Chapter 4

My hand jerked, and the name I'd just signed smeared into an illegible mess.

The doctor pulled away the ruined transfer confirmation form and handed me a new one, but I couldn't bring myself to sign it.

As I watched my son's breathing grow weaker and weaker on the hospital bed, I was still clutching the transfer form, frozen, and the doctor's brows knitted together at once.

"Ms. James, what is the matter with you? Your son is about to die. Why won't you sign the transfer papers? What are you dawdling for?"

My palms were already damp with sweat, and I reflexively grasped for an excuse.

"I can't make this decision on my own. I need to call my ex-husband and ask him."

I made a show of standing up, but my mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan.

I never expected my ex-husband and Grandma Abbott to suddenly push open the hospital room door and walk in.

"No need. We're already here."

"Philippa! What's the matter with you? Austin is the only heir of the Perry family!"

"He had an accident and needs to be transferred for treatment, and you keep refusing to sign. Are you trying to kill him?"

The two of them were furious, and my ex-husband snatched the transfer confirmation form right out of my hand and quickly scrawled his own name on it.

My son was rushed into the ambulance, and my ex-husband and Grandma Abbott couldn't wait to climb in after him.

The two of them kept shouting that they were taking custody of my son back.

Of course I refused, and seeing that the ambulance was about to leave, I had no choice but to jump in too.

I figured that with both my ex-husband and Grandma Abbott in the car, even if someone really did mean me harm, they wouldn't dare grab me in front of everyone.

Besides, my son's life was still hanging in the balance, and as his mother, I couldn't abandon him just to save myself.

But just as the vehicle started moving, my son, who had been unconscious, suddenly hooked his little finger around my hand. I was overjoyed and about to speak, but he gently shook his head at me, and then quietly traced two words into my palm.

Run.

I didn't understand, but at that same moment my phone rang in my pocket.

It was another message from the auctioneer.

Everything is arranged. This time I've lined up two helpers. The living Buddha absolutely won't get away.

I instinctively looked at my ex-husband and Grandma Abbott in front of me, hardly able to believe it.

My ex-husband and I had divorced ten years ago, but that was because we didn't get along. I still trusted his character.

As for Grandma Abbott, as long as it wasn't about my son, she had always respected me. How could she possibly help someone sell me off?

Still unwilling to accept it, I asked the auctioneer.

How can you be so sure she won't run?

The auctioneer replied quickly.

The people I lined up are the ones she trusts most. If she can still get away from them, I won't charge you a cent for this job.

The ones she trusts most.

Those words hit their mark. Without another moment's hesitation, I jumped out of the car and ran toward the most crowded spot I could find.

Only after I'd run into the restroom and bolted the door did I shakily pull out my phone to call the police.

In that enclosed space, I was like a frightened bird, praying over and over for the police to hurry.

Soon, footsteps sounded outside the door.

Every hair on my body stood on end, but thankfully the bolted door kept whoever it was outside.

Grandma Abbott was standing right on the other side of that one door, pounding on it hard.

"Philippa! Open the door! I've come to save you!"

"I found a strange auction website on my son Lionel's phone, and it has your photo on it!"