The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Clarice turned around, her eyes scanning the empty hallway as an icy chill ran down her spine.

She had heard someone calling her "Rosalind Gold", a name she had long since abandoned. That was a remnant of a past she believed she had put to rest for good. Yet now, it was resurfacing, threatening to drag her back into memories she had sworn to kill.

For years, she believed she had cut off all ties with her former self, but hearing the name she had carried for over two decades still triggered an instinctive response.

"Dr. Amaryllis!" At that moment, a man who appeared to be a director approached with a respectful smile, followed by two medical staff.

"I've prepared the latest batch of drugs. Should we administer it to the test subjects today?"

"How many times must I tell you?" Clarice's voice turned icy as she fixed her gaze on him." They are not test subjects. They are patients. Don't make it sound as if we're monsters."

The man chuckled and responded, "Of course, you're absolutely right!"

"By the way," Clarice added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you see anyone suspicious while you were on your way here?"

The trio exchanged confused glances.

"Suspicious? No, Dr. Amaryllis. This place is tightly guarded-it's almost impossible for anyone unauthorized to sneak in."

"Don't get complacent. We're in Savrow

been summoned to the

couple of medical staff wheeling a hospital bed in his direction. At first, he paid it little mind, but then a weak,

me... Please... Save

gaze dropped to the source of the

girl, deathly pale and trembling. Her thin arm,

paused in his steps. The girl's

and even more people on the brink of death. But this girl's gaze struck him in a way that

the girl, her face full of hopelessness, was

medical staff by the arm, his deep voice

"Dr. Amaryllis instructed us to

furrowed as he asked,

replied indifferently, as if they were discussing the weather. "But even if it hadn't, she's terminally ill. She'd die sooner or later anyway, so it's better to put her out of her misery

the veins on his hand bulging, mirroring the storm brewing in his

as a virtuous man, but the inhumanity of these people scraped against the last shreds of his moral

ever. "I'll be meeting the Boss shortly. You're responsible for watching over that man tonight. This is a direct order from the

her, his expression dark and unreadable, as though he wanted to