Chapter 85 How Is She Supposed to Compete with Injured Hands?

Chapter 85 How Is She Supposed to Compete with Injured Hands?

Violet's POV

Ever since I had paid Emily's family that little visit, they had gone completely silent.

I asked Celeste to dig around, and she discovered that Emily's father had been in contact with the Vasquez family.

Exactly as I suspected.

But with the competition deadline looming, I did not have time to deal with their scheming right now.

For the past few days, I had been practically living in the university lab, running through restoration techniques over and over until my hands moved on autopilot.

That afternoon, I showed up at the lab right on schedule.

I reached for the door handle, but something felt off. The door was heavier than usual, as if someone had wedged something behind it.

Thinking it was just stuck, I braced my left hand against the doorframe for leverage and pushed hard with my right.

That was when it happened.

Footsteps pounded behind me—fast, heavy, deliberate.

A massive figure slammed into the half-open door with brutal force.

I did not even have time to process what was happening.

The door crashed shut.

My hand was still there.

The pain hit me like a lightning strike—white-hot and all-consuming. It tore through my fingers and shot up my arm, stealing the breath from my lungs.

My knees buckled.

I clutched my left hand, staring in horror as all four fingers swelled grotesquely, the skin turning an angry purple-red. Dark bruises bloomed beneath the surface like ink spreading through water.

Worse—I could not move them. Not even a twitch.

"Well, well, if it isn't our resident genius, Violet. How careless of you. Of all the places to put your hand, you chose the door hinge? If that hand is ruined, how are you going to compete? What a shame."

I looked up. It was the guy from the conference—the one who had jumped to Bethany's defense.

"You did this on purpose." My voice shook, whether from pain or rage I could not tell. Cold sweat dripped down my temples.

He shrugged, maddeningly casual. "Careful with accusations like that. I was just in a hurry and did not see you. Not my fault you were in the way."

He whistled as he sauntered into the lab, without a care in the world.

I bit down hard on my lip, forcing myself to move through the searing pain. One step at a time, I made my way to Carl's office.

When Carl saw my hand—fingers grotesquely swollen—the color drained from his face. His pen clattered to the floor.

"My God! Violet! Your hand!"

"Professor… I need to get to a hospital. I can't move my fingers." The pain was so intense I could barely form words. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes.

"Oh God—yes! Get in my car—now!" Carl was so rattled he could barely string a sentence together.

At the hospital, the doctor immediately sent me for X-rays.

I had just stepped out of the radiology room when I heard it—rapid footsteps, heavy and purposeful, cutting through the sterile hospital air like a blade.

Clifford appeared in full business attire, clearly having rushed straight from some meeting. His tie was slightly loosened, his jaw set.

When his eyes landed on my hand, the storm that erupted in his gaze was terrifying. "Who the hell did this to her?"

The sheer force of his presence made the air feel heavier, harder to breathe.

Carl visibly tensed under Clifford's fury, but quickly explained. "One of the students in the project group—Peter. He slammed into the door while Violet's hand was on the frame. She did not have time to pull it back…"

"Bring him to me. Now."

"Yes, sir." One of Clifford's men materialized from somewhere and vanished just as quickly.

The X-ray results would take time.

I could not stop shaking—from the pain, from the fear of what this meant for the competition, from everything.

Clifford sat down beside me without a word and carefully pulled me into his arms. "Don't be afraid, Violet. I'm here."

His embrace steadied me, but the throbbing in my fingers was relentless, a constant reminder of what had just been taken from me.

The results came back quickly. My middle finger had a comminuted fracture—the bone shattered into multiple pieces. I needed surgery immediately to realign and stabilize it.

"Doctor, will the surgery affect my baby?"

"We will use the safest anesthesia protocol for pregnancy and have an OB-GYN monitor throughout. Your baby will be fine."

I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.

They wheeled me into the operating room.

An hour later, it was over.

The doctor told me the bone had been realigned and secured with a micro-plate. Now I just needed to rest and let it heal.

Back in the recovery room, Clifford never left my side.

One of his men entered, leaned in close, and whispered something in his ear.

Clifford nodded. The man left.

He turned to me, adjusting the blanket around my shoulders. "Violet, we have Peter. I need to go handle this, but I will be back soon. Will you be okay alone?"

I nodded. "By the way… Peter has a thing for Bethany."

Clifford's expression darkened. "You think Bethany put him up to this?"

I shook my head. "Bethany doesn't care about him. I doubt she ordered this directly. But you might want to look into Emily. Just a hunch."

"Understood. Anyone who hurt you is going to pay." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Rest. I will be back."

He straightened, adjusted his cuffs, and walked out with that same controlled, predatory grace.

After Clifford left, I used my good hand to call Celeste. "Make the Barnes family disappear from Y City. I don't want to see them again."

I paused, a thought striking me. "Actually, wait. Before you make them disappear, drain them completely first."

Celeste hesitated for a beat. "Understood. I'll handle it."