Third Person's POV
Raphael’s grip was so strong it felt as if he were about to crush her bones.
Without a hitch, he flung Henrietta’s hand away and immediately rushed to Annelise.
“Annelise, are you okay? Did she hurt you?” he worriedly asked.
As always, Annelise put on a pitiful, fragile expression as she aggrievedly replied, “I’m fine. I just acted on my own and came to be your secretary… Maybe that’s why Henrieatta is upset with me.”
Hearing this, Henrietta’s eyes turned bloodshot as she stared at her.
“Annelise, stop pretending! If you’ve got the guts, repeat what you just whispered to me. Say it out loud!”
“That’s enough!” Raphael cut her off impatiently. The look he gave her was icy enough to pierce skin. “I’m the one who asked Annelise to be my secretary. This has nothing to do with her. If you have any resentment, take it out on me!”
“What’s more, I did this for your own good. Your emotions have been unstable lately. You’re no longer fit for the secretary position,” he added, as if he was doing her a favor.
That single phrase—no longer fit—completely erased all her abilities and achievements.
As if the woman who drank herself into a stomach hemorrhage just to secure his contracts, who risked her life intercepting clients on the highway, who stayed silent under kidnapping threats to protect company secrets, had never been her.
When it came to cruelty, Raphael really stood unrivaled.
Staring at his cold, ruthless face, Henrietta felt as if she had never truly known him.
After a long time forcing her voice out through the lump in her throat, she finally managed to remark, “Raphael, if it weren’t for her, my child wouldn’t have died. None of this would have happened today. And you’re telling me she’s not at fault?”
A chill flashed through Raphael’s eyes.
“You’re the one who refused to sign and kept delaying. That’s why the child died. It has nothing to do with Annelise.”
Just like that, in a few short sentences, every ounce of blame was dumped onto her.
At that instant, the atmosphere grew unbearably heavy.
Sensing it, Annelise stepped in to smooth things over.
“Raphael, why are you being so harsh on Henrietta?”
As she spoke, she hypocritically moved closer and tried to hook her arm around Henrietta’s, as if to apologize.
But Henrietta instinctively tried to shake her off.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Ah!” A piercing scream rang through the entire floor, and with a loud thud, Annelise fell hard to the ground.
Panic instantly replaced the frost on Raphael’s face. He crouched in front of Annelise, anxiously and tenderly checking her over.
“Does it hurt? Are you injured anywhere? I’ll take you to the hospital!”
But Annelise stopped him. Her eyes, misted with tears, turned toward Henrietta.
“Henrietta, no matter how much you dislike me, you can’t just push me like that!”
Even without knowing what actually happened, Raphael lashed out furiously.
“Henrietta, if you’re sick, go see a fucking doctor! Who gave you permission to lay a hand on Annelise?!”
Henrietta stared blankly at her own hand.
She clearly… hadn’t touched Annelise at all.
“Raphael, are you blind? I didn’t touch her—she fell on her own! If you don’t believe me, check the surveillance—” Henrietta tried to explain.
But before she could finish, Annelise burst into tears.
“Is pushing me not enough for you, Henrietta? So, now you want to frame me and say I staged it myself?”
She cried beautifully, pitiful as falling petals in the rain.
As expected, Raphael’s heart ached, and he clumsily tried to comfort her.
But when he turned back to Henrietta, his gaze was sharp as a blade.
“You dare hit Annelise right in front of me. Who knows how viciously you lay your hand on her behind my back!” he confidently assumed.
Then he spat, “If you do something wrong, you pay the price. Don’t you like pushing people? Then you should experience what that feels like yourself!”
With that, he ordered the bodyguards behind him.
“Do it.”
Henrietta’s pupils shrank violently as she tremblingly asked, “What are you trying to do?”
The next second, two bodyguards dragged her by force to the stairwell. Before she could even react, they shoved her down hard.
As a result, Henrietta tumbled down three full flights of stairs before finally stopping. Her entire back was shredded from the friction, skin torn open and soaked in blood. Her clothes were also ripped apart, exposing swaths of flesh.
Even worse, the back of her head slammed hard against the wall. So, blood poured out instantly, staining the white walls a shocking red.
Soon, the wail of an ambulance siren filled the air.
Barely conscious, Henrietta instinctively reached out and faintly said, “Help… me…”
But the words that reached her ears were colder than ice.
“Save Annelise first,” Raphael firmly instructed.
The medical staff looked at Henrietta, then at Annelise. Seeing the former covered in blood and gravely injured, and the latter hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch, their expressions turned conflicted.
After hesitation, one of the staff finally spoke, pointing to Henrietta. “Mr. Ravenscroft, if Madam isn’t treated immediately, her life could be in danger.”
But Raphael only coldly replied, “That’s her own fault.”
It was only four short words, but each carried the chill of a death sentence.
Henrietta’s heart shook violently, and tears blurred her vision. Yet she suddenly laughed—hollow, reckless, broken.
“Fine. Fine. What a perfect ‘she brought it on herself,’” she murmured.
Raphael, have you finally stopped pretending?
