CHAPTER 165: CHAPTER 165

At that moment, Victoria exhaled deeply, brushing a few strands of her hair behind her ear, and gave Abigail a serious look. "Look, Abigail," she said slowly, her voice calm but heavy with caution, "I know who you are. I know what you’re capable of. You’ve never needed anyone’s help to crush the people in your way. But I just want to be honest with you, Cora is not your average nuisance. Don’t think she’s one of those women you can scare off with status, threats, or scandal."

Again Abigail narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated by the repeated warnings. "You’ve said this before, Victoria," she muttered under her breath.

But Victoria wasn’t finished. She took a step closer and said, "I know. I’m repeating it because I mean it. The way Cora handled Samuel... it wasn’t just some lucky strike. She took him down piece by piece, Abigail. The man is practically a ghost now. His career? Gone. His investments? transfered to his hidden wife and daughter. His reputation? Ruined. And the most terrifying part? It all happened so fast, like it was a planned operation. One minute, he was everywhere; the next minute, he was nothing. No one even saw it coming."

At that moment Abigail’s lips tightened into a thin cold line, but then she raised her chin and said with confidence, "I heard. I read it all. But let me remind you again, Victoria, I’m not Samuel. I’m Abigail. I don’t make mistakes. I don’t fall easily. I see the storm before it hits, and I shut it down before it becomes a threat."

Then Victoria looked at her silently for a few seconds and then smiled slightly. "I believe you," she said. "But just be careful. That’s all I’m saying."

There was a brief silence between them, but it was quickly broken when Abigail suddenly brightened, her tone changing to something far more relaxed and casual. "Anyway, enough about that. Let’s talk about something more exciting."

Victoria blinked. "Like what?"

Abigail grinned. "Everything Luxury," she said. "You know they just released their new limited edition collection yesterday. I already booked a spot to get first pick tomorrow. I want you to come with me."

Victoria’s brows lifted, amused. "You booked a seat already?"

"Of course," Abigail said smugly. "You think I’d miss out on those pieces? I need something bold, expensive, and unapologetically powerful. Something Cora could never afford even if she sold her soul. I want her to see me and remember who she’s up against."

Immediately Victoria’s eyes gleamed with playful amusement as she chuckled softly. "Why would I say no to that? I’m not busy tomorrow. Count me in. Let’s go show them how it’s done."

Abigail smiled, satisfied. "That’s what I like to hear."

**

Inside Cora’s hospital room, everything was quiet lit, just the way she liked it. She was lying on the hospital bed, her body still feeling heavy from the medications that the doctor had earlier explained were still circulating through her system. Though she was stable and would likely be discharged by that evening or the following morning, the doctor had insisted she needed uninterrupted rest to fully recover her strength.

Cora’s eyes remained closed, her mind floating somewhere between light sleep and half-consciousness. The soft rhythm of the heart monitor filled the room like a lullaby. Malisa had stepped outside just moments earlier to handle a quick errand, reminding the nurses on duty that Cora should not be disturbed under any circumstance.

Suddenly, the door to the room creaked open.

However Cora heard Malisa’s voice from the hallway, slightly raised in protest. "Sir, she’s resting. Please, she needs rest. The doctor said."

But the man at the door didn’t wait. His footsteps approached with boldness, ignoring the warning. Cora, disturbed by the sudden interruption, furrowed her brows and slowly turned her head, blinking as she tried to adjust to the light and make out who had entered.

To her surprise, it was William.

He stood at the entrance with a polished charm, holding a basket in his hand. The basket was adorned with fresh flowers, a bottle of expensive red wine, imported chocolate bars, a small plush toy, and neatly packed juices, all the thoughtful items someone might bring to a person recovering in a hospital. William wore a calm smile on his face as if he had every right to be there.

The nurses stationed near the VIP ward couldn’t help but blush and giggle to themselves as they caught sight of him. His well-tailored outfit, confident demeanor, and the way he carried the gift basket made them assume instantly: This must be Cora’s boyfriend. Their curious eyes followed him as he walked in, some even whispering among themselves.

Back in the room, Cora was completely baffled, she pushed herself up slowly on the bed with her elbows and gave William a long, confused stare. Her voice, though a little faint, was sharp with surprise and suspicion.

"What... what are you doing here, William?"

At that moment, William tilted his head slightly, one brow arching with mild amusement before a confident smile slowly stretched across his face. He held the gift basket a bit higher and said smoothly, "Well, I came to see you, of course. Why wouldn’t I? The moment I heard what happened, I couldn’t just sit still. I was furious. That good-for-nothing so-called actor dared to lay a hand on you? Who the hell does he think he is?"

His voice carried a blend of contempt and outrage, as if the offense had been done to him personally. "I already put a call through," William continued, placing the basket gently on the side table. "I don’t care what it takes, I’m making sure he rots behind bars. Life imprisonment isn’t even enough for someone like him. He should count himself lucky if that’s all he gets. I’ve already spoken to a few people. Consider it handled."

He ended with a shrug, like it was all too easy for someone of his status. But while he expected gratitude or at least a softened expression, what he got instead froze the confidence right off his face.

Cora slowly raised herself from the bed properly now, propping a pillow behind her. Her face wasn’t one of admiration or surprise, it was irritation.

"Who asked you for that?" she asked, her voice calm but razor-sharp. "Do I look like someone that asked you for help?"