Chapter 2

The phone's ringtone pierced the deathly silence.

On the caller ID, the name I thought I'd never see again flashed frantically: Blake Harrison.

I slid to answer, remaining silent.

On the other end, his voice sounded frantic, carrying a raw panic he hadn't even recognized himself.

"Willow! Something happened! Your… your video and audio, someone uploaded them to the dark web, and they're about to be publicly auctioned off!"

I lay on the bed, feeling the agonizing gnawing of cancer cells through my very core, my insides utterly desolate.

Video? Auction?

Oh, so that's the stuff they tricked me into recording with their digital avatar app.

They were finally making their move.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Blake's tone grew more urgent: "Willow! Are you even listening?! If that video leaks, your entire life will be ruined! Do you understand?!"

My 'life'... I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a ghost of a laugh escaping my throat. A cold, bitter sound.

Blake Harrison, do you even know how many 'days' I have left of this so-called 'lifetime'?

I used every ounce of my remaining strength, forcing a single word from my dry throat:

"Oh."

I knew he was waiting for me to break down and beg.

Waiting to see me crawl at his feet like a whimpering dog.

Too bad for him, he miscalculated.

On the other end, a sharp female voice erupted, just as I expected: "Blake, I told you! These poor people don't care about dignity, only money!"

It was Chloe Sterling.

"Shut up!" Blake roared at her, then, suppressing his anger, said to me: "Willow, I talked to the seller. He can pause the auction. I'll give you one night to come up with a million dollars and buy it back. This is your last chance!"

A million dollars.

He was testing me.

Testing if I would cry and beg him, beg my ex-boyfriend to be merciful, to generously open his wallet.

Then, he could stand on the moral high ground and openly mock my materialism and my vanity.

How many days did I have left to live?

These elaborate farewell gifts you so painstakingly planned for me.

It was utterly laughable.

"Oh."

I said it again.

This time, Blake completely lost it.

"Fine! Fine, Willow! I must have been damn blind! I thought you were just materialistic, but I never imagined you'd have no shame left!"

He roared hysterically, then slammed the phone down.

Listening to the dial tone, I slowly closed my eyes.

It was over. Let it be.

However, not long after, my phone rang again.

An unknown number.

I answered, and a middle-aged man's voice came through the receiver: "Is this Ms. Willow? I'm from the property management of your mother's old residence. We'd like to confirm that your mother has sold the property. When would be convenient for you to come and clear out her belongings?"

...What?

Mom sold the house?

A powerful wave of unease shot through me like a jolt of electricity.

The physical pain was instantly overshadowed by this dread. I sprang from the bed like a madwoman, pulling on whatever clothes I found and tearing out the door.

I hailed a cab and sped towards Harrison Tech Tower.

That was Blake Harrison's company.

Before the car even stopped, my gaze cut through the crowd and fixated on the center of the plaza.

There, on the polished, reflective floor, under the indifferent or curious gazes of countless people.

My gray-haired mother, Eleanor, was on her knees, kneeling before Blake Harrison and Chloe Sterling.