8
Hearing this, Aurora paused. But a moment later, she regained her composure.
He organized a city–wide blood drive, just to prevent her death.
However, between her and Isabelle, if one of them had to die, it would always be her.
Therefore, she had no illusions about him anymore.
During her last few days in Washington, D.C., Aurora recuperated in the hospital.
The nurses, during their rounds, often mentioned the VIP ward upstairs.
“It’s said the Hawthorne Group CEO booked the entire floor and even invited several retired professors from Washington, D.C., just to take care of his girlfriend!”
“I’ve seen him several times personally bringing his girlfriend tea and water, buying her a lot of jewelry, staying up all night at her bedside. He’s so
devoted!”
Aurora listened to the gossip quietly, touching her chest.
She felt nothing there, just a slow heartbeat.
It seemed the wounds in her heart were almost healed.
On the day of her discharge, Lydia was supposed to pick her up, but was delayed by family matters.
Aurora reassured her and went home alone.
Today was her last day on the job. She went through the resignation process.
Carrying her box, she was about to leave when she ran into Isabelle at the elevator.
Isabelle, holding a coffee, deliberately bumped into Aurora.
“Watch where you’re going! You’ve stained my dress! Again! Are you doing this on purpose?”
Isabelle staged the entire scene, then called her bodyguards, ordering them to make Aurora kneel and apologize at the main entrance.
Aurora refused to submit, but Isabelle escalated, throwing the remaining coffee on her face.
“What are you looking at? Not happy? Let me tell you, Sebastian only has eyes for me. No matter what I do, he’ll always take my side. Punishing a lowly secretary like you is nothing.”
With a smug look, she left.
The bodyguards dragged Aurora downstairs and forced her to kneel.
She struggled, but couldn’t break free, attempting to reason with them.
“I’ve resigned; I’m no longer Mr. Hawthorne’s secretary. Why are you forcing me to kneel?”
The bodyguards remained unmoved, their tone cold.“Mr. Hawthorne’s orders; Miss Monroe’s wishes are his wishes. We must fulfill her requests. Save your words for Mr. Hawthorne, Ms. Lancaster.”
Her arguments were silenced.
She knew they wouldn’t listen and gave up struggling.
Passing colleagues and people whispered and took photos.
In the cold December weather, she knelt for seven hours, her knees scraped raw.
Her face was purple with cold; she shivered uncontrollably, relying on sheer willpower to endure.
Near the end of the workday, Aurora was losing consciousness when she heard someone call her name.
She lifted her head, seeing Lydia running towards her.
“Aurora, you just left the hospital, why are you kneeling here? Who is tormenting you?”
Aurora’s throat was parched. She instinctively said, “Isabelle…”
