Chapter 476 Coercion by Sickness
Now, she was like a hedgehog.
His brow furrowed in explanation: "It was an emergency; she was bleeding. I didn't mean to bump into you..."
An emergency?
"A minor burn, a little bleeding—it's an emergency when it happens to Ishara?"
Winnie laughed bitterly. He truly prized that woman.
And what was she? Worthless as dirt?
"She shouldn't get hurt now!" Lawrence said, his handsome features cold. He set the iodine down on the table and made himself clear, "Winnie, I don't want to see you in conflict with her again. I know you don't like her; maybe you're still annoyed about my leaving Sidney the other night. So this morning, you did what you did..."
His words implied a warning, a veiled threat hidden beneath his cold command.
"Me? Pull something like that?" Winnie exploded with indignation. "You really think I still pine for you, Lawrence? That I'm green with jealousy? And because of your cold-hearted moves I'm taking it out on Ishara, tormenting her on purpose? Is that it?"
"I never said that," he countered, his lips a tight line.
But after recurring conflicts at the office, those suspicions flickered through his mind.
At this juncture, he silently wished she would back down.
Even if Ishara did it deliberately, just for these couple of days, couldn't she tolerate a little?
Yet Winnie's sharp tongue and behavior didn't seem like she was about to let Ishara off the hook.
Lawrence, unable to voice the true reasons, demanded brusquely with feigned detachment, "Ishara's not familiar with our office protocols, okay? She's here to gain experience. Walking into someone's office isn't a crime. Let it go."
"Do you really think she's clueless about the rules, or is she just playing dumb? She provokes me, and I settle the score. This isn't about you, so don’t flatter yourself!"
Couldn't she be more clear? She didn’t care about him, wasn't jealous. Her issue was simply not getting along with Ishara.
That apparent indifference pained him, anger bubbling up within.
His words came out laced with icy barbs as Lawrence loomed over her, "Fine, let's make this crystal clear. I won't allow you to harm her, regardless of what sparked the conflict. And that competition? You mocked her at the meeting the day before yesterday, saying she was only good for brewing coffee. Combine that with this morning's plagiarism accusations—everyone's saying she can't compete with you, that she's talentless. Did you or your subordinate orchestrated this gossip? I'm not sure..."
Winnie watched him coolly, her laughter cutting him off, "You think I need to spin public opinion to take her down? Don't dramatize this, Lawrence. You've known me for years, is that really how you see me?"
Lawrence produced a recording, played it, and it was indeed those comments from their colleagues, criticizing her. "People say your subordinate mocked Ishara at the meeting. That wasn't made up, right?"
"Everything said was true! Didn't she spend working hours making you coffee? And today's plagiarism, she brought that upon herself, Lawrence. Are you truly blind? Why did she sneak a shoddy proposal into my office that had a cover identical to mine, if not to make Melanie think it was my work? So, even though she's manipulative, you indulge her, and you expect me to step back? Is that what you're saying? Sorry, I'm not giving you that satisfaction. You don't have that much sway over me!"
Winnie jerked her hand away from his grasp, dropped the bottle of iodine, and stalked out with a chill enveloping her.
Her cutting words hit him like a slap across the face, freezing his features into an expression of shock.
It all boiled down to this one indictment: What are you to me anyway?
In her heart, he meant nothing at all. She wouldn't suffer the slightest for his sake, or his mother's.
But he had kept his silence, bearing the burden so she wouldn't feel the guilt, the sting from his mother’s leukemia.
After all, wasn't it her prescription that triggered the illness?
What was he doing all of this for? For whom?
At that moment, a mix of coldness and anger churned within him, and he suddenly felt his persistence was just self-delusion.
His long fingers clenched sharply as he kicked over the medicine chest with a swift move.
"Mr. Rodriguez... Miss Blanchet fainted during her check-up in the office," the secretary whispered from the doorway.
Lawrence Rodriguez pinched the bridge of his nose, never before feeling such exhaustion!
But time didn't care for his weariness. With veins throbbing, he strode out, cold and resolute.
Soon after, Melanie saw Lawrence directing his female bodyguard to rush Ishara out of the office, an ambulance wailing impatiently below.
Melanie turned to Winnie, annoyed, "Ishara must be faking it! Why does Lawrence care so much about her, anyway? A cough, a burn, she's not gonna die from that."
Winnie was emotionless, done with whatever was going on between those two.
"We have to keep working on the project; we're pulling an all-nighter. There's a battle to win tomorrow," she said, mustering a wry smile.
Resigned, Melanie sat down with Winnie and Jannie to continue their work.
-
At the hospital, after a round of CPR, Ishara was stabled. The doctor offered her a medication to stabilize her heart rate, which she refused.
Curled up at the head of the bed, she sobbed meekly.
Lawrence pressed his lips together, took the ointment from the doctor to treat the wound on her ankle, but she retracted her leg.
She glanced at his bodyguard, who attempted to grasp Ishara's ankle.
"Lawrence... I don’t want the ointment."
"Then at least take your heart medication," he said, patience straining in his voice.
Her blood pressure was dropping with each successive reading, indicating her condition was worsening.
In less than 24 hours, she was set to give blood for her mother; he couldn't allow any complications.
"I don't want to... Lawrence, am I really that terrible?"
Pitying herself, Ishara suddenly looked up at the assistant, "Bring me my project file. I need to keep working! Cough, cough..."
"How can you write a proposal when you're like this?" Lawrence frowned, his voice stern.
"But... I've been accused of plagiarism, and I just can't take it. I know I'm not as skilled as Winnie by a long shot. She's determined to get both the shares and the Blanchet legacy, and I had no intention of fighting her for it. It's just that everyone's mocking me now, looking down on me, and it hurts. I never fight for anything, but this time... I suddenly want to win, not for the shares, just to prove a point! Even if I die in two years, I can't bear the thought of being labeled a plagiarist. Lawrence, can you help me? After I die, the shares will still be Winnie's. I just want to win this once... Otherwise, otherwise I... cough, cough, cough..."
She clutched at her chest, her coughing fit sending her collapsing onto the bed. The monitors beeped erratically as the doctor glanced at Lawrence. "The patient's emotional state is extremely unstable; it's affecting her blood pressure. She won't let us treat her ankle wound, and it's starting to get infected. If it continues like this till tomorrow, her cardiac output won't be sufficient for a transfusion. Try to get her to calm down."
Lawrence watched Ishara's agitated state, and a frosty expression seemed to settle over his stoic face. Finally, he spoke—
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