Chapter 3

In three years, my mom had passed away too.

I lived a precarious life, having killed people and, in turn, becoming a target.

My savings had all gone into this dessert shop. Now it was trashed, and I had no idea where to go.

Pain flared, and I lacked the strength to move. I sat in the ruins, letting the night rain soak me.

Port City's newspaper headlines screamed, "Liam, the Golden Boy, Returns for Revenge on Old Love."

By dawn, I was ready to leave.

Before I left, I knelt and bowed my head three times towards the wreckage.

Liam suddenly appeared, grabbing me and pulling me to my feet with one hand.

"A rundown dessert shop, worth all this drama?"

I slapped his hand away, stood steady, and delivered three stinging slaps to his face.

"My parents' memorial photos were in there, and they're gone," I said calmly. "Of course I'd bow my head."

He licked the corner of his mouth, a smirk playing on his lips. "Three slaps for your mom's memorial? I think I got the better deal."

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the ruins.

He followed behind me, his words like daggers.

"Seraphina Hayes, I'm talking to you."

I paid him no mind, walking towards the exit.

He chased after me, blocking my path.

"Don't pretend you don't care! Your face is as white as paper, and you're still trying to be tough?"

"My old illness has flared up; I look a little worn out." I forced a smile. "Liam, what do you think you are, that you could affect me?"

Deep down, I knew he was back just to cause trouble.

If I were healthy, I'd gladly fight him again.

But now, just standing there drained all my strength.

The hospital smelled of harsh disinfectant.

The doctor looked at the scans, his expression grave.

"How much medicine was left from last time?"

"It's all gone."

"All gone? Three months' worth of medication, gone in a week!"

The doctor fell silent. I understood-my time was running out.

"Do you have any family?"

"My parents are both gone. It's just me."

He rubbed his temples. "It was pretty stable before. Why has it gotten so bad this week?"

I glanced at my phone. A news alert popped up-Liam, arm-in-arm with Summer Reed.

The person I thought I didn't care about still hurt me the most.

"The situation isn't optimistic. After stopping the medication, seven days, one month, three months-those are critical periods."

"Keep this bottle with you. Take three pills when the pain is severe, no more than three."

He hadn't even finished speaking, and I'd already opened the bottle, shaking out pills and swallowing them.

How many didn't matter, as long as it stopped the pain.

I crouched in a hospital corner, my back against the cold wall.

Freezing until I was hypothermic could numb the pain.

Cold sweat drenched my clothes.

For ten minutes, the sounds of crying and prayers echoed from the operating room next door.

"Mommy, is that sister from the bed next to ours? Should we go say goodbye to her?"

"Her illness isn't getting better, dear. Let's not disturb her. Poor child, no parents, and no one to see her off in her grave illness."

The little girl looked up. "Someone in this world must care about her, right?"

I blinked, my blurry vision focusing on my phone.

It was a text from Liam.