Chapter 8 Karma Served

Abigail watched Robert disappear around the corner, then pressed hard on the wound on her hand.

She owed him another favor.

She took a deep breath, turned, and walked into the stairwell, hurrying downstairs.

Passing a trash can on the first floor, she picked up a discarded bouquet and stood at the entrance, pretending to look at the floor directory.

Finnian had just gotten out of his car when he saw Abigail standing at the entrance, holding flowers with a troubled look on her face.

"Abigail?" Finnian frowned. "Didn't I tell you to go home first?"

"Finnian." Abigail turned her head. "I'm really worried about Sandra, but I forgot which room she's in."

Finnian glanced at the slightly wilted roses, then patted her shoulder. His tone was softer than usual. "So you finally care about your sister."

Abigail obediently lowered her head without responding.

Finnian withdrew his hand, his tone turning serious. "Abigail, you and Sandra are both daughters of the Rodriguez family. No daughter of this family can have any stain on her reputation."

"I won't allow anything that tarnishes the family name to happen. So whatever the truth is about Sandra falling into the water, we won't pursue it any further."

He paused. "As for that oxygen tank you mentioned, just pretend you never saw it."

Abigail's fingers pressed against the rose's thorns. The pain kept her alert.

Her voice was as obedient as a tamed cat's. "I understand, Finnian."

Finnian grunted and turned toward the elevator.

Abigail followed behind him, expressionless.

Finnian's words just now proved he had investigated. He probably already knew the truth about Sandra faking her death.

But so what? The Rodriguez family's reputation was more important than the truth.

Sandra's reputation was more important than Abigail's innocence. All Abigail needed to do was keep her mouth shut.

In her past life, she hadn't understood this. She thought Finnian was the most fair, thought that as long as she presented the evidence, he would give her justice.

She was wrong.

The rose thorn pierced under her nail. Abigail felt more pain, but she also grew more clear-headed.

The elevator doors opened. The hallway was quiet.

Abigail held the flowers and followed Finnian toward Sandra's room.

Finnian didn't knock. He pushed the door open directly.

The scene in the room was like someone had hit pause.

Ethan stood by the bed, his shirt open, his belt not yet fastened.

His hair was messy. There were lipstick marks on his face that hadn't been wiped clean.

The blanket on the bed was bunched up high. Sandra was curled up inside it, only the top of her head showing.

The air was thick with an intimate smell.

Finnian's footsteps stopped at the doorway.

Abigail peeked out from behind him, her face showing just the right amount of confusion. "Ethan? You came to see Sandra too?"

Ethan cleared his throat, buttoning his shirt as he spoke. "Sandra just said she was having trouble breathing, so I was giving her CPR. It was an emergency."

"You know CPR? That's amazing." Abigail walked in holding the flowers, her eyes full of gratitude. "It's all my fault for not knowing how to swim and not being able to rescue Sandra in time. And now you have to come take care of her. I'm so sorry."

She linked her arm through Ethan's, pressing her body tightly against him.

Ethan's body stiffened.

He could feel Abigail's chest pressing against his arm. If he looked down, he could see her beautiful face.

Thinking about how they had almost slept together today, his penis began to stiffen involuntarily.

His face flushed red. With Finnian present, he could only scold coldly, "Abigail, let go first. What does this look like?"

"I won't." Abigail pouted. "I'm holding onto my fiancé. What's wrong with that?"

On the bed, Sandra gripped the blanket tightly, her nails digging into her palms.

She wanted to call Ethan's name, wanted him to leave quickly, but she didn't dare make a sound.

Under the blanket, she wasn't wearing anything.

Finnian's gaze moved back and forth between Ethan and Abigail, but he said nothing.

Abigail leaned on Ethan's shoulder, her fingers lightly drawing circles on the inside of his arm. "Ethan, you're so good to my sister. I'll definitely repay you properly."

Ethan's breathing became unsteady.

Not because of Abigail's words, but because his penis started to itch. Then he began to struggle for air.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt like it was closing. Only a little air could get through.

His face quickly turned red, then purple.

Ethan suddenly pushed Abigail away, staggering back two steps. One hand clutched his throat, the other gripped the bed rail. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor.

A "heh heh" sound came from his throat. His eyes began to lose focus.

"Ethan? Ethan, what's wrong?" Abigail crouched down, shaking his shoulders hard. "Don't scare me!"

On the bed, Sandra's pupils contracted sharply. She saw the red rash on Ethan's body.

Rash, difficulty breathing, throat swelling—it was an allergic reaction.

Ethan was allergic to latex. They always used polyurethane condoms.

Sandra thought of something and whipped her head toward the nightstand.

The box of condoms sat right next to the lamp. She hadn't paid attention to the material earlier, but now she saw clearly—latex.

Her mind exploded. This kind of allergy could kill.

Sandra's fingers gripped the blanket tightly. She wanted to call for a nurse, call for a doctor, wanted to jump out of bed to help him—but she wasn't wearing any clothes.

Under the blanket, she was completely naked. She was pinned to this bed.

Ethan's body began to convulse.

His face had already changed from red to purple. His lips were so swollen they couldn't close. Saliva mixed with blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were bloodshot, his eyeballs bulging, his pupils starting to lose focus.

Abigail crouched in front of him, watching his face change color bit by bit. That feeling came again.

Something exploded in her chest. A tingling pleasure shot up from the base of her spine, spreading to all her limbs.

Ethan dropped to his knees before her, a dying stray. His face was bloated beyond recognition. He struggled just to breathe.

Abigail gasped as an orgasmic sensation washed over her.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She had to cry.

"Ethan, wake up! Don't scare me!" Abigail grabbed Ethan's collar hard, watching him suffocate as waves of pleasure kept coming.

Slap!

She struck Ethan across the face. "Don't die. I'm begging you. Wake up!"

Slap! The second blow was harder.

Then the third, the fourth.

Her palm struck Ethan's swollen face, making crisp slapping sounds.

Watching his face swell more and more, Abigail didn't stop. Each hit gave her extreme pleasure.

Her tears fell. Her voice trembled. "Open your eyes and look at me! Ethan! Do you hear me?"

Another slap.

Ethan's head was knocked to the side. A trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Abigail's whole body trembled, her hands not stopping. She looked like someone frantically trying to save the man before her.

But only she knew she was trembling because she could barely suppress the curve of her lips.

This felt so fucking good.

"That's enough!" Sandra couldn't hold back any longer and shouted in rage.