Chapter 4
My wounds ripped open, and blood seeped, staining my black dress.
Julian Vance appeared before Beatrice Vance’s tombstone with Celeste Hayes. His eyes raged with hatred, and he flung a bouquet of flowers at my face.
“Anya Reed, didn’t I warn you not to appear before my mother?”
I clutched my arm, grinding my teeth.
“I am not the daughter of a murderer!”
My mother was right there. I couldn’t let her be slandered even from the grave!
SLAP!
A stinging slap landed on my face, making my ears ring.
Celeste, in her towering heels, deliberately ground her foot into my wounds. “You old hag, aren’t you pathetic? Are you here to show off that Julian didn’t kill you, and even paid for your mom’s hospital bills?”
At her words, Julian’s fingers trembled, his eyes filled with immense guilt towards his mother.
When he looked at me, it turned into overwhelming fury.
He grabbed my hair, dragging me like a dead dog, then kicked my knee.
Before I could even stabilize my kneeling position, he grabbed my head and forcefully slammed it against the stone slab.
“Today, you’ll kneel here and kowtow, and properly apologize to my mother.”
“As for your mother, that wretched culprit, I’ll have her tortured mercilessly, making her wish she were dead!”
I clutched my forehead, laughing a desolate, bitter laugh.
“But my mother is already dead, isn’t she?”
The portrait of Beatrice Vance before me smiled gently and kindly, as if she had found solace. The sense of grievance and pain in my heart almost overflowed.
I murmured bitterly, a soft, broken whisper:
“But my mother… she’s already dead…”
She died painfully, miserably.
“What did you say?”
Julian staggered back a step. He stared at me, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
“Anya Reed, do you think lying to me like this will atone for your sins and hers?!”
“She’s right there!”
My whole body trembled. I pointed to my mother’s tombstone beside us. If Julian just looked, he would see my mother’s photo.
“Go look, Julian Vance, just look! My mother has already been killed by you. Are you satisfied?!”
Julian’s eyes widened. He stared intently at the nearby tombstone, his entire posture visibly slumping.
He reached out a trembling hand, about to push aside the flowers in front of the gravestone.
Thump!
Celeste collapsed to the ground, her face pale, hands clutching her chest, her breath shallow and weak.
“Julian, darling, my heart hurts so much…”
Julian instantly turned back in a panic, sweeping Celeste into his arms, ready to leave.
“Wait!”
I lunged forward, desperately grabbing his pant leg.
“If I pay back that ten million, you’ll sign the divorce papers, right?”
Julian’s body stiffened. He didn’t look back, only his cold voice echoed in my ears.
“Anya Reed, I will never let you or your mother off the hook.”
I smiled, tears filling my eyes.
Julian Vance, you don’t need to let us off. Because my mother and I are both leaving your world.
Just as I walked out of the cemetery, my phone rang. It was the hospital.
“Miss Reed, Mr. Vance is demanding the heart transplant surgery immediately. We need you to rush over!”
“Alright,” I gripped my phone. “But I have one condition: conceal my identity until after the surgery. Don’t let anyone know who I am.”
I lay in the hospital bed, then was wheeled into the ICU.
Julian Vance, pacing anxiously outside the door, glanced at me with a solemn expression, then rubbed his eyes and turned away, dismissing the flicker of doubt in his gaze.
It was laughable. For a moment, he actually thought the woman before him was Anya Reed.
How could that be? After all, she was such a cowardly woman, so afraid of death, she’d cry over a mere scratch…
The surgery was a success. To celebrate, he bought Celeste a thirty-million-dollar emerald jewelry set and had it displayed on the front page of the news.
In front of him, Celeste smiled and called his name, but Julian seemed distracted.
He pulled out his phone, wondering if Anya Reed had reacted at all.
Suddenly, a text message popped up.
[Bank transfer: $100,000,000.]
The sender was Anya Reed.
A terrible premonition surged within him. Julian’s pupils constricted. He quickly grabbed a passing nurse, urgently asking:
“What was the name of the person who donated the heart?”
The young nurse was startled, stammering, “I think it was… Anya Reed…”
“The poor girl was covered in injuries when she arrived.”
“I heard her mother passed away just a few days ago after failed resuscitation efforts.”
“What…”
Julian’s lips trembled slightly. He staggered a few steps, grabbing the wall for support, his eyes filled with disbelief.