Chapter 5

On the day of the Olympiad, Lily came along too.

Even though she couldn't beat me, the Vance family had used their connections to get her an alternate spot.

In the van, she kept staring at my backpack.

My admission ticket and ID card were in there.

When we arrived at the test center, Lily suddenly clutched her stomach and crouched down.

"Oh my god, it hurts... my stomach hurts so bad..."

The Vance family driver panicked and immediately got out of the car to help her.

In the chaos, I felt someone bump into me.

By the time I realized what had happened, my backpack zipper was halfway open.

My admission ticket was gone.

Lily had a tiny, barely visible smirk on her face as the driver helped her walk toward the medical tent.

"Hazel, go inside. Don't worry about me."

A classic distraction and theft.

If this had been the old me, I would have panicked.

But I only gave her a cold look, turned around, and walked straight to the registration office.

"Excuse me, I lost my physical ticket and my ID card."

The proctor frowned. "Then you can't enter the hall."

"But I remember my candidate number."

"And I have my digital ID saved on my phone."

In this digital age, Lily’s petty tricks were laughably outdated.

Besides, Ethan had already warned me.

Last night, he had sent me a message on Snapchat: Lily is up to something. Keep your eyes open.

I successfully entered the exam room.

The moment the exam papers were handed out, the entire world went silent.

Those numbers and symbols weren't boring formulas to me. They were the secret codes to my survival.

Every question I solved felt like another beat of my heart.

The final question was incredibly difficult. It involved advanced college-level topology.

I bit down on the end of my pen, a sharp, excruciating pain blooming in my head. It felt like a drill was boring into my brain.

Cold sweat poured down my forehead, dripping onto the paper.

I couldn't collapse.

Not here. Not now.

I pinched my thigh hard, using the physical pain to force my mind to stay conscious.

I got it.

Just as I wrote down the final formula, the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the exam.

Walking out of the building, I saw Arthur and Eleanor anxiously crowding around Lily.

Lily had tears in her eyes. "Mom, Dad... I couldn't solve the last two questions... I don't think I'll win any awards."

Eleanor hugged her tightly. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's the effort that counts. You weren't feeling well anyway."

Seeing me walk out, Arthur’s face instantly darkened.

"You actually have the nerve to walk out of there? You lost your admission ticket on purpose, didn't you? You were just scared of failing and getting caught!"

Lily acted surprised. "Hazel, you got in? How did you get in without a ticket?"

I had no energy left to waste on them.

"Get that one million dollars ready."

The moment those words left my mouth, I felt a rush of warm liquid pouring out of my nose.

It wouldn't stop.

The bright red blood dripped onto my white school uniform. My vision began to blur, and the world started to spin.

"Stop acting! Do you think a little nosebleed is going to make us feel sorry for you?" Arthur took a step back in disgust, terrified of getting blood on his expensive suit.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed straight onto the hard concrete.

As I fell, the contents of my backpack spilled everywhere.

Along with my pencil case, a thick black ledger rolled out.

Lily’s sharp eyes caught it, and she quickly snatched it up.

"What is this? This is why you keep demanding money from us, isn't it?"

She opened the first page and read out loud in a dramatic voice:

"September 1st: Received $100,000. Expenses: Chemotherapy deposit $20,000, targeted cancer drugs $80,000..."

Lily’s voice suddenly died in her throat.

Arthur snatched the ledger from her hands.

"What is this trash? You made up a fake ledger just to scam us for more money?"

He furiously flipped the pages, and a dozen medical receipts and diagnosis sheets fluttered out of the book.

My latest medical report, printed just a week ago, landed right next to his leather shoe.

The red hospital stamp on the paper read:

[Patient: Hazel Vance. Diagnosis: Glioblastoma, Stage IV. Immediate surgical intervention recommended. Life expectancy without surgery: Less than three months.]

The air around us seemed to freeze solid.

I lay on the cold concrete floor, my consciousness slipping away.

The last thing I saw was Ethan frantically pushing through the crowd, running toward me like a madman.

And Arthur’s face, which had turned completely, horrifyingly pale.