C14 To Humiliate and Torture Her.

Clarissa's head shook with increasing fervor, a clear sign of her distress. "I can't, Mr. Morgan, I just can't go to the Public Relations Department." Desperation laced her voice as she pleaded, "I realize my mistake. Please, Mr. Morgan, have mercy. I've served three years behind bars and paid my dues. Just give me my bank card, and I'll vanish—far, far away. I swear, you'll never see me again in this lifetime."

All Clarissa could do was beg, oblivious to the shock that flickered in Amadea's eyes upon hearing of her prison time. Amadea, a newcomer to S City from just two years back, was unfamiliar with Clarissa's story.

Those who had been with Hollis longer knew Clarissa's past well.

Hollis's eyes, long and menacing, narrowed further. Did she really think she could flee from him? Vow to never cross his path again?

A scoff escaped him as he pulled out his phone and issued a command. Soon after, there was a knock at the door, and a subordinate entered, handing him a card.

Crouching to meet the eyes of the kneeling woman, Hollis presented the bank card with a taunt. "Michael has just cleared out this account." Clarissa, puzzled, glanced at the card and then up at Hollis for an explanation.

"You want to be free of this, correct?" Hollis's voice was measured, his thin lips barely moving.

Clarissa, though confused, nodded eagerly.

"Do you think I'm a good person?" he pressed, receiving only silence from Clarissa. A soft laugh escaped him. "Exactly. Hollis has never been the benevolent type. Why would he let you off so easily?"

His gaze on Clarissa was casual, almost detached, as if he were a cat toying with a trapped mouse. A seductive smile played across his striking features.

"Clarissa, this card is empty. But if you can manage to earn five million," he said, casually flicking the card between his fingers, "then I'll consider your debt paid. How does that sound?"

Clarissa's eyes went blank, staring at the card as if it were her downfall. Despair washed over her; he had no intention of releasing her.

Five million was an astronomical sum for her, unimaginable in its enormity. Yet for Hollis, what was five million? She saw right through his cruel game.

His gaze was unyielding, capturing every nuance of her expression, a glint of amusement in his eyes, his lips curling into a slight smirk. Escape? A mere fantasy.

With a definitive thud, Hollis stood, dropping the card before Clarissa. "I don't care how you do it. When there's five million in this card, you're free. Until then, forget about freedom. And don't even think about running. As long as you're alive, I will find you."

Five million... where would she find such a sum?

Panic set in. She turned and called out to Hollis, "Mr. Morgan, this is impossible! How can I, a mere cleaner, come up with five million?"

Hollis, with a dismissive glance, said, "Amadea will move you to the Public Relations Department. Sell your smiles, your tears, your foolishness, or your flaws—anything you can. The wealthy have peculiar tastes. You boasted about bending your knees at will, didn't you? Try it out. And if all else fails, you can sell your body." His mouth twisted cynically.

"But with your looks as they are now... well, that's debatable." With narrowed eyes, he wished her luck and departed, leaving Clarissa to stare after his retreating figure.

Clarissa's face drained of color, eliciting a pang of sympathy from Amadea. "What did you do to upset Director Morgan?"

Clarissa turned with a wry smile, revealing her pale lips marked by a ring of teeth. "Are you okay?" Amadea asked, concern evident.

"I'm fine," Clarissa insisted, steadying herself as Amadea reached out to help. With a shaky smile, she expressed her gratitude, "Thank you, Ms. Amadea."

"Are you really sure you're okay?" Amadea asked, doubting Clarissa's unsteady stance.

Clarissa shook her head, repeating, "I'm fine."

But Amadea wasn't convinced. Watching Clarissa struggle forward, she couldn't help but ask, "You know Director Morgan, don't you?"

Clarissa's body stiffened for a moment before she deflected, "Ms. Amadea, where's the Public Relations Department? Am I starting tonight?"

Amadea, taken aback, hesitated, her questions dying on her lips. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

As they walked, Amadea intentionally slowed her pace. Her time in the entertainment industry had honed her perception, and now her keen gaze settled on Clarissa's legs. She hadn't noticed anything amiss before, but now it was clear that something was wrong with Clarissa's legs.

"Clarissa, are your legs hurting from squatting earlier?" she asked.

Clarissa hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in keeping secrets from Amadea any longer. She glanced up at Amadea, turned her back, lifted her shirt, and softly called out, "Ms. Amadea."

Amadea watched as Clarissa's actions revealed her bare lower back. She gasped sharply, her eyes widening in shock as she covered her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing in the woman before her.

After Clarissa readjusted her clothing, she faced the stunned Amadea and explained, "Ms. Amadea, I'm missing a kidney. Since then, my health has declined, and walking too quickly causes me pain."

"Kidney? What happened to your kidney?"

"I donated it, I guess. I'm not really sure," Clarissa replied.

Amadea, who had weathered many storms, felt a chill run through her at Clarissa's calm demeanor as she spoke of not knowing where her own kidney had gone. How could she be so composed?

"That kidney is a part of you!" Amadea struggled to contain her anger, her voice low and strained in an effort to stay calm. How could Clarissa speak so nonchalantly about it?

Clarissa gave a faint, wry smile. "I'm aware," she said simply, offering no further explanation. Her gaze was resolute as she implored, "Ms. Amadea, I ask that you keep this to yourself." She didn't want her situation to become public knowledge.

"You have my word," Amadea replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't quite grasp why she felt a strange kinship with the woman before her.

After a moment's thought, Amadea broached another subject. "Considering your condition, do you still intend to join the Public Relations Department? You're expected to drink, and even if you abstain, you'll need to handle the occasional drink with difficult clients. I can speak with Director Morgan; your health should disqualify you from the department." Amadea found herself unexpectedly eager to assist Clarissa.

"Please, Ms. Amadea, don't," Clarissa urged, grabbing her arm with a look of earnest pleading. "Mr. Morgan might already be aware." She opened her hand to reveal a bank card and gave Amadea a pained smile. "You've seen the world, Ms. Amadea. Do you think someone with my looks could earn five million?"

The realization hit Amadea like a jolt—Director Morgan was subjecting this woman to a cruel form of torment and humiliation. It was merciless, indeed.

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