Chapter 5

For the next three days, I looked after my mom while scrambling to raise money wherever I could.

Her specialty drug alone cost several thousand dollars a month. Add the monitoring fees, nursing fees, and the cost of the bed, and it was a bottomless pit.

I sold everything I could sell. All I had left was a single watch, the one my mom gave me for my thirtieth birthday.

On the morning of the fourth day, I got a call from the hospital.

"Mr. Weaver? Your mother's condition has taken a sharp turn for the worse. Get over here right now!"

When I reached the third floor of the hospital, I shoved open the door to her room and froze on the spot.

Oliver was sprawled in the chair beside the bed as if he owned the place, holding that month-old baby.

My mom was propped up against the headboard, her face as gray as a sheet of paper. Her eyes were wide, her lips were purple, and her whole body was trembling.

When Oliver saw me, he didn't bother to get up. Instead, he deliberately held the baby closer to the bed, smiling as he spoke slowly and clearly. "Look, ma'am. This is my baby with Camille. Doesn't he look just like me?"

He glanced down at the baby in his arms, then back at my mom, his voice dripping with deliberate sweetness.

"All your life, you've been hoping for a grandson, right? I made your wish come true. You should be thanking me."

My mom's lips quivered, but no words came out.

Oliver's smile widened. "Back when my mom kicked you and Adam out of the house, you two had nothing. And now, Adam is useless too. He can't even have kids."

"Tell me, isn't that what you'd call karma?"

My mom's whole body jolted violently.

The monitor suddenly let out a piercing alarm. Her heart rate jumped from eighty to a hundred and twenty, then to a hundred and fifty.

"Shut up!" I roared, my eyes blazing. I lunged at him and hauled him out of the chair.

"Get out of here! Who said you could come here? I already agreed to the divorce. How far are you going to push me?"

But Oliver didn't panic at all. His grin only grew more taunting.

"What's wrong with bringing the baby to see his grandma? She's been hoping for a grandson her whole life. I'm making her dream come true. How can you be such an ungrateful son?"

I shoved Oliver out the door and turned back to check on my mom.

In that very instant, she threw up a mouthful of blood.

Bright red blood ran down her chin and dripped onto the white sheets. It was a horrifying sight.

Her body began to convulse violently, but her eyes stayed locked on me. Her pupils were dilating.

"Doctor! Doctor!" I jabbed at the call button like a madman, then threw myself at the bedside and grabbed her hand. "Mom! Mom, look at me! I'm right here!"

Oliver stood with his back against the doorframe, the baby still in his arms, and gave a malicious laugh.

"Don't bother. Her illness was never going to get better anyway. The sooner she goes, the sooner she's out of her misery."

"Get out of the way!" I rushed over to push the door open, but he blocked it with all his weight. With his two-hundred-pound frame, he was like a wall.

The doctors couldn't get in either.

Behind me, the monitor's alarm grew fainter and fainter.

My eyes burning red, I slammed my fist into his face. After a few punches, Oliver, still holding the baby, stumbled back in disarray.

But at that exact moment, the monitor let out a long, flat tone.

The doctors worked on her for half an hour, but my mom's hand had already gone cold.

Her eyes never closed. She died with her eyes open, unable to rest in peace.

I knelt beside the bed. I didn't cry.

Oliver walked over, glanced down, and clicked his tongue in mock surprise. "What rotten luck. Of all the times she could've died, she had to pick now. I hope she didn't bring bad luck on my kid."

He patted the baby's back and walked out, humming a tune.

I knelt there, my gaze falling on the fruit basket on the nightstand. There was a fruit knife stuck in it.

I picked up the knife mechanically, stood, and rushed out after him.

Oliver let out a shriek and scrambled backward. "Help!"

"What's going on here?" Camille had appeared in the doorway at some point.

When she saw the knife in my hand, her expression changed drastically. "Adam! Have you lost your mind?"

Without a second thought, she lunged at me and grabbed my wrist with both hands, helping Oliver.

In the struggle, she twisted my wrist hard.

The tip of the knife turned around and plunged into my chest.

I looked down and saw blood welling up between my fingers.

Reflected in Camille's wide, terrified eyes, I slowly crumpled to the floor.