My Fiancée Let His Secretary Cut Me—Now I Let the World See Them Crumble

The nurses exchanged nervous glances. A few had started to move toward me, but Lochlan’s voice sliced through the air like ice.

“Anyone who touches her is declaring war on the Hargraves.”

He paused, his eyes like knives. “If you don’t care about your career in Ardelis—go ahead. Try me.”

He wrapped his arm around Olivia and didn’t even spare me a glance. Instead, he barked an order at a trembling Mr. Boatman.

“Get the top specialists in this hospital. All of them. I want a full medical examination done on Miss Charles immediately.”

“No mistakes. No delays. She doesn’t get so much as a paper cut.”

Olivia strutted over like a cat about to play with a dying mouse. She crouched in front of me, her blood-red nails digging into the wound on my cheek.

“Well, well, Ingrid. Bleeding out on the floor like the trash you are.”

She grinned. “You really thought someone would save you?”

As if her cruelty needed more theater, she turned dramatically, her voice syrupy and fake.

“Mr. Hargrave,” she purred, “I’ve always thought doctors look so elegant in their white coats. So dignified.”

She pointed at my injured eye, smeared with blood and still leaking tears.

“She said her eye is ‘precious.’ Well then—why don’t I practice my surgical technique with it? Let’s see what it takes to slice a double eyelid.”

My blood ran cold.

She—this clueless fool who probably couldn’t name a single sterile technique—wanted to use my eye as a training dummy?

This wasn’t just any eye. It was the cornerstone of a surgical future. A tool developed through years of training and national investment. A symbol of hope.

And Lochlan?

He didn’t even flinch. If anything, he chuckled and gave her a playful tap on the nose.

“You little devil.”

Before I could react, Lochlan gave a single wave of his hand—and his guards moved in.

They pinned me to the cold gurney, locking down my wrists and ankles. I struggled with everything I had, but I was too weak—blood loss had drained every ounce of fight from my limbs.

Lochlan looked down at me like I was something he’d scrape off his shoe.

“Olivia’s offering to personally operate. You should be honored, Ingrid. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Buzzing with excitement, Olivia dashed into Mr. Boatman’s office. Moments later, she emerged wearing an oversized white coat, clearly stolen. Lochlan's gaze followed her like she was the queen of the universe.

She plucked a surgical scalpel from a nearby crash cart—still stained with blood—and waved it in front of my face.

“It’s just a couple of cuts. How hard could it be?” she said sweetly.

The blade caught the light, glinting red with someone else’s dried blood. It made my stomach turn.

“Mr. Hargrave,” she giggled, “What if I mess up and blind her? I’ve never done this before.”

Lochlan didn’t even blink. “Then she goes blind. I’ll pay her a million in compensation.”

“A million?!” I snapped, rage finally breaking through my fear. “You think you can buy this eye just with one million? It’s a national treasure!”

His hand came down hard across my face, snapping my head sideways.

“Finally showing your true colors, huh?” he sneered. “One second it’s a ‘national treasure,’ the next it’s about money. So how much do you want?”

“One million not enough? Fine. Ten million, then.”

He leaned in, his voice like poison.

“In Ardelis, there’s nothing I, Lochlan Hargrave, can’t afford.”

“Pin her to the surgical table,” Olivia ordered smugly. “And gag her. I don’t want her screaming and messing up my concentration.”

They stuffed a cloth into my mouth and strapped me down so tightly I could barely breathe. Cold steel pressed against my spine.

Olivia leaned in, her smile morphing into something monstrous.

She gripped my head and plunged the bloodied scalpel toward the corner of my injured eye.

The pain was blinding.

I screamed into the cloth, head slamming against the metal bedframe, but she just laughed—giddy, deranged.

“What’s wrong?” she cooed. “Can’t scream anymore? Oh wait, right. We gagged you.”

I jerked my head, forcing the cloth out of my mouth and screamed hoarsely, “Stop! That blade isn’t sterile! You’ll cause sepsis! You’re committing assault! This is attempted murder!”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, dragging the scalpel across my other eye, just to leave a bloody trail. “You should be grateful. Not everyone gets a makeover by me, Hargrave Global’s own secretary.”

“Don’t like it? Tough luck.”

I was slipping—my vision swimming in darkness, the pain overwhelming everything.

Lochlan groaned nearby, impatient. “Enough already. It’s just a couple of cuts. Don’t act like you’re in the torture chamber.” He leaned in close again, voice full of disdain.

“Take the ten million. That’s more than a peasant like you could spend in a lifetime.”

I watched Olivia lift the scalpel again.

I had nothing left—no strength, no defense.

But I still had my mind.

I forced a smile. Soft. Weak. But deliberate.

“Lochlan,” I said slowly. “Have you ever wondered… what would happen if Hargrave Global vanished from Ardelis—by tomorrow morning?”

He looked amused.

He leaned in, sneering. “Still dreaming, even at death’s door?”

He bent down to grab the cloth again.

“I’ll tell you this—Ingrid, even God himself couldn’t save you today.”

He never finished the sentence.

Because right then, the double doors at the end of the hallway opened—silent, but absolute.

And my father walked in.

Behind him, a full medical extraction team moved in like shadows—swift, surgical and ice-cold.

Lochlan’s brow furrowed. “Another one? Jesus, Ingrid, how many poor relatives do you have? Maybe I’ll just—”

He never got to finish.

My father didn’t even look at him. He crossed the distance between us and stopped at my side. When he saw my blood-soaked face and how tightly I was restrained, a storm ignited in his eyes—but his voice was like frozen steel.

Without a word, he took off his coat and laid it gently over my body.

He nodded once at the head of the medical team.

They moved in immediately. Their hands were calm, practiced—already lifting me onto a mobile bed, already wheeling me away from the chaos and the blood and the horror.

Not once did my father glance at Lochlan again.

Lochlan and Olivia stood frozen, watching us leave in silence. Then, almost childishly, Lochlan shouted after us:

“Run all you want! You think this is over? I promise—you won’t get far!”

We didn’t respond. We didn’t look back.

The black car waited at the curb. The doors closed. The chaos of the hospital disappeared behind us.

My father took out his phone. Dialed a number.