“Any further delay and you could lose the hand!”
I said nothing and pushed myself toward the door.
I was stopped at the front entrance of my own mansion.
“Mr. Cole has given orders. Ms. Ward’s surgery isn’t finished.”
“Ma’am, you can’t leave yet.”
Through the carved door, I stared at the layers of men surrounding the estate—and fell silent.
Adrian truly lived up to his so-called “knight’s code” in the underworld.
To save Clara’s life, he would do anything—
even if it meant turning me into a cripple from this day on and handing over generations of the Hayes empire.
I gave a cold laugh and dialed Adrian in front of everyone.
“Adrian, I’m leaving. I’m getting treatment.”
Silence for a few seconds on the line. Then his voice went cold.
“Wait.”
“Clara’s still in emergency care—the bullet hasn’t been removed.”
“Coco, if I let you out now, do you think she’ll survive?”
Everyone in Newport City knew I paid back blood for blood.
His men straightened at once, guns raised to block my way.
“Ma’am, don’t make this harder on us.”
Sweat beaded down my forehead.
I dropped the phone and said, ice-cold, “Hayes family, listen to my order.”
“Kill anyone who dares stand in your way today.”
I drew a long-unused combat knife from my back.
Bloodshot-eyed, I let go of reason completely.
Anyone who blocked me—I slashed for their throat and heart without hesitation.
Until today, these men were brothers.
They were the ones who helped the Hayes family get this far.
After today—bridges are bridges, roads are roads.
I won’t feed men who eat our bread while bowing to another name.
I don’t know how long I killed before going numb; my arms were slick with blood—
some theirs, some mine.
A black van stopped in front of me.
Instinctively, I raised my blade to kill.
Then I saw the driver was one of our own.
Everything in me gave out. I collapsed into the seat.
My lieutenant steadied me, hesitating. “Are we still going to St. Mary’s Hospital?”
That hospital—Adrian had built it up for me years ago.
He’d gathered the world’s best specialists in wrist injuries—
all because I once said, “My hand hurts.”
The internet always joked that St. Mary’s was better at plastics than rehab.
I never believed it.
Now I finally had my answer.
I turned away decisively, watching the city blur past the window.
“No. Summon the best doctors in Newport City to Newport General Hospital.”
“From now on, Hayes business is done by the Hayes.”