Chapter 2

I took out the first aid kit to clean Jason’s wound. His eyes were red as he asked me, “Dad doesn’t like me, does he?”

My hand froze. I stared at the door where John had left and said,

“No, he just likes Miss Stacy more.”

When I finished applying the ointment, I coaxed Jason to sleep and then started packing my bags.

It was ridiculous. I was the lady of the house, yet my bedroom was tucked in the farthest corner.

Stacy had once claimed she was not in good health, so John had given her the largest room.

I let out a sigh, and my resolve to leave grew firmer.

At that moment, John opened the door. He looked a little tired.

“Let’s talk. I know you can’t stand Stacy, but she really matters to me.”

I gave a cold laugh and pushed away the glass of hot water he offered.

After so many years, no one understood better than me how high a place Stacy held in his heart.

I looked up at him and gave him two choices.

“Either divorce or let her leave.”

His grip tightened around the cup. He knew I was serious. Through all these years of grievance, I had never once mentioned divorce.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed heavily and spoke solemnly.

“I don’t want a divorce. Once Stacy is discharged, I’ll send her abroad. Will that do?”

I was stunned by how decisively he said it. After all, he even escorted her to work every day.

Would he really be willing to abandon her overseas?

But John actually kept his word.

The day Stacy was discharged, he deliberately took me along to the airport to see her off.

After that, he happily took Jason and me out to dinner and bought our son many gifts.

“Jason, I’m sorry I missed your birthday. These presents make up for it twice over.”

Jason jumped for joy and kissed him repeatedly.

“Dad, I love you the most!”

John smiled as his son kissed him, then turned to look at me.

But I kept my head down and ate in silence. I kept my expression neutral.

Even though Stacy had left, our relationship was no longer the same.

John clearly sensed it too, so he tried everything to make it up to me.

A month later, while eating, he suddenly said, “I heard that your father has not been doing well lately. I’ll go back with you to pay him a visit.”

I agreed, called my parents, and set a time. They were delighted.

“It seems like John has finally grown up. You two should live well together from now on.”

For some reason, unease lingered in my heart.

Sure enough, on the day of departure, John disappeared, claiming he had some matters at the company.

I flashed a bitter smile and took Jason back alone.

When my father saw me by myself again, he collapsed in anger.

He already had a heart ailment. The doctor had warned us last time that he must not suffer any more shocks.

“Dad! Dad! Wake up! Don’t scare me!”

I cried as I called for emergency help and rushed him to the hospital. My heart pounded as if it would burst.

Minute by minute passed, until the doctor finally emerged from the operating room.

I ran to him. “How is my father?!”

He pulled off the surgical mask with relief.

“Stable for the moment, but he must undergo a heart transplant within an hour. Don’t worry, the hospital just received a donor. As soon as the payment is made, we can start surgery right away.”

My mother breathed a sigh of relief. With John’s money, paying for surgery was nothing.

I was slightly relieved and called John for help.

But after dozens of calls, none went through.

Time was slipping away. I hailed a cab to his company and ran frantically to the front desk.

“Find President White for me, it’s urgent!”

To confirm my identity, I handed her our marriage certificate.

The receptionist frowned in doubt.

“Miss, this certificate is fake. President White has gone to the airport to pick up his wife, Miss Stacy. How could you possibly be his wife?”

In that instant, my legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.

But I had no time to grieve. My father was still waiting on the operating table.

I desperately reached out to friends, but even so, I only scraped together three hundred thousand dollars. I begged the doctor in tears.

“Please save my father, I will pay the rest after the surgery!”

The doctor pulled his hand away and said regretfully, “I want to help you, but it’s already too late. That heart has already been used for someone else, and your father has run out of time.”

I stumbled back, covered my face, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Ten minutes later, my father was pushed out under a white sheet. My mother fainted on the spot.

Another ten minutes later, John finally called me. His voice was cheerful.

“Amy, my phone was off during the meeting, so I didn’t get your calls. I’m heading to your family home now. What does your father like to eat? I’ll buy some on the way.”

I stared at the phone with lifeless eyes.

“Hmm? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

My throat worked as I forced out each word.

“You don’t need to buy anything. My father is dead. He can’t eat anymore.”