Accepting Daryl’s Offer

“CHEESY! Wake up! Dammit!” Daryl shouted as he shook the woman’s body in panic.

Cheesy was barely breathing, her face deathly pale.

Without thinking, Daryl scooped her up into his arms. He bolted out of the VIP room, racing through the dark, narrow hallway of the bar. The guards stared in shock as their boss rushed past carrying a woman, shouting for his assistant.

***

Cheesy was rushed to the hospital and taken straight into the ER. Daryl paced anxiously outside the room, clenching and unclenching his fists, his usual cold demeanor replaced by visible worry.

A few minutes later, an older doctor emerged.

“How is she?” Daryl asked immediately.

“Calm down, sir. She’s just extremely exhausted and sleep-deprived. There are no serious injuries.”

Daryl stood in silence for a moment, his expression hardening again.

“So it’s just exhaustion?” he muttered under his breath, clearly skeptical.

The doctor nodded but hesitated slightly, his gaze flicking toward Daryl with a trace of uncertainty.

“She often pushes herself too hard,” the doctor added gently. “I’ve advised her to rest many times.”

He deliberately avoided mentioning Cheesy’s real condition. The woman had begged him to keep it secret—from family, from friends, from everyone.

Daryl frowned, but before he could ask more, the doctor excused himself and returned to the room.

Hours passed before Cheesy finally opened her eyes. The sterile white hospital ceiling swam into view, the blinding lights making her squint. Before she could adjust, a deep voice cut through the silence.

“So… you finally woke up.”

Her eyes shifted. Daryl stood by her bedside, his expression cold and unreadable, arms crossed, gaze locked on hers.

“Amazing,” Daryl said as he stepped closer. “You’re quite the actress, Cheesy.”

Before she could reply, he grabbed her chin roughly.

“You think I’m an idiot? That fainting spell—was it just a stunt to escape punishment?” he hissed.

Cheesy closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

“Yes... I was just acting, Mr. Daryl,” she said softly.

Daryl blinked in disbelief, as if the words didn’t make sense.

“So it’s true? You faked it?” he muttered, releasing her chin and turning his back.

“You’re disgusting,” he spat. “Don’t ever show your face to me again.”

The door slammed behind him. Cheesy smiled faintly, clutching the blanket with trembling fingers. She had no strength left. A part of her wanted to tell him the truth—but what for?

“Let him hate me,” she whispered. “It’s better this way. Knowing the truth won’t change anything… I’m going to die anyway.”

Moments later, the same doctor returned to the room. Seeing her awake, he gave her a small smile.

“You’re always so stubborn, Cheesy,” he said gently, sitting in the chair beside her bed. “You need to remember—your body can’t keep going like this. You must start chemotherapy.”

Cheesy nodded faintly. “I’ll think about it, Doctor. But thank you—for keeping my illness a secret.”

The doctor smiled kindly and jotted down a few notes. “One more thing—no more alcohol. Your condition could worsen drastically if you keep doing that.”

“I understand,” Cheesy murmured, staring blankly at the ceiling.

After he left, her gaze drifted to the small table beside her bed. Her phone vibrated. An incoming call: Auntie Shu (Ellen’s Nanny).

With weak fingers, Cheesy answered.

“Hello, Auntie.”

“Miss Cheesy… I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to tell you—Ellen’s school is demanding four months of overdue fees. If we don’t pay, she’ll be expelled.”

“I understand. I’ll send the money as soon as I can.”

The call ended.

Cheesy closed her eyes. Her heart pounded. Her trembling hands reached for the IV line and pulled it out, wincing at the sting.

The night deepened, the wind whispering through her hair as she stepped out of the hospital. In the distance, she saw a tall figure getting into a sleek black car in front of the lobby.

“MR. DARYL!!” she called out.

Daryl turned, stunned to see Cheesy running toward him in her loose hospital gown, face still pale.

Before he could say anything, she stopped in front of him, panting.

“Mr. Daryl… I accept your offer,” she said quietly, bowing her head. “Your offer to be your mistress. Two hundred million per night, right?”

Daryl fell silent. He stared at the broken woman before him—so frail she could barely stand. His eyes lingered on hers, but neither of them spoke of the real reason.

“Get in the car,” Daryl finally said.

Cheesy nodded and climbed in without question.

“Why the sudden change of heart? Didn’t you reject me just hours ago?” Daryl asked coldly.

Cheesy looked down, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. She took a deep breath and met his eyes.

“Because I realized… my dignity means nothing compared to money,” she said with a forced smile. “I think money is everything. With enough of it, I can do whatever I want. Maybe I could even build a business empire. Two hundred million a night isn’t bad. If you ask for a second round, that’s four hundred million. I’ll be rich in no time, right?” she laughed, even though her heart didn’t.

Daryl stared at her with disgust. His hands clenched tightly. He leaned in, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers.

Cheesy braced herself—thinking he was about to kiss her.

But then…