Karma Doesn’t Sleep: The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 177

Amelia had just reached the elevator when a young waitress hurried up to her.

“Excuse me, are you Ms. Sadinton?”

Amelia looked a little confused. “I’m Amelia. Is something wrong?”

The waitress, relieved, nodded quickly. “Ms. Sadinton, I heard you hurt your hand here at the hotel. The staff lounge is right next door. If you don’t mind coming with me, there’s a first aid kit inside. I can help you take care of it.”

Amelia paused, glancing down at her scraped palm.

“Did your manager tell you to do this?”

The waitress hesitated, about to deny it. But then she remembered the instructions from the private room and bit back her words.

“Yes. If I don’t help you, I’ll get my pay docked.”

Amelia never liked to trouble others. She almost refused—after all, it was just a scrape, nothing major. She could handle it herself when she got home. But hearing that the waitress might lose money over it made her change her mind.

“Okay, but please make it quick. I’m in a hurry.”

“Of course.”

The waitress looked relieved, leading Amelia into the nearby staff lounge. She grabbed the first aid kit and carefully cleaned and bandaged Amelia’s hand.

“All done, Ms. Sadinton.”

Amelia flexed her fingers. The sharp sting from before had faded to a dull ache.

“Thank you.”

Growing up, Amelia had gotten used to taking care of herself. She’d been bullied at school, and with no parents to step in for her—and not wanting to make her grandpa worry—she learned to keep quiet about her injuries. She always told herself it didn’t hurt, that it was fine.

Maybe she’d told herself that so many times, after a while she really stopped being afraid of pain.

He just grinned, all smug. “See? Was that so hard?”

She’d wanted to smack him with her textbook right then and there.

“Ms. Sadinton?” The waitress’s voice snapped Amelia out of it.

“Thanks again.” Amelia gave her a grateful smile and headed for the door.

Just around the corner, a tall, lean man stepped into the hallway, walking at an easy pace.

“Mr. Packman,” the waitress said, stopping in front of Ryan.

Up close, his looks were almost dizzying. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, her cheeks burning as she bowed her head and gave her report. “Ms. Sadinton’s injury has been taken care of. It’s not serious, just a scrape. It’ll sting for a bit, but there won’t be a scar.”

Ryan watched the direction Amelia had gone, silent for a moment. Then he finally looked away, his voice quiet. “Thank you. Good work.”