Chapter 2
By the time I walked out of the Stone Residence, it was already pitch black outside.
The early autumn wind cut right through my thin school uniform, making me shiver. I glanced down at my phone. The ICU payment overdue notice was still on the screen, like a blade hanging over my head.
Seventy thousand dollars.
In my past life, I never managed to get that money. My mom pulled out her oxygen tube in the early hours of the third day. When the nurse found her, she was still clutching a note: "Nina, don't blame your dad."
Even when she died, she was still making excuses for Michael.
And what was Michael doing?
He was off planning his wedding with Evelyn.
Stone Corp never went bankrupt. That eighteen-year poverty act was nothing but a game Michael set up. He wanted to see if Rachel was with him for his money.
He switched from his luxury car to a beat-up van, his mansion to a tiny rental in the slums, and thought he was some tragic romantic hero.
During the eighteen years he played poor, my mom worked dawn till dusk running a street stall, her hands covered in chilblains, too frugal to turn on the heater in winter.
When he finished his testing and was satisfied that Rachel truly loved him, what did he do? He turned back and married Evelyn.
And his reason? Just because Evelyn grew up together with him, and he owed her.
All those endless winters my mom endured meant nothing compared to Evelyn being his childhood sweetheart.
And I, his daughter, was stopped at the door by security at his wedding. Three hundred guests stared at me as Michael, with his arm around Evelyn, stood on stage and announced to the host, "I don't have an ex-wife or a daughter."
In that moment, the entire room fell silent. I could hear my heart shatter.
I took a deep breath. That was all in the past life.
Standing on the steps outside the Stone Residence, I wiped the blood from my forehead, grabbed my phone, and dialed a number.
The call connected, and a tired, middle-aged woman answered, "Hello?"
"Lucy," I said, "it's me, Nina. I'll find a way to pay Mom's hospital bills. Please watch over her in the ICU, and call me if anything happens."
"Nina, what about your dad?" Lucy Gibson asked.
"I don't have a dad," I said.
After hanging up, I opened my mobile banking app and checked my balance: one hundred and nine dollars and twenty-seven cents.
Back then, I was already running all over the city begging for money, including Mom's distant relatives, Dad's old buddies, and even my teachers.
Everyone just waved me off, saying they couldn't help. Only my homeroom teacher, John Lewis, didn't hesitate and transferred his savings of 17,000 dollars to me.
But John's 17,000 dollars only kept Mom alive for three more days.
This time, I wasn't going to wait around hoping for a miracle.
I had something I never got to use in my past life: a critical illness insurance policy Mom bought when I was thirteen.
The contract had been sitting forgotten in a drawer of our rented apartment, and back then, I was so busy begging for help that I never even thought to look for it.
The payout from that policy was more than enough to cover the bills.
In my last life, I pinned all my hopes on Michael and ended up destroying Mom's last chance with my own hands. This time, I finally understand the truth: relying on others' kindness was never as wise as looking into your own drawers.