Chapter 4

That familiar mockery, readable only by me, flashed briefly across his face and vanished.

That night, Amber scolded me.

"I talked with Mr. Wilshere all night. He's a pitiful single father. You shouldn't treat him like that!"

The chat was flooded with a sea of [ungrateful son].

I didn't retort.

I stood up.

"Do you really want me to obey everything he says?"

She nodded.

"Fine."

I walked into the kitchen, took out the BBQ ribs my father prepared, and ate a piece.

Shortly after, red hives began breaking out all over my arms.

I clutched my throat, unable to utter a single word.

"Walt!"

I pointed frantically at my windpipe. It was swelling up; no air could get through.

When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital ward.

Amber stared at the lab results in utter disbelief.

"Celery? You're allergic to celery, and there was celery mixed into the ribs?"

"I don't even like BBQ ribs in the first place."

Amber froze. "But didn't Mr. Wilshere say you've loved them since you were a kid..."

Seeing that I remained silent, she paused. "And the celery... maybe Mr. Wilshere accidentally put it in by mistake?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

Choked for words, she turned around and walked out the door.

I was struck by sudden chest pain and shortness of breath.

I quickly looked up.

Noticing the fluid dripping from the IV bag, I frantically pressed the call button.

No sound came out.

A dark silhouette flashed past the window.

I pressed the button several more times with all my might. The call panel shattered completely.

As breathing grew difficult once more, I tumbled off the bed, completely drained of strength.

"Walt!"

The door was kicked open. Amber's voice was laced with frantic panic.

It turned out that cyanide had been injected into my IV drip.

It took three days and three nights of emergency resuscitation to pull me back from the brink of death.

My father knelt by my hospital bed, weeping so hard his eyes were swollen like walnuts.

The doctor patted my shoulder.

"Your father knelt beside your bed praying for three days straight."

I forced myself up with great effort.

Bam! A heavy fist smashed straight into my father's face.

We were pulled apart with great difficulty.

My father's grief-stricken excuses echoed down the entire hospital hallway.

I covered my ears, refusing to listen.

"You suspect Mr. Wilshere poisoned you?"

Amber found it incredulous.

"It wasn't him," I said coldly. "But he is inextricably linked to it."

After Amber finished smoking a cigarette, she looked completely worn out.

"Fine. I'll trust you one last time."

Because she had spent her days secretly filming a pitiful father, she was now being swarmed and attacked by countless internet trolls.

This month-long filming process had nearly broken her spirit.

I took my father to court once more.

Amber acted as my witness, testifying that she had indeed seen someone lurking outside my hospital room while she was smoking.

All the evidence pointed toward my father.

Yet, with reddened eyes, he pulled out certificate after certificate.

He showed proof of the blood he had donated for me, the times he had kneeled down to beg his wealthy employers for medical loans, and the hours he had spent kneeling beside my hospital bed praying for divine intervention.

"If I really wanted to kill you, why would I keep sacrificing myself for you?"

On his arms were densely packed needle marks, traces of him drawing blood for my transfusions.

Doctors stepped forward to testify as well, confirming that the volume of blood my father had donated far exceeded safe medical limits.

Amber fell silent.

She looked at me and nodded, acknowledging that what my father said was true.

In the end, I lost the lawsuit again.

Only this time, my father counter-sued me, filing for a restraining order against me.

Netizens signed joint petitions in support of him. Having watched Amber's live-streams, they had already formed a firm judgment about what kind of person my father was.

Seeing him sacrifice everything for me time and again only to receive a heartless response in return, they grew to utterly despise me.