Chapter 5

The turning point appeared in a place no one expected.

At the blood bank center conducting bone marrow screening for Anderson, an elderly professor about to retire happened to see my name while doing final file archiving.

Wesley—the name seemed familiar to him.

He pulled up my blood donation records from years ago and my registration with the bone marrow registry.

When he saw my blood type report, his eyes behind reading glasses widened instantly.

"Quick! Pull up Mr. Anderson's matching data immediately!" he shouted excitedly to his assistant.

The two sets of data were placed side by side. The loci—a complete match.

A miracle with odds of one in hundreds of millions had just occurred.

The news reached Cedric's ears immediately.

After a brief moment of wild joy, he immediately fell into even deeper panic.

Wesley, the ex-wife he'd dismissed with a broken-down house, was actually the only hope for saving his father.

He immediately mobilized all his resources, even hiring a private investigator at great expense, searching frantically for my whereabouts.

Two days later, the investigator placed a stack of photos and documents on his office desk.

The photos showed my little shop, me playing on a swing with Betty in the yard, me shopping and eating ice cream with my best friend.

In every photo, I smiled so happily, so relaxed.

Cedric grabbed his car keys and practically tumbled out of the office.

He sped all the way, running several red lights, finally parking on that quiet street corner half an hour later.

He saw my shop.

Through the glass window, he saw me sitting inside, head lowered, patiently teaching a young woman how to throw pottery.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Wind chimes rang out crisply.

I looked up.

The moment I saw him, I wasn't surprised.

I knew he'd find his way here eventually.

The smile on my face didn't even change. I just said to the young woman, "Feel it out on your own for now. I'll be right back."

Then I wiped my hands and walked toward him, as if approaching an ordinary customer.

"Sir, how may I help you?"

My voice was calm and flat.

Cedric looked at this face so close yet utterly unfamiliar, his throat tight.

He spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse. "Wesley, let's talk."

"Sure." I pointed to the small stone table in the yard. "Let's talk here. I'm busy in the shop."

We sat across from each other. He looked at me with complex emotions in his eyes.

He pulled a document from his suit pocket and pushed it in front of me.

"Wesley, I know you hate me. But this time, I'm begging you. As long as you're willing to donate bone marrow to save my father, I'll agree to any condition. This is an asset transfer agreement. My large flat in the city center, plus twenty million in cash from my personal account—it's all yours."

He thought this was the greatest sincerity he could offer.

I didn't even glance at the document.

I simply picked up my teacup, blew on the steam, then raised my eyes to look at him calmly.

"Cedric, did you forget? We're already divorced."

"According to the law, we're strangers now."

"What makes you think a stranger has any obligation to undergo a risky major surgery for your father?"

My words drained all color from his face instantly.