The moment my phone vibrated, I was on my knees in front of my supervisor Mark’s desk—not begging, but forced—placing my underwear atop the document labeled "Probation Evaluation."
"Alison, this position has plenty of takers," he said, legs crossed, the tip of his leather shoe lightly tapping my knee. "And your mother's medical bills aren't exactly covered by insurance, are they?"
I didn’t speak. Just clenched the hem of my skirt. Three million for life-saving medication. No医保 coverage. Relatives vanished. Three days ago, the doctor said: “One month left without targeted therapy.”
But now, staring at his greasy smirk, I suddenly smiled.
"Jack," I said, my voice calm—unrecognizable even to myself.
He blinked. "What did you say?"
"I said," I straightened up, each word sharp and deliberate, "you're not even worthy of licking my shoes. What makes you think you can touch me?"
Then I turned and walked away. My heels clicked down the corridor like a countdown to his downfall.
On a bench by the roadside, I finally broke into sobs. Lena held me, silent. Until my phone rang again.
【City Hospital Call】
"Ms. Ai, your mother suffered cardiac arrest earlier. She’s now in a deep coma after resuscitation… Cancer has metastasized to the brain. Life expectancy… no more than seven days."
The world went still.
I looked up at the sky—gray and heavy, just like the clouds the day Mom took me to the amusement park as a child. She had smiled then and said, “My little Sen will be happy forever.”
But she’s been sick for three years. I’ve knelt before eight foundations. Begged twelve bosses. No one helped.
Only Mark, with a casual sneer: "You knew the deal—trade your body for a chance."
I didn’t go back to my rented room. Didn’t cry. Didn’t hesitate.
I returned to the office, walked through the silent floors, and pushed open his half-closed door.
He was sitting there—smirking.
"Back so soon?" He leaned back, eyes cold and snake-like. "Knew you’d come crawling back."
I said nothing. Slowly slipped off my high heels, stepped barefoot onto the carpet, and moved closer.
He grinned, reaching out to touch my face.
The instant his fingers brushed my skin—
I pulled a syringe from my bag and drove it into his neck.
"What the hell is this?!" He thrashed in panic.
"The consent form you made me sign—'Voluntary Drug Trial,'" I leaned close, whispering against his ear, "The money you stole? Ten times what you paid me. But what you never knew… that drug was meant for my mother. They took her genetic samples and told her—no cure."
His pupils shrank.
"Now, the same cancer activator is flowing through your veins," I stepped back, watching his hands tremble. "Survive seven days? You’ll be lucky."
The camera pulls back.
Outside, night cloaks the city in ink, while lights blaze like stars.
My phone screen glows with a new message:
【Anonymous account: 3,000,000 received. Note: Medical fees. Don’t mention it.】
I gently close my eyes.
Mom, this time—it’s my turn to save you.
Revenge has only just begun.
Floris Blossom is in desperate need of money to pay for her mother's life-saving surgery. With no other options, she attends a high-profile interview for a position with Mr. Brighton, a notorious playboy and cold-hearted billionaire with a reputation for getting what he wants — no matter the cost. Floris steps into his office prepared to offer hard work and dedication in exchange for the financial help she needs. But Mr. Brighton has something else in mind he offers her a deal...
