The Psychotic Girl’s Revenge

Enrico suddenly flung his arm, sending the entire syringe flying across the room. The numbers on the nearby monitors began to spike, rising higher and higher.

“Hold him down!” Dr. Clinton shouted, his face turning pale at the sight.

The medical staff, who had been stunned by Paige’s sudden appearance, finally snapped out of it and rushed to restrain Enrico. One man pressed down hard on Enrico’s hand, inadvertently pressing on his ring finger, which was missing a nail.

Enrico winced in pain, his resistance becoming even more intense.

“Be gentle!” Paige snapped at the man, glaring at him.

Startled by her fierce gaze, the man softened his grip. How could a death row inmate from the slums possess such an intimidating look?

Paige knelt by the bed, picking up a towel to wipe Enrico’s sweat, when she heard him call her name.

“Paige, Paige…”

His voice was filled with desperation, repeating her name over and over.

“I’m here, Enrico. I’m here,” Paige responded, dropping the towel and reaching out to grasp his hand, her fingers gently pressing into his palm.

As soon as she spoke, Enrico’s agitation seemed to ease instantly. He stopped thrashing, though he gripped her hand so tightly it was as if he wanted to break it.

Seeing this, Dr. Clinton, who had been sweating profusely, finally breathed a sigh of relief. He gestured for Paige to keep talking, realizing she could calm Enrico down.

Paige, utterly exhausted, could barely squat properly anymore. She ended up kneeling on the floor, holding Enrico’s hand, and leaned close to his ear to speak. But before she could, she heard him whisper, “Wait for me.”

Her expression froze; did he still think he was on that refugee ship?

“Hang in there, I beg you. I’ll help you with whatever you want, just please, I beg you, I’ll help you rebuild, I beg you…” Enrico gripped her hand tightly, speaking incoherently, pleading over and over.

So desperately.

“I didn’t die, Enrico. I’m alive because of you,” Paige whispered into his ear, her voice trembling uncontrollably.

“Please, Paige, please…” he continued to plead, his words incoherent, but the desperation in his voice was clear. The one phrase she could hear most clearly was his plea. He begged her not to die, to stay alive, to wait for him to return.

“Enrico, listen to me. You’re not on that refugee ship anymore; you’re back now,” she told him, repeating over and over that he was safe now.

Whether it was her words that helped or the emergency medication from Dr. Clinton, Enrico’s condition gradually stabilized.

The medical team eventually left the room.

Enrico lay quietly in the bed.

Paige sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, listening to the sounds of the machines in the room for a long, long time.

She remembered an old saying from the slums: the dreams that people fall into most easily are not the happy ones, but the terrifying ones. The deeper the fear, the deeper they sink.

No one knew exactly what Enrico had experienced over the past twenty hours, but she imagined it must have been a despair so deep that it left a mark on his very soul, haunting him even in his dreams.

She leaned back, resting her head against Enrico’s arm, and finally allowed herself to sleep, utterly exhausted.

When Paige woke up, Enrico was still unconscious.

She called Dr. Clinton to stay with him and then walked out of the villa.

After what had happened, none of the guards who knew a bit about the situation dared to stop Paige. Whether she was coming or going, no one said a word.

Paige walked on the soft, wet ground, passing through a large bamboo forest until she reached a small stream in front of the mountain. The water had smoothed the stones within the stream, and the splashes it created were clean and beautiful.

She stood in front of a stone, pressing her hand against her shoulder, which ached faintly from the wind. “Kevin,” she called out calmly.

At her words, a tall figure emerged from behind a nearby tree.

The man was dressed in a fitted outfit, appearing much slimmer than he did on screen. He walked towards her slowly, pulling down the hat from his head to reveal a handsome face. He smiled as he looked at her. “I knew you would figure out I was still here.”

As Kevin stepped over the stone in front of him, his leg stiffened noticeably, moving awkwardly.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Years ago, during a fierce battle, his left leg had been brutally cut off. He had drifted to Wind Island, where Paige had saved his life. Afterward, he had been fitted with a prosthetic leg, which he had adapted to quite well.

Paige noticed his leg but made no comment, neither mocking nor pitying him. She simply gave him a faint smile. “You’re walking better and better.”

Her smile was pale.

“I’ve been practicing a lot,” Kevin replied, standing before her and looking deeply into her eyes, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. After a long moment, he restrained his smile and said with concern, “You’ve suffered.”

“I’m alive; that’s what matters,” Paige said, showing little concern for herself.

“Then let’s go. It’s getting late, and my car is parked a bit far away. I’ll carry you there,” Kevin offered, extending his hand towards her. “If your injuries aren’t too serious, we should leave immediately. By this time tomorrow, we could be watching the sunset at the border.”

Paige remained still, and Kevin noticed something was wrong. His expression turned serious.

She took out a stack of medical reports from behind her and handed them to him. Kevin’s face darkened as he took the reports and began to read. It was Enrico’s medical report.

It detailed how he had been severely beaten, with 70% of his body covered in varying degrees of bruising. His ring finger was missing a nail, two of his ribs were broken, and there were obvious fractures in his lower leg, among other injuries…

Kevin flipped through two pages before stopping, raising his eyes in shock to look at Paige. “How could Rafael be so bold as to beat his own patron like this?”

“It wasn’t Rafael,” Paige shook her head. “Rafael and Jaden disrupted international traffic, so he had to return by refugee ship.”

Kevin was deeply shaken by this revelation. Recalling the scene in front of Gangnam Hall, he couldn’t help but say, “No wonder he was dressed so strangely and looked so bad. So, he’s been good to you, I guess.”

Good to her, indeed.

After a moment, Kevin understood what she was implying and looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean by showing me this?”

“I’m not leaving. You should go back to the border,” Paige said directly, explaining the peace deal she had struck with Enrico and Rafael in just a few words.

“So, you’re going to live out the rest of your life in this private villa, under the name of a dead woman?” Kevin asked, incredulous. “You already lost three years of your freedom in the slums, and now you’re going to give up your entire life?”

“This isn’t about giving up freedom; it’s about having no other choice. Just being alive is already a struggle for me,” Paige said, lowering her gaze to her wrist, which was bandaged thickly by Dr. Clinton.

“How can you say you have no other choice? You can come back to the border with me and start over,” Kevin urged, almost desperately. “No one knew your identity back then, and the Capital offers more opportunities. But now, it’s different. If you stay in the Capital, you’ll be like a caged bird, always hidden from sight, with Jeremy and the other conglomerates constantly watching for any mistake.”

“The border is different. It’s a hundred thousand miles away from the Capital. Whether you’re making money or building your organization, everything will be easier there,” Kevin continued to persuade her. “One day, when you’re strong enough, you can return to the Capital, take down those who wronged you, and live freely. Isn’t that better than hiding here until you die?”