Chapter 103 No, You Don't Understand
Lucas's question brought back memories.
The night my parents were brutally killed, I wasn't home at first. When I heard the news, I rushed back immediately, but was ambushed on the way. Two bullets, fired one minute apart, hit my right hand.
One went straight through my palm, the other lodged inside. Because I missed the best time for treatment, it left lasting effects—my middle finger can't fully bend, and my index finger isn't as flexible as before. For a surgeon, this was undoubtedly a huge blow to my career.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting scattered shadows beside me. Lucas asked again, still waiting for my answer.
"Gunshot wound. Damaged the nerves." I knew he wouldn't give up until he got an answer, so I gave him a brief one, then looked at Roger. "I know my own hand. If surgery could fix it, I would've done it already. I'll find you two more assistants. If there's nothing else, you can go."
Roger disagreed. "Why can't it be fixed with surgery? Don't you want to heal your hand?"
"Seems like you're not that busy. Someone else contacted me yesterday wanting treatment."
"Busy! So busy! I'm swamped!"
Before I could finish, Roger interrupted irritably and ran out of my office without looking back, afraid I'd pile more work on him.
"Why not get treatment?" Lucas asked.
"I told you, it's hard to treat." His gaze never left my hand. I couldn't help but put it under the desk. "If you don't have anything else—"
"Bella, I understand you better than you think," Lucas said in a low voice.
"No, you don't." I replied curtly.
Lucas's instinct was right. I really didn't want to treat my hand injury.
Over these years, I'd taken a hands-off approach, almost masochistically enduring the aftereffects of the injury, because this way I could deceive myself—it wasn't that I was incompetent and couldn't save my parents' lives, but rather that my hand injury was too serious and affected my surgical skills.
"Please leave. I still have work to do," I said.
After a silent standoff of more than ten seconds, Lucas went along with my wishes and stopped probing. "Okay, I'm leaving."
He stood up, suddenly remembering something, and pulled out a small dark brown round tin from his pocket. "You should've finished those candies I gave you for New Year's. These are new ones."
I wanted to say no, but he put down the candy tin and left. I didn't get the chance to refuse.
Not long after he left, the office door was pushed open again.
Marcus walked in, wearing black and white leather pants and a leather jacket, his presence commanding.
"Why is Lucas here again?"
"He found out some things about Brenda." I handed Marcus the documents.
"Then he's barely useful." Marcus was still displeased. "Has he been bothering you lately? Bella, don't be afraid of him, and don't worry about causing us trouble. The whole point of our efforts is so you can do whatever you want and live happily."
Marcus's eyes darted around. He picked up the desk phone and called security. "From now on, if you see Lucas anywhere near the hotel, stop him. Don't let him get close."
"Can't stop him? Use force! Don't you know how to do that?"
Only after getting security's assurance did Marcus hung up, satisfied.
And I had no intention of stopping him the entire time.
Marcus casually picked up the small tin on the desk. "What's this? Candy?"
He popped one in his mouth, sat on the small sofa, and chatted with me about Gale, then said he had to go on a mission and would be back in about a week.
I immediately stopped thinking about the emotional impact Lucas had on me and focused on preparing money, medicine, and weapons for Marcus.
Although Marcus would prepare these things himself—even more professionally than me—he enjoyed my concern. After all, I was his only sister.
That evening, after Brian and I finished dinner, we sat in the living room eating fruit.
There was movement at the front door. Gale was finally home.
Brian and I simultaneously gave him our "full attention."
I asked, "Gale, have you eaten dinner?"
Brian said with a smile, "It's so late, he must have eaten already. If I'm not wrong, he ate with Julie."
I asked eagerly, "Is Brian right?"
Gale looked at us two troublemakers somewhat helplessly. "Yes."
Brian and I exchanged glances and let out teasing cheers.
Gale cleared his throat, his expression somewhat serious. "I'm pursuing Julie. She hasn't agreed yet."
Gale's tone was very serious, with a barely noticeable tenderness in his eyes.
Brian and I immediately cheered even louder, demanding that Gale tell us the details of his pursuit.
"Nothing much to tell." Gale kept a straight face, but you could tell he was just a bit embarrassed.
"It started on Bella's birthday. Julie came to the party, but her shoe strap broke—you know, those high heels with really thin straps that women love."
Julie almost twisted her ankle. With people coming and going in the ballroom, anyone else would have felt embarrassed and awkward in that situation, but Julie calmly took off her shoes and carried them, handed her gift to a server, tilted her head back to finish what little champagne was left in her glass, and was ready to head home.
Gale was attracted by her carefree attitude. He invited Julie to the lounge and had someone bring her a pair of new shoes that fit—of course, using my name.
I remembered that at the birthday party, Gale had indeed asked me about Julie. I'd said Julie was single. At the time, Gale seemed indifferent, but he'd actually already fallen for her?
I silently thought to myself that Gale was reserved yet provocative, and asked him, "I support you pursuing Julie, but what are you going to do about Brenda?"
Brenda had been kicked out today, but she definitely wouldn't let it go. She'd most likely come back to cause trouble.
At the mention of Brenda, Gale's expression darkened.
Although his engagement to Brenda was arranged by family elders, Gale had always given Brenda whatever she asked for, but she was never satisfied.
Her daughter was six years old, but six years ago, she was still with Gale!
"I'll handle it," Gale said firmly.
The next day, I received the latest news. Late last night, the old house Brenda was renting caught fire. The flames spread from the front door to the living room. Because a resident in the same building came home late and discovered the fire, they called the police in time and prevented any casualties.
Without even thinking, I knew this was Gale's warning to Brenda.
I thought after this incident, Brenda would settle down, but she not only didn't restrain herself, she got worse.
Three days later in the afternoon, James came to me with a grave expression. "The finance department says someone has a document with Mr. Sorelli's personal signature requesting funds to be transferred online. It's a large amount, and it's urgent."
I instinctively frowned. "Gale needs money?"
James shook his head. "Remember how you recently reminded me about Jonas being scammed? I had the finance department ask about the purpose of this money, but the person on the phone couldn't explain it clearly!"
"Let me see the document," I said.
James had it ready and handed me a document, saying with confusion, "I've verified it—it really is Mr. Sorelli's handwriting! I wanted to call him to confirm, but he's on a plane right now. Should you call Mr. Sorelli on the satellite phone?"
I carefully examined the document, then waved my hand. "No need. The handwriting is real, but the document is fake. It must be Brenda."
She had a history of stealing confidential documents!