Chapter 5

Yvonne POV

I thought I had died.

My mind was submerged in absolute darkness.

No light, no sound, not even the feeling of pain.

Then, the sharp smell of antiseptic hit my senses.

Opening my eyes, I stared at a plain white ceiling. The wound on my shoulder had been dressed, wrapped tight in gauze.

I was lying in a hospital bed, entirely alone.

The nightstand was completely bare.

No flowers, no fruit, not even a glass of water poured for me.

Out in the hallway, the hushed voices of two nurses drifted through the door.

"Mr. Sterling has been keeping vigil in the VIP suite for three days straight without leaving her side once. Ms. Sterling really is blessed."

"What about the one in the general ward? I heard Mr. Sterling stabbed her himself..."

"Shh, keep your voice down. Mr. Sterling gave orders: no special care needed, just make sure she doesn't die."

Lying in that bed, listening to every word, my face remained blank.

*Just make sure she doesn't die.*

That afternoon, I began vomiting blood.

Crouched over the bathroom sink, I threw up until half the basin was coated in a blinding, terrifying red.

The doctor came to examine me, his expression gravely grim.

"Ms. Vance, your stomach cancer has reached the terminal stage. You need to be admitted for aggressive treatment immediately."

"How long do I have left?"

The doctor went silent for a moment. "Three months, at most."

"Forget it." I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand, pressing down to stem the bleeding. "I'm refusing treatment."

Stepping out of the hospital, the sun was shining brightly, casting a gentle warmth over my skin.

I took a cab out to the cemetery on the outskirts of the city and chose a quiet corner plot that got plenty of sunlight.

Next, I went to purchase the simplest wooden urn I could find and signed the end-of-life proxy: keep everything minimal, no funeral service, scatter my ashes into the sea.

The staff looked at me with open pity, but I paid them no mind.

With everything settled, a strange sense of peace settled over my chest.

I headed to my family's old auto repair shop.

It was the only piece of my parents I had left in this world, tucked away in an alley inside the old quarter, modest and unpretentious.

I pushed the door open, only to be greeted by total devastation.

My parents' tools had been smashed to pieces and scattered across the floor—wrenches, socket sets, and hydraulic jacks lay mangled and warped out of shape.

Old photographs on the wall had been torn down and trampled underfoot, my parents' faces smeared beyond recognition.

The trophies on the shelf were shattered into fragments—trophies my father had earned in mechanic competitions all those years ago.

The entire floor was blanketed in shattered glass and splintered wood.

Standing in the doorway, I trembled from head to toe.

"Oh, look who's here. Yvonne Vance?"

Chloe Sterling's voice drifted out from the back.

She stepped out from the inner room, draped in an expensive coat, her high heels clicking and crunching over the broken glass.

Behind her stood two hired laborers, heavy hammers in hand.

"What are you doing here?"

My voice shook uncontrollably.

"This shop belongs to me now," Chloe smiled faintly. "Caleb told me this piece-of-trash garage was mine to take."

She raised a hand, waving dismissively at the workers.

"Keep smashing it. Don't stop until there's nothing left standing."

The thudding crash of hammers echoed through the cramped shop, blow after heavy blow, landing like strikes against my own heart.