Chapter 3

The phone's light reflected on his face. That wasn't guilt or sadness—it was pure impatience and disgust.

In that moment, my blood completely froze.

He sensed my presence and whipped around, frantically trying to hide his phone.

But it was too late.

Our eyes met, and the mask of fragility on his face instantly crumbled.

"Emma, let me explain..."

Ethan's defense stuck in his throat, because he saw the phone glowing in my hand too.

On my screen was a bank collection notice I had just received.

"Dear Ms. Emma Scott, the hospitalization and physical therapy fees you arranged for Mr. Ethan Cole are overdue. Please pay the outstanding balance of $200,000 within three days, or we will discontinue treatment."

Two hundred thousand dollars.

What a laughable number.

I closed my eyes, and memories of our wedding flashed through my mind.

Back then, Ethan was handsome and tall, standing before me, making his vows.

"Emma, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

He said his startup had failed, that he was drowning in debt, and asked if I still wanted to marry him.

I smiled and hugged him: "I'm marrying you, not your money."

One month after the wedding, he got "sick."

ALS—a diagnosis that sounds hopeless just hearing it.

I quit my job, sold our small but cozy home, rented a run-down old apartment, and started working like crazy.

I believed that as long as we didn't give up, there was always hope.

But now, reality had slapped me hard across the face.

"Explain what?" I asked him calmly. Even I was surprised at how composed I was. "Explain that you can actually move? Or explain that you've been lying to me all along?"

Ethan stood up from the wheelchair.

Yes, he stood up. Stood up straight.

Gone was that sickly appearance that required my support just to barely stand.

"I didn't mean to, Emma." He walked toward me, trying to take my hand. "It started as a joke..."

"A joke?" I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

"Working myself to the bone every day was a joke? You standing by while I was attacked was a joke? Ethan, your jokes sure come at a high price!"

A flash of guilt crossed his face, but it vanished instantly.

"It was Lily! She made a bet with me!" He desperately shifted the blame. "She said if I married you, I had to prove that she was the only one in my heart! She said unless she came back, I couldn't have any 'normal' contact with the outside world! This was all for her!"

"For her?" I repeated those words, finding the whole thing utterly absurd. "So I deserved to be played like a fool? I deserved to be your slave?"

"I didn't think that way! Seeing you work so hard, I felt bad too!" He shouted back as if he were the one who had been wronged.

"I wanted to tell you the truth so many times! But Lily said this was the final test of our love! She said she'd be back soon!"

"So those two hundred thousand dollars in 'therapy fees' were part of the test too?" I held up my phone, shoving the collection notice in his face. "I thought your startup failed and you were broke? How did you pay for this?"

His face went white instantly.

"I... I..." He stammered, unable to explain.

I didn't need his answer anymore.

I rushed into the bedroom and pulled open a hidden compartment under his bed.

Inside was a laptop.

I opened it, and a stock trading app appeared on the screen.

The numbers in the account had so many zeros I couldn't count them.

And in the transaction history, the most recent large withdrawal was from yesterday.

The description read: Lily's Gallery.