Inside the room, Vincent Hughes sighed. "You're ruthless, Jonathan. She's your blood. A top student at Jiangcheng University, reduced to a husk of a woman. Last week, she was short three hundred dollars for your medicine. She came to me, begging."
Jonathan's expression darkened. "Did you give it to her?"
Vincent shook his head. "You gave a direct order. Did I have a choice?"
"That girl knelt at my doorstep for an entire afternoon," he continued, voice heavy. "She collapsed from starvation right there on the concrete. I was too afraid of you to even call an ambulance. When she finally woke up, she crawled away."
Vincent left out the ugly details.
That day, I had cast aside my last shred of dignity. I had practically thrown myself at him, clothes half-undone, offering my body for the cash. Jonathan's imported medication had been cut off for a week; I was terrified his condition would worsen.
But I had tapped out every resource.
Vincent had looked at me like I was a ghost and kicked me out in a panic.
So that's why, I realized, a bitter taste rising in my throat. It wasn't that he didn't want to lend me the money. He couldn't.
Jonathan sneered, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave.