Chapter 7

Anderson Group, front desk. "Miss Anderson, without an appointment, you can't see Mr. Carter." Emily glanced at the time, her anxiety rising. It had taken so much for James to agree to see her—she couldn't afford to waste time here. She quickly dialed his number, hoping for help. The man's voice on the other end was casual, aloof. "You want to come up? Then climb your way here." Emily looked toward the stairwell. His office was on the 28th floor. She bit her lip, not even sure what to say before his voice came again, light but cold. "And don't forget, crawl. On your knees." His words stabbed right into her heart. Step by painful step, she walked to the stairs, her nails digging into her palms. The commotion had already drawn a crowd—people practically packed around the stairwell entrance. "Twenty-eight floors? She'll be dead by the time she makes it. And she has to kneel all the way?" "Heard she was the reason Mr. Carter's mom and kid died…" "That's awful. No wonder she has to crawl—serves her right." Their words pierced Emily like needles. She slowly dropped to her knees. Her forehead hit the step with a loud thud. Tears streamed down her face. James, if this is what you want, fine. I'll give it to you. Up on the 28th floor, James sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the screen. The woman in the video looked so fragile, swaying with effort but never falling. Every stair was stained with the blood from her forehead. His own chest tightened at the sight. "Where is she now?" he asked. "18th floor," Lucas replied. Just the 18th… James's knuckles turned white, fists clenched so tight they trembled. Through the gaps in his fingers, a faint glow of creamy white jade could be seen— Mrs. Carter's pendant, the one she left him. Pain scorched through his palm. His face was frozen cold. Emily, this is the debt you owe my mom. After today, your punishment is done. You better do it right. 19th, 20th, 21st... Emily dragged herself up floor after floor. Her mouth tasted of blood. Her forehead no longer felt pain—it was completely numb. Each bow to the ground busted open the clotted wounds again, smearing her face with red. Her arms and legs felt like lead, but she forced herself on, slowly and painfully. She stopped counting floors. Blood blurred her vision. She missed a step. Her whole body tumbled backward. In a flash, James shot up from his seat like a panther and bolted out the door. Emily's body lay in a pool of blood, her stomach wound split again. His pupils shrank in horror. He raced down to her, scooping her into his arms. "Emily..." His voice trembled with fear. His hands gently patted her face. "Emily, wake up..." She opened her eyes, but her vision was a blur. That embrace—warm and familiar. And that tender voice… It made her feel like she was dreaming. Only one person had ever spoken to her like that—Daniel. A pang of sadness hit her, and a small, bitter smile curled on her lips. "Daniel..." The arms around her tensed instantly. Then they tightened desperately. James carried her back up to the 28th floor. By then, she had passed out cold. She came to later, lying on James's office couch. Her forehead and abdomen were freshly wrapped, but her limbs felt stiff like deadwood. She blinked for a long while before she came to her senses. She suddenly remembered why she was here. She sat up fast—only to meet a face cold as ice. "Ja—James..." The chill in his eyes stopped her words. "You passed out on the 21st floor. That's what you call sincerity?" Her lips were pale, drained of all color. "I... I'm sorry. I'll go again—I'll finish it..." She had barely moved and her body gave out, collapsing right at his feet. James raised his foot and lifted her chin with it. "You really think I've got the time to play this stupid game with you over and over again?"