Chapter 4
Michael paused, clearly caught off guard by my question.
He asked, "You really want to know?"
He leaned in, his face just inches from mine, his eyes icy and chilling.
He said, "The sea washed me up on a deserted island. My leg wound got infected and inflamed, and I was burning up with a fever that wouldn't break.
"I spent three days there with no food or water. I survived by drinking rainwater and eating live fish.
"I thought I was going to die there, until a fisherman who was out at sea found me and saved my life.
"Do you know how I survived those three days? Over and over, I kept asking myself why you pulled the trigger and why you betrayed me.
"I went over countless reasons in my head, but in the end, I realized there was only one. You loved money more than you loved me.
His words cut deep, stabbing into my heart.
"I didn't..." I tried to protest.
"Enough!" He straightened up, his face showing nothing but raw disgust. "Stop pretending. I won't ever trust you again. From now on, every word out of your mouth is evidence."
Just then, the door swung open, and a doctor in a white coat walked in.
"Who's the patient's family?" the doctor asked.
Michael frowned. "I'm the officer in charge of her case."
The doctor glanced at the handcuffs on my wrists and then looked at Michael.
"Her condition is really bad," the doctor said. "It's late-stage stomach cancer, and the cancer has already spread everywhere.
"You sent a sample for biopsy before, and the results just came in. It's bad news. Even painkillers can't help her now. We have to start chemo right away. Maybe it'll give her a few more months."
The doctor's words made the whole room go dead silent.
Michael froze, his expression locked in shock.
"Late-stage stomach cancer?" he murmured.
He whipped his head around, staring at me like he was trying to see right through me.
But my face was calm and deathly pale.
"Late-stage stomach cancer?" Michael echoed, his voice dry and hoarse. "Is there some mistake?"
The doctor pushed up his glasses and handed Michael the medical report.
"It's all right here. See for yourself," the doctor said. "The tumor in her stomach is pressing on her aorta.
"She could have a massive hemorrhage at any time. We really don't recommend any more harsh questioning. As her doctor, I strongly advise you to get her admitted to the hospital right away for treatment."
Michael held the thin report, his fingers shaking.
All the medical terms were lost on him, but the words "late stage" and "spread throughout the body" jumped out right away.
He looked at me, his gaze conflicted.
I avoided his gaze and spoke calmly to the doctor, "Thank you, doctor. I understand. I refuse treatment."
The doctor was stunned. "Why? You're still young. You can't give up hope."
"I don't have the money," I said.
Michael's whole body jolted, like he'd been hit by a shockwave.
"All my assets are frozen," I added.
The doctor looked like he wanted to say more, but Michael spoke up first. "Can you give us a moment? We need to talk."
The doctor let out a sigh and left the room. Once again, it was just the two of us in the room.
Michael strode over to the bed and slammed the report down in front of me.
"What is this about?" he demanded. "Emily, what tricks are you pulling now? Are you making up a lie to avoid punishment?"
I looked at him, and suddenly, I almost wanted to laugh out of bitter irony.
"Captain Sawyer, haven't you already got all the proof you need?" I said. "You've got the hospital receipts, piles of cancer meds, and now this diagnosis report.
"So why do you still not believe me? Is that really how you see me? A woman who'd throw away her own life for money?"
He had nothing to say. That was exactly what he'd always thought of me.
That shot three years ago marked me for life as greedy and heartless. Nothing I said or did would make him trust me again.
"I'll have someone verify it," Michael said coldly and walked out. At the door, he paused without turning around.
"You're not allowed to die before you're officially convicted. The police will front the treatment costs for now," he said.
The door closed behind him.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling.
Finally, the tears I'd been holding back started to fall.
What Michael was paying for wasn't my treatment but my death warrant.
I couldn't accept treatment. Once I started chemo, I'd never have the strength to finish my final task.
The police verified everything quickly.
Tommy knocked on Michael's office door, holding a thick stack of documents.
"Captain Sawyer, it's all been confirmed," Tommy said. "Emily was officially diagnosed with stomach cancer a year and a half ago.
"These are all her medical records and payment receipts. She doesn't have insurance, so every expense has come out of her own pocket. It's cost her a fortune.
"We also found her attending physician. He said Emily has always resisted chemotherapy and relied solely on medication. If she'd started standard treatment earlier, she wouldn't have ended up like this."
Michael flipped through the stack of documents, his expression growing darker with every page.
Every payment slip, every medical record, was like a stinging slap right across his face.
The "dirty money" he'd been so sure about had all been spent on the medicine that kept me alive.
"Why didn't she tell me earlier?" Michael muttered under his breath.
Tommy looked at him, clearly wanting to say something but holding back.
"Anything else?" Michael looked up.
Tommy took a deep breath and said, "I found something odd about the case from three years ago. Back then, when your undercover identity was exposed, the file says Emily snitched on you to Kingston to save herself.
"But Captain Hudson Evans, the handler who was your sole contact at the time, was killed in an accident shortly after everything went down. All we've got is Kingston and his crew's testimony, plus that shot Emily fired.
"Don't you think all this is a bit too coincidental?"
Michael felt a cold weight drop in his chest.