Chapter 3

3

As I slipped away, I saw flashes of my past.

Five years old, my mom took me to the carnival. I was snatched away, sold for a thousand bucks.

Eight years old, I ran away, ended up in an orphanage, finally had a full meal.

Ten years old, my foster mom adopted me. She couldn't have kids of her own and treated me like I was hers. I finally had a home.

Fifteen years old, my birth parents found me, paid my foster mom, and took me back.

I knew my foster mom was sick, needed the money. I didn't complain.

The Hayes family already had Sarah.

My mother told me they adopted her to comfort themselves after losing me.

But their favoritism showed me I was the outsider.

When Peter had his accident, they dropped the pretense of fairness and ordered me to marry him in Sarah's place.

I refused. They threatened to withhold the money for my foster mom's treatment.

I agreed to the marriage and signed papers cutting ties with the Hayes family.

On my wedding day, seeing Peter broken, my anger faded.

Maybe it was my own past, but I felt sorry for him, orphaned and injured. I tried to connect with him.

With my care, he recovered in two years.

But his eyes still tired easily.

So I believed him when he asked for my cornea.

He just wanted to use me and our baby.

I lost the baby. I lost any love I had for Peter.

My foster mom's surgery was over. She was in ICU.

The doctor handed me the bill. Her funds were gone.

I looked at my four-digit bank balance. My heart sank.

I asked Dr. Zhao to look after her and walked out, phone in hand.

He stopped me. "It's no use."

"What?" I stared blankly.

His eyes softened with pity. "Your mother… she might not make it. There's no point adding more money to her account."

It was like a thunderclap. I couldn't process it.

No point.

Patrick heard about my mom from the doctor.

After a long pause, he said: "They say she has maybe seven days. That's when Peter's surgery is scheduled. Stay until then. I'll ensure your mother has the best care possible for those seven days, and I'll take care of the arrangements afterward."

A practical transaction. How could I refuse?

After I agreed, he was silent again.

"I'm sorry, but to guarantee Peter's surgery goes smoothly, I have to eliminate all risks."

"I understand. No need to explain."

He sent a car to take me home.

As soon as I walked in, I went on high alert.

Sarah was with Peter, so he wouldn't be back for a while. I could relax, just a little.

Then the front door was kicked open.

Peter's voice echoed before he even stepped inside: "Summer! Get your ass down here!"