The year my son was diagnosed with a critical illness and faced astronomical medical bills. My husband, Arthur, was paralyzed in a horrific car crash and lost his job. I divorced him. I abandoned them both, taking only our healthy six-year-old daughter with me. Five years later, my genius son graduated from college and was exceptionally admitted to MIT as a researcher. Arthur, now a self-made billionaire, accompanied him to an academic seminar. In the grand conference hall, a professor smiled and asked: "With such an incredible achievement today, who do you wish could see you the most?" My seventeen-year-old son, his expression cold and mature far beyond his years, replied: "My disgusting so-called biological mother, and her ungrateful parasite of a daughter." Arthur let out a soft, mocking laugh. His eyes mirrored the same poorly concealed hatred. Until later that night, when they received a piggy bank that belonged to my daughter. The first note inside was written in a child’s messy, uneven handwriting: "Mommy says when the piggy bank is full, Anna can leave the hospital." The very last note was written in the elegant handwriting Arthur knew best: "Goodbye. I’m going to keep my Anna company now." 1 The night they received the piggy bank. Arthur and his son, Leo, had just walked out of the conference hall. On his left ring finger, the wedding band he shared with me had been removed, replaced by a new, brilliant diamond ring. The young woman holding his arm was likely his new wife. A self-made billionaire and a seventeen-year-old prodigy—they were the center of attention wherever they went. It took a long time for the media cameras and the crowd of eager networkers trailing behind them to finally disperse. Arthur stepped away from the crowd, standing under a streetlight, and lowered his head to light a cigarette. From the shadows not far away, a young girl in her early twenties hesitated for a long time before finally running over. She carefully held out a piggy bank to him. "Are you... Mr. Arthur Sterling?" Through the smoke, Arthur looked at the girl, then down at the piggy bank in her hands. His expression instantly turned freezing cold. Taped to the piggy bank was a sticky note with my handwriting: "Countdown to Anna's Discharge." Separated by the river of five long years, the paper had already started to yellow. After a brief, stunned pause, Arthur let out a scoff. "Whatever trick Chloe is playing this time, just say it straight." Leo, the usually gentle and polite teenager, also showed a look of pure disgust. "She disappeared for five years. I thought she was actually going to hide in her hole forever." The young girl’s eyes turned red, her voice trembling. "They... they both passed away years ago." "I’ve been searching so hard these past few years to find the 'Arthur' and 'Leo' they wrote about. It wasn't until today, seeing you on the news, that I finally found you." Arthur laughed out loud. Perhaps the cigarette smoke caught in his throat, making his eyes water as he laughed. "Oh, so they tragically passed away five years ago? "What an unspeakable, heartbreaking tragedy. "Tell me, exactly how large of a check do Leo and I need to write to express our profound grief?" The girl looked at them in sheer disbelief. In the letters written by me and my daughter, Anna, this father and son were always described as the gentlest, most caring people in the world. She then looked at the woman standing beside Arthur. This was what they had become. Her eyes blazed with grief and anger. She snatched the piggy bank back, hugging it tightly to her chest. "If you don't want it, then forget it! "I will bury it with their ashes." Arthur's eyes were filled with sarcasm. He reached out and snatched the piggy bank back from her. His voice was mocking: "Since the play has already been rehearsed so perfectly, wouldn't it be a shame if the audience didn't watch it?" As he spoke, he pulled out the first folded letter from inside the piggy bank. Unfolding it, he read the childish handwriting with an expressionless face. 2 "December 18th. "Going to a new hospital in a new city. "Mommy says when the piggy bank is full, Anna can leave the hospital. "This is my first time writing a diary. Good thing the smartest big brother in the whole wide world taught me how to spell and write. "Good thing Anna is the one who is sick, not the smartest big brother in the whole wide world!" It was a few short sentences, full of spelling errors and backward letters. Printed below the text was a photograph. It was six-year-old Anna sitting on an Amtrak train, both fists raised in the air, striking a superhero pose. Her small face was beginning to show signs of pallor, but her eyes were curved into happy crescents from her bright smile. On the back of the paper was the note I had written while hiding in the hospital stairwell. ... Anna went to the hospital because of a severe nosebleed. Leo held her, tears streaming down his face. He loved his little sister more than anything; he was so anxious he literally threw up. So, he had his blood drawn for testing alongside Anna. When the results came back, Anna was fine. But Leo... Leo was diagnosed with leukemia. His only hope was a bone marrow transplant. Even if we could find a matching donor, the surgery and post-op care would cost at least half a million dollars. We didn't have anywhere near that kind of money. Leo told us he didn't want the treatment. Anna cried, hugging his arm tightly. Arthur suffered a total mental breakdown. He hid it from me and went out to beg everyone he knew for loans, getting the door slammed in his face time and time again. Driving home in a torrential downpour, exhausted and delirious, he got into a horrific car accident. After an all-night emergency surgery, he was left with severe trauma to his organs and spine. He was paralyzed in a hospital bed, unable to even stand. Just as I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe, the doctor suddenly pulled me aside and told me that Leo's test results had been mixed up with someone else's. It felt like a miracle dropped from heaven, a brush with death. But the very next second, I was dragged straight down into hell. "The blood sample that tested positive for leukemia... belongs to your daughter, Anna." I stood frozen in the doctor's office. Driven by an uneasy instinct, I turned around. I saw Anna standing outside the door. Her eyes were red, her tiny hands gripping the hem of her shirt in terrified panic. That night, Anna went missing. She left me a note that read: "Mommy, Anna is leaving. Mommy, Daddy, and Brother have to be happy every day." I went insane looking for her. It wasn't until late at night that I found her in the security office of the train station. She was trying to act like a grown-up, wanting to take a train far, far away by herself. I crouched down and hugged her tightly, the pain in my heart eating away at my bones. She guiltily wiped my tears and said: "Brother got sick and said he didn't want treatment. He said it was better to save the money for me to go to school. "So, I want to save the money for Brother to go to school too. "Brother is a genius. He can go to college next year. All the kids at school are so jealous of me." Leo was the best big brother in the world. During the times when Arthur and I were the busiest with work and had no time to watch them, he meticulously took care of his little sister. He raised the most obedient, sensible Anna. I held Anna, my body trembling uncontrollably, my heart filled with absolute despair. Anna, trying to act like an adult, gently patted my back. The chill of the early winter streets seeped into my bones. I looked out at the long, fog-covered road, unable to see any hope. Anna's childish voice whispered in my ear: "Anna knows that even if we take out all the money we have, it's not enough to cure me. "So Mommy, let Brother keep studying, and let Daddy use the money to heal his injuries, okay?" I remained silent for a long time before looking at her: "Then Mommy will go with you, okay? "We'll leave the money for Daddy and Brother. "We'll play a game of hide-and-seek with them. When... when Anna is all cured, we'll come back." Anna thought about it for a long time. Finally, she nodded heavily: "Okay!" ... The first letter ended there. Standing nearby, Leo seemed unable to listen to any more. He let out a cold laugh: "So you're trying to say Anna got leukemia?" Arthur scoffed lightly: "She used to be a screenwriter, after all. She really knows how to write a convincing script." As he spoke, his face a mask of cold impatience, he flipped to the next page. 3 "December 20th. Admitted Anna to the hospital." Before leaving for the specialized hospital out of state, I forced Arthur to sign the divorce papers. He lay in the hospital bed, his entire body wrapped in bandages, his voice thick with despair: "Chloe, I told you I'd figure out a way. "You can't... you can't be this cruel." I didn't waver. I divorced him. I packed a bag and took Anna away. Leo chased after us, blocking our path. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice shaking: "I told you, I won't get the treatment! I won't do it! Don't worry, I won't drag you down!" He reached out, trying to grab my hand. But I dodged him. As we stepped into the elevator, Leo’s trembling voice called out from behind: "Anna, what about you? "Mom and Dad were always busy. I've spent more time taking care of you than Mom ever did. "Just because I'm sick, you're going to follow her and abandon me and Dad?" Anna's face was already covered in tears. But she simply gripped my hand even tighter with her tiny fingers. A silent answer. Behind us, Leo finally let out a broken, raspy laugh: "Fine. Hahaha. Fine..." On the train heading south, Anna curled up in my arms. She cried and cried and cried. I wanted to cry too. But I couldn't. I had to comfort my daughter. I sold my diamond ring. I sold the vintage watch my mother left me before she died. I was an unfilial daughter. Even when she was alive, I wasn't able to do much for her. I sold every necklace, every piece of jewelry I had on me. I sold it all. Adding it all up, it was barely fifty thousand dollars. But it was enough to cover the short-term hospitalization fees. I pray... I pray the heavens show mercy, so my Anna can survive. I pray that one day, our family can be reunited. ... The writing on the second letter ended. Arthur read it with cold eyes, his emotions completely flat. He sneered, "Writing all this garbage just to justify pawning off our things for cash?" But the cigarette in his left hand had burned all the way down to his fingertips, and he didn't even seem to notice. He wasn't as calm as he appeared on the surface. His mouth spewed disgust. But he still flipped to the next letter. 4 "January 1st. "Mommy says the bone marrow match results are in. "I don't really understand, but Mommy says it means my sickness is going to be cured. "She can give me her bone marrow. And when it's done, we can go home. Back to Daddy and Brother. "Mommy was so happy she cried. She hugged me and said, 'Don't be scared, Anna. Just half a month and you'll be all better. It won't hurt at all.' "I'm a little scared. "But I want to know more... when Mommy gives me her bone marrow, will it hurt her? "I miss Daddy and Brother a little bit. "If Daddy and Brother were here, they could protect Mommy while I'm asleep getting my new bone marrow." Beneath the crooked, wobbly handwriting—a result of her rapidly failing strength—I had attached another photo of her. She was still smiling, flashing a peace sign at the camera. But the slightly blurry photo couldn't hide the dark bruises and swelling on the back of her small hand from the IV lines. Because of the chemo, her beautiful long hair had all been shaved off. Her left hand was self-consciously tugging at the new beanie I had bought her. I purposely got the hospital gown one size smaller, but it still hung loosely off her frame. In just half a month, she was basically skin and bones. Arthur held the letter, his eyes locked on the photo. He didn't move for a long time. The sarcastic, mocking words seemed to lodge in his throat. Leo, trying to maintain his uncaring facade, glanced sideways at the photo. His expression froze for a split second. It took him a while to snap out of it and force a cold laugh. But whether it was the cold wind blowing or something else, a faint, almost imperceptible tremble entered his voice. "Nice Photoshop skills. With that hat on, you really can't see her hair. "She has to wear a hat. Anna loves her hair more than anything. She'd never actually let anyone cut it off." The girl standing in front of them had tears streaming down her face. "It's not Photoshop. It's real. Anna's hair fell out because of the chemo. "At the time... at the time... they really thought she was going to survive." Her voice broke into a sob. Arthur seemed to have reached the end of his tolerance. His brow furrowed in impatient anger: "Enough! "You've orchestrated this massive drama, and now Leo and I have seen it. "Chloe's acting is phenomenal, and she trained her daughter to be a perfect little actress too. "Is that enough? Are you satisfied?!" Furious, the girl reached out to snatch the piggy bank back. "Give it back! You two are nothing like the people Chloe and Anna wrote about!" Arthur, completely out of patience, backhanded the piggy bank, intending to knock it into the nearby trash can. Leo reached out and caught it. The boy's eyes were full of resentment, his face growing colder by the second. "It seems that if we don't finish reading this meticulously crafted script, they won't leave us alone. "I'm actually starting to get curious. What kind of pathetic, ridiculous tragedy can such a cold-blooded person invent next?" Arthur's face was completely black. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his shoe. Unwilling to stay a second longer, he threw one last sentence at the girl: "If Chloe wants money, tell her to come get it herself. Don't expect to trade fairy tales for cash. I'm not a publisher buying scripts." He glanced at Leo, who was still standing there. "If you want to read it so badly, read it yourself." He led the young woman into his car and drove off without a moment's hesitation. Souls cannot feel the wind. But floating in mid-air, watching his retreating back fade into the night, my eyes still burned. For five years, his broad back was always the thing that made me and my daughter feel the safest. Now, even though he had someone new by his side, his silhouette seemed to grow thinner and more desolate. I looked away from the agonizing sight. I watched Leo flip to the next letter. 5 "January 6th. Anna can't hold the pen anymore, so I have to write it for her." Below it was another photo of Anna. She was still smiling at the camera, but her face was completely drained of blood. ... This morning, the little patient in the next bed over passed away. She was a year younger than Anna. Also a blood disorder. Last night before bed, Anna gave her a strawberry gummy bear. The little girl was so polite. She even said "thank you." The medical staff came in and covered her face with a white sheet. They rolled her little bed, the one with the pink blankets, out of the room. Her family was crying hysterically, screaming in agony. The sound pierced my brain like sharp needles. Anna stared at the empty spot where the little girl's bed used to be. She asked me: "Mommy, did that little girl go to sleep?" It took every ounce of strength I had to answer her: "Yes, sweetie. She went to sleep." Anna asked again: "She's never going to wake up again, is she?" I couldn't hold it in anymore. I turned my head away in a panic, avoiding her eyes as tears cascaded down my face. Another girl in our ward, seeing this, immediately called Anna over to watch cartoons on her phone. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I looked over, the girl gave me a comforting look. She was seventeen. Her name was Mia. She had congenital hemophilia. She was constantly hospitalized, and she never had any family staying with her. When I wasn't busy with Anna, I would help take care of her. She was grateful, so whenever she could, she helped me watch Anna. In this ward, we were all people bonded by mutual tragedy. That night, Anna's nose started bleeding again, and she lost consciousness. Right before she passed out, she was struggling to comfort me: "Anna just wants to sleep a little bit longer, Mommy. "When you wipe the blood away, it's gone. It doesn't hurt at all." I called the doctor in a panic. After an emergency intervention, the doctor warned me with a heavy voice: "The child's condition can't wait much longer. "You need to gather the funds as quickly as possible and prepare for the bone marrow transplant." I lied to Anna. I told her that since we were using my bone marrow, it wouldn't cost much money. So she was full of hope, waiting for the transplant, waiting to be discharged so she could see her Daddy and Brother. But even though I was the donor, the transplant surgery and post-op care would still cost at least three hundred thousand dollars. I sold every single script I had ever written. I added the money left over from selling my jewelry. Altogether, it was barely enough to hit a hundred thousand. I opened my phone and scrolled to a number I had found earlier. My blood type is special and incredibly rare. Maybe... maybe I could sell some plasma, or sign a long-term donation contract, to get the remaining two hundred thousand. But I wasn't sure if doing something so unsafe would end up costing me my own life. I didn't care about dying anymore. But I was terrified that even if I died, it still wouldn't be enough to save Anna. The lights in the ward were off. The night was suffocatingly dark. Where was the light?
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391749", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel