Chapter 293

"Say that again?!" Victor Lefèvre jerked upright from the hospital bed, wincing as his wounds throbbed in protest.

Stella Valentine stood before him, her expression unreadable. "It's just a small portion of your liver. It won't kill you."

"Dream on!" Victor's voice cracked with outrage. "Not a chance!"

"No room for negotiation?"

"None!"

Stella turned to leave. "Then rot in this back-alley clinic. Sophia Durand can't save herself now, and Lily Savigny would rather see you dead. No one's coming to collect your corpse."

"Wait—" Panic flashed across Victor's face as he struggled to sit up. "Come back! Let's talk!"

Stella paused at the door, her back to him. "Speak."

His eyes gleamed with greed. "I'll donate... if you hand over Shi's Jewelry."

A cold laugh escaped her. "The company's drowning in debt. What use is it to you?"

"Then come back as their designer!" He slammed a fist against the mattress. "You're so talented, aren't you? Earn the money yourself!"

She turned slowly, her gaze glacial. "You've outdone yourself, Uncle. Truly despicable."

Victor smirked. "You're the one begging, Stella. This person must mean a lot to you. If I refuse, he'll—"

Her nails dug into her palms.

She should've known. Victor was a rabid dog, sinking his teeth into any scrap of leverage.

"Sign it." She flung a document onto the bed.

Victor snatched it up, his face lighting up. "Donation agreement? You agree?" His grin turned venomous as he flipped through the pages. "One more condition."

"..."

"Apologize to William Rubenstein."

Stella's pupils constricted. "What?"

"The man you scarred at the golf club!" Victor crowed. "He's been hounding me ever since. You'll explain it was your doing!"

Ice flooded her veins. The memory of that day clawed at her—if she went back...

"Scared?" Victor tossed the papers to the floor. "Fine. Let your precious patient die."

Her stare burned into the discarded contract.

"Tick-tock," Victor singsonged. "Liver transplants have such a narrow window..."

"Address." The words ripped from her.

His eyebrows shot up. "You're really going?"

"Where is he now?"

"This hour..." Victor checked his watch. "Golden Night Club."

Stella bent to retrieve the agreement, slamming it onto the bedside table. "Sign before I return. Or else—" Her eyes turned blade-sharp. "You'll wish you were dead."