The Billionaire Heiress He Threw Away A Revenge She Served Cold

Joanna burst through the hospital doors and headed straight for the blood transfusion department.

She had barely rounded the corridor when a gut-wrenching wail stopped her in her tracks.

Denise Sullivan was on her knees, clutching a doctor's hand and refusing to let go.

Paddy leaned against the wall nearby. He sensed someone watching and looked up. The moment he saw Joanna, his expression turned to ice.

Before Joanna could react, Denise had already charged at her and slapped her across the face.

Denise's eyes were bloodshot. She seized a fistful of Joanna's hair and held on tight.

"You vicious woman, how dare you show your face here! It wasn't enough to spread lies about what happened at the police station and frame my daughter—you had to drag her name through the mud online too, calling her a bully, saying she tried to buy someone off with a million dollars! She has her pride! How is she supposed to live with people talking about her like that?"

Pain seared across Joanna's scalp. Her thoughts scattered. She struggled to pull free, trying to explain.

"I didn't—"

"Enough."

Paddy stepped forward and pried Denise off her.

Joanna steadied herself and met Paddy's cold stare. The words left her mouth before she could think.

"Paddy, it wasn't me—"

"Joanna, when did you become like this?"

His voice was thick with disappointment.

"Are you so desperate for money that you'd stoop to something this low? A million wasn't enough—you had to get greedy and demand twenty-eight million?"

"Do you have any idea that because of you, Lola tried to kill herself?"

Joanna stared at him, frozen.

All these years, he was the one who knew exactly where every penny she saved went. He was the one who knew she never kept anything for herself—that every dollar she scraped together was so those children at the orphanage could live a little more comfortably.

And now the person who knew her best had said the words that cut the deepest.

"Paddy, after all these years, is that really what I am to you? Someone who'd do anything for money?"

Paddy frowned. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something.

The emergency room doors swung open.

Lola was wheeled out, her face white as paper. The moment she saw Joanna, tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Joanna..."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'll pay the twenty-eight million. Just please stop dragging my name through the dirt... I really can't take any more..."

Joanna listened to those words—so carefully wrapped in victimhood, so precisely aimed to destroy—and clenched her fists.

"I didn't do any of it. You're welcome to investigate."

"I have something urgent to deal with right now. I have to go."

She turned to leave.

Several bodyguards stepped forward immediately, blocking her path.

Paddy's voice came from behind her.

"You made a mistake, and you need to own it. You owe the Sullivans—and Lola—an explanation."

Joanna drew a deep breath and turned around.

"Paddy, Director James was attacked. She needs a blood transfusion urgently. I have to get to her right now—"

He hesitated.

He knew better than anyone what that orphanage and its director meant to her.

Joanna would never lie about something like that.

She saw that flicker of hesitation in his eyes and seized it like a lifeline.

"Paddy, I'm begging you. Let me give blood first. After that, you can do whatever you want with me."

Her eyes were rimmed red, but she fought with everything she had to keep the tears from falling.

Seeing her like that, something complicated stirred in Paddy's chest.

Neither side would yield. Then a poised, elegantly dressed older woman walked over.

Lillian Floyd glanced at Joanna, her eyes filled with undisguised contempt.

"Joanna, I always thought you were a sensible woman. I never imagined you'd turn out to be such a liar."

"I had the admissions checked. There is no director among tonight's patients. Not a single one."

Joanna's pupils contracted. "That's impossible—"

Lillian cut her off and turned to Paddy.

"I told you from the start. Women like her put on an act at first—pretending money doesn't matter to them—but give it enough time and the mask always slips. Now do you finally believe me?"

Lillian had never once shown Joanna a kind face. But every single time, Paddy had shielded her. He never allowed his mother to say a single word against her.

He had even moved them both out of the Floyd family estate to spare Joanna from the hostility—the two of them squeezing into a small one-bedroom apartment together.

But this time, Paddy said nothing.

His silence hurt more than any words could have.

In that moment, Joanna heard something inside her shatter completely.

Paddy's voice was flat, utterly devoid of emotion. "Take her home. I'll deal with this later."

The bodyguards closed in. They seized Joanna, and no matter how she struggled, they dragged her back to the Floyd residence.

She was hauled to the ancestral hall. The head housekeeper stood before her, his voice cold.

"Mrs. Floyd has given her orders. As a daughter-in-law of this family, you've made a grave mistake and must be punished accordingly. Since her son can't bring himself to do it, she'll give the command herself."

"Thirty lashes. Afterward, solitary confinement in the cellar."

The whip came down on her back, splitting skin and flesh.

She clenched her teeth and didn't make a sound, but consciousness began slipping away from her.

She couldn't pass out. She still had to save Mrs. James.

When it was over, they dragged her to the cellar.

Her body was a ruin of wounds. She struggled to her hands and knees, then crawled to the door and pounded against it.

"Open the door... please..."

A wrenching cramp tore through her lower abdomen, wave after wave. Joanna looked down. A pool of blood had gathered beneath her.

Her vision darkened. Joanna collapsed.

The door burst open.

Someone rushed in and scooped her into their arms.

She forced her eyes open and saw a face.

"Paddy...?"