Chapter 2
"Linda, please!" I yelled, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand. "Dr. Grant is in surgery with your parents right now! Let me go! I have to donate blood!
"If anyone here has a rare blood type, come with me and help!"
For the first time, Linda hesitated. "You're serious?"
Sweat was trickling down my temples despite the cool air. "I'm dead serious! Why would I make this up?"
But Jason sneered, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Babe, don't fall for it. If your parents were really in an accident, why would the hospital call Grace instead of you? Think about it."
Linda's face hardened. "Right. You almost had me, you bitch. Using my parents' lives to get out of paying what you owe!"
I frowned, cutting a glare at Jason.
In his eyes, I saw pure resentment.
He was still pissed that I had called him out on the fake bags and humiliated him.
"Linda, I'm not lying!" I said desperately. "Where's your phone? They must have called you! Just check your phone!"
"I'm in a wedding dress, you idiot! I told you in the car. I don't have it! Are you just trying to mess with me?"
Shit. I had forgotten.
"Okay, then borrow a phone! Call them! They're in surgery, so they won't pick up!"
She stared at me for a long moment and turned to Jason. "Give me your phone."
Jason blurted out, "Seriously? You actually believe her?"
"Just give me the damn phone!"
Reluctantly, Jason handed it over.
Linda quickly dialed her mother's number.
It rang and rang, but no one answered.
She gave me a nervous glance and dialed her father's number.
Just like before, her call just kept ringing, but nobody picked up.
I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes. She was starting to believe me.
I let out a shaky breath.
"Now, can I go?"
"Hold on," Bob Martin, the best man, said, stepping forward.
"It's the middle of the afternoon. They're probably at church for pre-ceremony prayers. You know they mute their phones for that."
He was right. It's a local tradition for old-school families to pay a pre-wedding church visit to pray for a happy marriage. And they always turn off their phones.
Linda's face, which had been pale with fear, now flushed with rage. "You bitch," she snarled. "I almost fell for it.
"Say one more word about my parents, and I will rip your tongue out.
"Now, transfer the seventy grand, or I swear to God, you will regret ever showing your face here today."
I was speechless.
If her parents died today because she was too stubborn and stupid to listen, how would they feel, watching from the afterlife?
My eyes were red with unshed tears of frustration. "Jason, I'm asking you one more time. On your conscience. Were those bags you gave me real?"
He flinched, darting a guilty look around before puffing out his chest. "Of course they were real! What kind of man do you think I am?"
"Then show us the receipts," I argued.
Those bags were fake, so I knew he couldn't.
Sure enough, his face went rigid.
"What receipts? I bought them from a reseller. There are no receipts."
I scoffed, "Then show us the bank transfers. Don't tell me you don't even have those."
"I..." he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.
Just then, Mia Green, a girl with her hair piled in a topknot, pointed at the bag on my shoulder.
"That one's real," she said confidently. "See the logo placement? My replica doesn't have that. I've been studying this brand for months. Hers is one hundred percent authentic."
All eyes turned to my bag.
The logo on my bag was unmistakable.
Jason let out a sigh of relief. "See? I told you I only buy the real deal."
The fight went out of me.
The bag I was carrying today was real.
But Jason hadn't bought it for me.
I had bought it for myself, a way to save him from embarrassment.
Every time Jason gave me a fake, I would quietly buy the real version myself to protect his pride. And now that kindness was being used against me.
"Well, Grace?" Linda sneered. "Nothing to say? You pathetic gold-digger, making up all those lies just to get out of paying 70 grand.
"Come on, transfer the money. You always acted like such a big shot. What's wrong? Can't afford it?"
Suddenly, my phone buzzed again.
It was another urgent text from Charles.
Charles: [Patients are crashing. How long until you're here? Hurry!]
"Are you really not going to let me go?" I asked Linda, my voice shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation. "Your parents are going to die because of you!"
I immediately tried to video call Charles again. He had just texted me, so he had to be free.
And this time, he answered.