Revenge Has Never Been Prettier

The old couple's cries pierced the air, raw and unrelenting. Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through me, and I hurled the powder compact in my hand to the ground.

It shattered, scattering fine particles across the floor like dust over a battlefield.

"Can you two just shut up already?!" I shouted, my voice slicing through their wails. "God, you're driving me insane! If it weren't for all your flailing around, do you think I'd have wasted my false lashes? Do you even understand how essential false lashes are to eye makeup?"

Their sobs quieted momentarily, stunned into silence by my outburst.

I seized the chance to continue, my tone sharp and scathing. "Do you have any idea how expensive they are these days? And these—these are daily disposable contact lenses! Do you know what that means? It means if you don't stop whining, you can all get the hell out of here!"

Before I could unleash more fury, a commotion from the operating room snapped everyone's attention. A nurse burst out, her face pale, eyes brimming with panic.

"The patient's condition is deteriorating rapidly," she cried, her voice trembling. "If we don't act now, we'll lose him."

Dr. Henley turned toward me, his expression steely. "Dr. Warhol, this is the last time I'll ask you this. Are you going to save him or not?"

I rolled my eyes at him, exasperated. "Dr. Henley, for someone who graduated top of his class, you really have a hard time understanding plain words."

I raised my injured hand in front of him, the wounds on my fingers jagged and raw. "As I've already said, I'm not doing the surgery."

Hearing my refusal, Gracie collapsed to the floor, clutching her chest as though the words themselves were knives.

"You ungrateful wretch!" she wailed. "Has Lex not been good to you? He's a graduate of one of the top universities—never once has he cared that you're an orphan or that you came from nothing!"

Her voice grew louder, desperate and cutting. "He's tall, handsome, and could have had his pick of girls—do you know how many lined up just to catch his eye in high school? But he only ever had eyes for you! Every morning, he went five miles out of his way to buy your favorite pastries!"

She sobbed harder, choking on her words. "We didn't ask for anything from you, didn't mind that you had no family to speak of. He even gave you jewelry when you got married. Since you got married, he hasn't let you lift a finger around the house!"

Her lament grew louder, stirring murmurs from the crowd that had gathered. Some people looked at me with open disgust, their whispers sharp and accusing.

"She's heartless," someone muttered. "How can she sit there like that, putting on makeup, while her husband is fighting for his life?"

"Money can be earned again, a job can be replaced," another added. "But her husband only has one life!"

A wave of murmured disapproval rippled through the crowd, and some even began recording on their phones, broadcasting the scene live.

But their anger, their judgment, it all rolled off me. I remained seated, calm and unbothered, as though I were carved out of stone.

When Nicholas raised his head again, his face was streaked with blood. It startled me for a moment, but I quickly masked my surprise. Crawling on his knees, he grabbed at the hem of my pants, his voice hoarse and desperate.

"Samantha, please," he begged. "If you save Lex, we'll give you everything. All our savings, all the money Lex has—it's yours. We'll even transfer the house to your name, I swear it. Anything you want, just save him.

"If you're worried, we'll beg the hospital, do whatever it takes to save your job, okay?!"

His voice cracked with each word, trembling with exhaustion and pain.

For a fleeting moment, I considered his offer. The terms weren't bad, not bad at all. I raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch before replying.

"Fine," I said finally. "I'll save him."

Hope flickered in his eyes, like a dying ember reignited. "Really? You will?"

But I kicked his hand away, my voice cold and impatient. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I have one condition. The money and the property transfer—they need to happen now. Not tomorrow, not later. Now."

My words hit like a hammer. Both of them froze, their expressions crumbling into despair.

Nicholas choked out, "The property office is closed for the day... And Lex, he's unconscious. He can't sign the transfer papers."

I let out a derisive laugh. "Then that's not my problem."

Gracie finally snapped. "What did Lex ever do to deserve this from you? Why are you so determined to ruin him?"

I didn't bother answering. Let her scream, let them all scream. It made no difference to me.

Around us, the crowd grew more restless, their outrage swelling. Some were glaring openly, while others seemed ready to intervene.

I smirked and held up two fingers in a peace sign toward one of the cameras, thinking, 'Let them record. Let the world see.'

Just then, a nurse rushed out of the operating room, her face ashen. "The patient is awake," she said, her voice strained. "He asked me to deliver a message."

"He said he doesn't blame Samantha," the nurse continued. "He asked you not to make things difficult for her. He said... he knows she's had a hard life, that she's always needed love, and money has always been her security. He said, as long as she lives well, that's enough for him. Even if she won't save him, everything—his money, the house—it's all hers."