Chapter 186 Severed Finger

Chapter 186 Severed Finger

"Mm."

A brief pause on the other end of the line, then Ryan continued, "He came to Silverlight City this time to track down someone he loved when he was young."

Not wanting to dwell on matters of the heart, he smoothly changed the subject. "By the way, will you be home tomorrow? I can drop off the gift I have for you in the afternoon."

"Sure, I'd love that."

The mention of a gift immediately sparked my interest. "I'll be home these days, not going anywhere."

After hanging up, Emily and I did a quick wash-up and fell straight into bed.

The next morning I woke up on my own. When I rolled over, I found the spot beside me already empty.

I grabbed my phone to check the time—already past ten in the morning.

There was a message from Emily, sent a little after eight: [Slipping out now. If I stay any longer, I'm scared I'll start to need you. Next time Michael comes bothering me, I'll come hide at your place again.]

I smiled and typed back: [You're so irresponsible—sleep over and just disappear.]

It didn't take long for Emily to reply, along with a cheeky smiley face.

Emily: [Getting to sleep next to me? Count yourself lucky!]

I turned over and lay there scrolling through my phone.

I genuinely hoped Emily could sort things out with Michael this time and cut ties for good.

Emily and I clicked naturally—same personalities, same values—so we'd always been especially close. But I only wanted us to keep the best of who we were: clear-headed, free-spirited. I didn't want to see us get tangled up in the same kind of dragged-out mess when it came to relationships.

I opened up social media.

The scandal with Daniel and Jane still dominated every platform. All kinds of influencers were jumping on it for clicks—entertainment accounts, relationship advice accounts, even beauty bloggers. Finance creators had gotten in on it too, breaking down the whole situation from a market angle.

One seasoned finance blogger posted an analysis pointing out that the scandal had hit the Spencer Group hard. The company's stock had fallen two days in a row, with no sign of a recovery in sight.

I was certain Alvin was deliberately driving this from behind the scenes.

Most of the posts across the internet sounded nearly identical—clearly a coordinated effort. These influencers were pulling in platform revenue while collecting payments from Alvin at the same time. Two streams of income, one wave of content.

As far as I was concerned, this was exactly what they deserved.

I was in an unusually good mood today, and for once I actually felt like cooking.

The delivery arrived right on time—wagyu beef, fresh live shrimp, and seasonal fruit.

I boiled the shrimp in plain water, then put together a fruit salad with fresh vegetables from the fridge, strawberries, and cherry tomatoes. The grapes this season weren't great, so I swapped them out for blueberries for the color, then spread on the dressing and scattered a little cheese on top for flavor. I wasn't thinking about calories at all—just enjoying the food.

I heated up the pan and took the refrigerated steak out of the fridge. I patted it dry with paper towels—no rinsing—to keep as much of that texture as possible.

I rubbed freshly ground sea salt and black pepper over both sides, pressing it gently into the meat so the seasoning could really work its way in.

The butter in the pan melted and started to bubble. The moment the steak hit the pan, it let out a sizzle and the smell of meat filled the kitchen.

I let it sit for two minutes to build a nice crust on the surface, then flipped it.

Then I added more butter and fresh rosemary, and kept spooning the hot oil over the steak. The fat mixed with that herby scent—better than any candle or perfume.

Once it was done, I didn't cut into it right away. I let it rest for five minutes to hold in the juices.

I sliced it on the bias—a deep sear on the outside, a soft pink inside, cooked just right.

No extra seasoning needed. The flavor had already gone all the way through. William used to rave about my steak every single time.

I caught myself and wondered, almost without meaning to, why I was thinking about him again.

Every bit of skill I had in the kitchen came from my own practice—hours and hours of it.

It was just that the reason I started learning had to do with William. Early in our marriage, he was so thin. It worried me.

I'd asked Madison to reach out to one of the best chefs in Silverlight City so I could take proper cooking lessons.

That chef, who had trained in Eldoria, told me I had a natural gift—that cooking came from somewhere deep in me, an instinct I was just born with.

There are so many people and things I've fought to forget, to cut away from myself.

But the past has already woven itself into my life, into my habits. I can't outrun it or pretend it isn't there. So much of what I put into those years has become reflex, muscle memory.

I'd made a whole spread of food, and I sat there eating without tasting any of it.

My thoughts were scattered, cycling through things I couldn't pin down.

I reasoned with myself—this was just the adjustment period that comes with leaving a relationship behind. All I needed to do was work through it, keep moving, and not let the noise pull me off course.

After eating, I cleared the table. By then it was already afternoon.

That's when a call came in from Downtown General Hospital.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Spencer? A family member of yours has gotten into a confrontation here at the hospital. Things have escalated."

I was confused. "Which family member?"

My first thought was Daniel and Jane causing trouble again. I kept my voice even. "If this is about the Spencer family, that's not my concern anymore."

"No—it's your aunt and uncle."

I frowned slightly. "Whatever argument they've gotten themselves into, they can handle it. I'm not law enforcement. Calling me won't do anything."

I hung up.

Olivia and David had always been trouble, David especially. I'd already been more than generous with them—all I'd asked was that they get the treatment they needed and leave Silverlight City for good.

It hadn't crossed my mind that they'd turn around and cause a scene at the hospital.

I sat on the couch thinking it over, then decided I'd just go deal with it myself.

By the time I got to the hospital, the police were already there. A crowd had gathered outside the ward on the second floor.

One of the officers spotted me pushing through and spoke up. "What's your relationship to the people involved?"

"I'm Olivia's niece."

"Good timing. See if you can calm things down." He looked tired. "They're both middle-aged and they're getting physical in public. It's a domestic situation—we can't exactly force our way in."

I nodded and stepped inside.

The first thing I saw was David standing straight, his expression carefully rehearsed into something resembling sincerity, making a statement to the officer. "You have my word, officer. I won't act out again. That was a moment of poor judgment on my part. I'll write a formal statement and bring it to the station myself."

The officer taking notes looked at him with open skepticism. "David, you've got a prior record. The gambling charges haven't even been fully settled."

"Officer!"

David suddenly pulled off his glove, revealing his right hand. His middle and ring fingers were gone.

"Look—to prove I'm done gambling, done with all of it, I cut off two of my own fingers. It's a vow."

The wounds looked fresh. It hadn't happened long ago.

My brow furrowed, a deep unease settling in. I didn't believe for a second that David had done this to himself.

William wouldn't go to an extreme like this. So—had Ryan been the one behind it?