharge procedures.
It was barely dawn when she returned to the employee dormitory.
The room was empty.
Phoebe had just stepped inside when a wave of dizziness hit her.
She instinctively reached out to steady herself against the nearby storage cabinet.
Before she could regain her balance, a powerful force shoved her from behind!
Already weakened, Phoebe crashed hard against the edge of the bed, drawing in a sharp breath of pain.
"What are you doing? Murderer! Sneaking around my cabinet, planning to plant something?" a shrill voice demanded behind her.
It was Chloe Hansen.
"I—" Phoebe was disoriented, looking up at Chloe's contemptuous expression. She suddenly understood—the incident had been so public that everyone in the club must know about her imprisonment.
"I didn't," she managed.
"You didn't? I saw you! Who knows what an ex-con like you might steal!"
Chloe stood with her hands on her hips, her voice growing shriller.
Just then, another voice came from the doorway.
"Chloe, are you insane? She just got back from the hospital—why are you pushing her?"
Emily rushed in, grabbing Phoebe as she swayed precariously. "Phoebe, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The moment Chloe saw Emily, she got even more fired up. "Back off, Emily! Don't stand with her kind—it's bad luck! Who knows if she's faking it again, playing the victim!"
A faint warmth spread from Emily's supporting arm.
Phoebe shook her head, giving Emily a pale smile before turning to Chloe with exhausted eyes.
"I was just... dizzy. Needed support."
"Dizzy?" Chloe sneered, crossing her arms. "Who'd believe that? A killer like you could do anything! I'm going to tell Ms. Lane today—I absolutely refuse to share a room with someone this dangerous!"
"That's enough!" Emily's face flushed with anger. "Can't you see how sick she is? Do you have to be so cruel?"
"Cruel? When she stabs you in your sleep someday, you'll know who was right!"
Before Emily could respond, three distinct knocks at the door cut through the argument.
Not too loud, not too soft, but carrying an unmistakable authority.
The room fell silent immediately.
All three women turned toward the door.
Emily, being closest, frowned and opened it, her expression turning to surprise.
"Ms. Lane? What brings you here?"
Monica stood in a crisp black business suit, her makeup flawless. Her sharp eyes surveyed the room, taking in Phoebe's disheveled state and Chloe's confrontational posture, her brow subtly furrowing.
She acknowledged Emily's greeting with a nod but didn't answer her question. Instead, her gaze settled on Phoebe sitting on the bed.
This was only her second time seeing Phoebe, but in entirely different circumstances.
Chloe's arrogance instantly vanished, replaced by a victimized expression as she rushed to complain. "Ms. Lane, perfect timing! Look at her—sneaking around suspiciously the moment she returns! Who knows what she's planning! I want a different room—I can't spend another day with a murderer!"
Monica didn't even glance at Chloe. Her steady gaze remained on Phoebe.
"Phoebe, come with me."
Emily squeezed Phoebe's cold hand worriedly. Phoebe shook her head at Emily, indicating she would be fine.
She limped after Monica to the end of the hallway.
Phoebe had seen Monica three years ago. Back then, she didn't know Noah was the silent partner behind Starlight Club—she had only obtained a membership card after hearing gossip connecting him to the club's female owner, wanting to investigate.
That time, she had only glimpsed Monica from afar, not clearly.
During the half-month since being thrown into this place, she'd been assigned by an assistant manager, and Monica had never appeared.
Looking at the elegant, sophisticated woman before her, Phoebe couldn't help but admire her natural allure. No wonder she could manage such a large establishment on her own.
"I've received Chloe's complaint," Monica said directly, her tone businesslike. "She wants a room change."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Lane," Phoebe kept her head down. "It's my fault. I've caused trouble for everyone."
She didn't defend herself or protest, showing no emotional reaction whatsoever.
"I'll... I'll move out today."
Monica observed her submissive demeanor with a flicker of complexity in her eyes.
She had expected Phoebe to argue at least a little, but was surprised by how quickly, how completely she yielded.
"No need to move," Monica said. "You're with Facilities and Cleaning now."
After delivering this news, Monica watched her intently, waiting for a reaction.
After all, while being a greeter was still a job for young women, the cleaning department was typically staffed by middle-aged women who had few other options—dirty, exhausting, thankless work.
But Phoebe's expression remained unchanged. She simply acknowledged with a quiet "Yes," then fell silent, disappointing Monica slightly.
Raising an eyebrow, Monica asked, "Don't you have anything to say?"
"Do I need to ask?" Phoebe's voice was soft. "This is Mr. White's decision, isn't it?"
She raised her empty eyes to meet Monica's directly. "As long as I still get paid, I'll do anything. I don't want to upset Mr. White again."
Monica found herself genuinely appreciating Phoebe's attitude. After a pause, she smiled openly. "Since you have no objections, get your things together and report to your new department."
"As for housing," Monica looked away, continuing, "the company will arrange separate accommodations in the cleaning staff dormitory. You and Chloe won't cross paths again."
"Thank you, Ms. Lane," Phoebe nodded, her heart heavy as Monica turned to leave.
Top floor of White Group headquarters, CEO's office.
Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Port Linden's brilliant night skyline stretched out like stars beneath their feet.
Noah sat in his leather executive chair, a cigar between his fingers, smoke swirling around his handsome, aristocratic features.
Monica stood respectfully before his desk, delivering her report.