Chapter 4

The mansion was brightly lit and buzzing with life. It looked like they were hosting a massive party.

Not only were Ethan and his wife there, but Tyler and Chloe were there too.

They were clinking glasses in the living room, their laughter echoing painfully in my ears.

“Ethan, you landed another massive contract! That's insane!” Tyler said, throwing an arm around Ethan’s shoulder.

Chloe smirked beside them, playfully whining,

“Ethan! The commission on this must be close to seven figures, right? You have to buy me that Chanel jacket I've been drooling over for months!”

Ethan, sitting at the head of the table, beamed with pride.

“Sure, sure, I’ll buy it for you.”

“Honestly, you two aren't exactly short on cash either. One just bought a limited-edition sports car, and the other got a rare designer bag!”

“But hey, since I'm the oldest, I guess I have to spoil you guys.”

The siblings burst into laughter, their warm, joyous family scene making it seem as if my emergency hospitalization earlier that day had never even happened.

Their words felt like poisoned needles stabbing deep into my chest, making it hard to breathe.

My entire body trembled uncontrollably. I had to lean against the cold exterior wall just to keep from collapsing.

During my hardest years, when I worked three jobs and slept only two hours a day, I hadn't shed a single tear.

But at this very moment, my tears cascaded down my cheeks, completely out of control.

Why did my children treat me like this?

Did they really want to watch me die?

Before I could push the door open to confront them, Chloe’s voice floated out again.

“By the way, what are we going to do about Mom’s medical bills? If we just ignore her, will she make a scene at our workplaces?”

Hearing this, Tyler actually burst out laughing.

“Oh, please. Mom is such a pushover. At worst, she’ll just hide in her room and cry. Make a scene at our offices? Does she even have the guts?”

“Even if she did, she wouldn't have the heart to do it. We are the children she raised with her own hands!”

As soon as he finished, Ethan cleared his throat and said coldly,

“If you ask me, she’s faking it! She just wants to scam us out of our money.”

“We’ve never heard her complain about her health, and suddenly she has terminal cancer? I don't buy it for a second.”

The other two immediately agreed.

“Exactly! Ethan always sees right through things. It has to be fake!”

I don't remember how I left that place. I only remember collapsing right in the middle of a crosswalk after coughing up another massive mouthful of blood.

A kind passerby rushed me to the hospital. The moment the nurse saw me, she sounded the alarm immediately.

“Oh my god! This patient has collapsed for the second time in a short period! Her chances of survival are practically zero!”

“We need to resuscitate her immediately!”

The medical team rushed me back into the ICU. They hooked me up to the machines and began CPR again.

First attempt—failed.

Second attempt—failed.

Third attempt—still failed.

No matter how many words of encouragement the nurse whispered, and no matter how many doses of epinephrine the doctor injected, my heart rate remained a flat, unwavering zero.

After thirty minutes, the doctor finally stopped.

“Call it. Let's not waste any more time.”

“The patient has lost all will to live. Any further resuscitation is futile.”

The hospital immediately called the emergency contact list.

Before the staff could even speak, an annoyed, angry voice barked from the other end of the line.

“How many times do I have to tell you! I am not paying those bills! If you want money, go ask my mother! Stop harassing me!”

Suppressing her rage, the medical staff member said slowly and clearly,

“Your mother... failed to respond to emergency treatment. She has passed away.”