She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 973

That night, she dug into the bottom drawer of her vanity. Locking herself in the bathroom, she leaned into her self-destructive coping mechanisms, leaving faint red marks on her arms. Only when the physical sting eclipsed her internal agony was she finally able to breathe.

The next morning, she went to the rehearsal studio as usual to work on her compositions. Around noon, Swain practically burst through the doors, his face pale and frantic.

"Helena." He hurried over to the piano, sweating through his shirt. "How... how is Mr. Lonsdale?"

Seeing his panic, she grabbed a couple of tissues and handed them to him. "He's stable. His life isn't in danger. What's wrong?"

"His hand..." Swain stammered, his eyes wide. "Is it... ruined?"

"You heard?"

Swain was practically hyperventilating. "An insurance company contacted me today. Mr. Lonsdale had his hands insured for a hundred million dollars! And now, because I invited him to our celebration... they might hold me liable for the payout!"

Helena's expression tightened. She reached out and took his trembling hands. "Don't panic. I spoke to Morris yesterday. He explicitly told me he isn't going to hold you responsible."

"Are you sure? Then why are they coming after me?" Swain's eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a man standing on the gallows. "Helena, it's a hundred million dollars..."

Watching him unravel, a quiet sense of repulsion flickered in Helena's chest. She pushed it down and kept her voice gentle. "I'll talk to him again. Just try to calm down."

It took several minutes of coaxing before he finally stopped hyperventilating.

Glancing at the clock, Helena realized she wasn't going to get any more writing done today. She stood up. "I was planning to head to the hospital anyway. Do you want to come with me?"

Face Morris Lonsdale? Swain felt a spike of sheer terror, but he managed a jerky nod. "Yes. I need to apologize to him in person. I never meant for him to get hurt. It was an accident."

Swain bought an expensive fruit basket, and the two of them made their way to Morris's VIP suite.

Their timing couldn't have been worse. Two massive bodyguards flanked the door. Inside, Loyce and Forrest Lonsdale were already there.

Swain stood in the doorway, clutching the fruit basket, suddenly paralyzed. He had never been exposed to this level of wealth and power. The men in black suits with earpieces scanned him from head to toe, looking at him like he was a bug on the windshield.

He nervously swapped the basket to his left hand and wiped his sweaty right palm on his jeans.

Helena glanced at him, wanting to say something, but ultimately kept quiet and pushed the door open.

Morris lay in the hospital bed. His facial bandages had been changed, leaving only his dark eyes and pale lips exposed. His right arm was still elevated in a brace, though the gauze was slightly thinner today, revealing the faint outline of his fingers.

"My brother forgiving you is his business," Loyce said coolly. "But I was the one who told the insurance company to track you down. A hundred million dollars isn't pocket change. Someone has to take the fall for this."

Swain's face turned completely ashen.

"Ms. Lonsdale, I..." His lips trembled. "I can't afford that. I'm just a lighting technician. I don't even have a million dollars to my name, let alone a hundred. Is there... is there any other way? I'll work my fingers to the bone for you. I'll do whatever it takes..."

"Work your fingers to the bone?" Loyce tilted her head, a lethal half-smile curving her lips. The sight of it sent a cold sweat racing down Swain's spine. "Do you honestly think your labor is worth a hundred million dollars?"

Swain opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He turned to Helena, looking at her the way a drowning man looks at a life raft.

Helena gripped the strap of her purse so hard her knuckles ached.

She wanted to interject, to remind them that Morris had promised not to pursue it. But Loyce was sitting right there, and she was far more ruthless than Helena had anticipated.

And technically, Loyce wasn't wrong. Morris could wave it off, but the insurance company wouldn't. The policy explicitly targeted the "liable party" responsible for the incident.

Helena bit her lip. "Ms. Lonsdale, regarding this..."