Outside the door, Olivia Young slipped away quietly.
The Story Editor was busily steering events back in line with the original story. Now was not the time for her to interrupt.
Mother An drifted off to sleep again, allowing Annabelle Winters to quietly retreat to a corner and call Grace Gordon.
"Mr. Gordon, could you come to the hospital? Just... pretend to be my boyfriend, please?"
"Annabelle Winters, you just want me to come because you say so? Who am I to you? Weren’t you the one who told me to leave yesterday?"
"Please, I’m begging you..."
"Begging won’t help—unless you agree to one condition."
"What condition?"
"I’ll tell you once I get there."
Peering through the glass in the door, Annabelle Winters watched her mother lying on the hospital bed. "Tell me first. I can’t agree to anything if I don’t know what it is."
"What are you afraid of? I’m not going to make you do anything illegal."
Of course she knew Grace Gordon wouldn’t cross that line. Still, whatever sneaky plan he had up his sleeve, she wouldn't fall in without knowing.
"Fine!"
"I have a meeting, I’ll come at noon."
"Thank you."
After hanging up, Annabelle Winters called her father. This time, he didn’t answer. It was always the same: calls only went through when he was out of money. What use was a father like that?
Annabelle Winters pushed open the door gently and slipped into the ward on tiptoes.
Sunlight crept further into the room as time passed by, and soon, Mother An awoke.
The anesthesia had worn off, leaving her in pain and utterly drained. She stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Mom, have some water."
Mother An sipped through a straw. "When is he coming?"
"Soon."
Truthfully, after calling this morning, she hadn’t heard from him. But judging by the time, he should be here soon—unless Grace Gordon decided to blow her off.
A little after noon, the door to the ward opened.
Mother An turned her head and, upon seeing Grace Gordon, managed a contented, fragile smile.
"You’re here..."
"Hello, Auntie."
Striding quickly to the bedside, Grace Gordon apologized, "Sorry, something came up at work, so I’m late." He made no mention of his visit the previous day.
"Xiao Gu," Mother An said weakly, "I don’t have much time left. My only regret in this life is not seeing my precious daughter, Wanwan, have a happy home. Will you promise me to take care of her, to love her?"
Grace Gordon looked to Annabelle Winters, who pleaded silently with her eyes. It was just a little white lie for her mother’s peace of mind. Help her out—just this once.
Grace Gordon took Annabelle Winters’s hand. "Auntie, I will."
A tear trickled from the corner of Mother An’s eye. "Good, good..."
"Mom."
Annabelle Winters bent over her mother. "I’ll be fine from now on, so you have to get better, too."
"I promise you..." Mother An’s voice, barely a whisper, faded as she closed her eyes again. She was so tired. This life had been too bitter—she didn’t want to suffer as a human again in her next.
Annabelle Winters pulled her hand away and gestured for Grace Gordon to follow her outside. He closed the door gently behind him.
"Auntie..."
"The doctor says things aren’t looking good." Annabelle Winters hugged herself. "It’s all right. For Mom, this is a kind of release." No more worrying about Dad, about Grandfather, her little brother—she could finally rest.
"If you want to cry, then just cry."
"I’m not crying!" Holding back her tears, Annabelle Winters pressed on. "You said I owe you a condition. What is it?"
"No rush. I’ll let you know when the time comes."
Fine. Only a domineering CEO could come up with something that weird. But Grace Gordon took it even further!
Mother An needed to return to her hometown. Not only did he arrange for helpers, Grace Gordon insisted on accompanying them personally.
Standing beside the car under the bright spring sun, Annabelle Winters tried to stop him. "Mr. Gordon, you really don’t need to go!"
"Annabelle Winters, why are you pretending to be strong? If I don’t go back with you and your dad causes trouble again, what will you do?"
"I won’t give in so easily this time. Besides, if you come back with me and my dad sees you, he’ll just start blackmailing you for money. I promised Madam Gu I wouldn’t see you again." Annabelle Winters was now full of regret. The five million yuan was already spent. What would she do when Madam Gu asked for it back? She couldn’t let her find out. Grace Gordon couldn’t come!
"Did you really sell me for five million? Was it me who refused to give you the money?" Grace Gordon didn’t know why, but he felt frustrated.
"Fine, you’re not coming—just don’t forget your promise."
She wanted to say, "Come back soon," but it sounded like a bad omen. She was strong—she’d make it through.
After a trip of over ten hours, Mother An finally returned home. As soon as Annabelle Winters arrived, her father blocked the door, demanding money.
"Dad, Mom’s critically ill and all you can talk about is money? I already gave you the whole five million. What more do you want!"
"If you won’t give it, I’ll go to Kingston and ask Grace Gordon myself! You once carried his child. If he won’t pay up, I’ll go public, ruin his reputation!" Her father snatched Annabelle Winters’s bag and rummaged through it.
Luckily, she’d been prepared: only some loose change was inside. He even took that—he never missed a penny.
"Thanks to you, I’ve already been fired! The Gu family wants nothing to do with me. Do you really think the almighty Mr. Gordon will give in to your threats? He has the power to make you disappear without a trace, and you wouldn’t even know it. Threaten him? Dream on!"
Smack!
Her father struck her across the face. "I’m your father! Who let you talk to me like that?"
Heartbroken and furious, Annabelle Winters screamed back, "What kind of father are you? You ignore everything at home. Mom worries about everything. All you do is drink, smoke, gamble. You don’t deserve to be a father or a husband. You bully the weak and fear the strong. If they arrested people for domestic violence, you’d have been in jail ages ago!"
Usually gentle, Annabelle Winters now found the courage to stand her ground. She would fight back. She refused to live the same miserable life as her mother—squeezed dry by her father, never allowed to rest, not even in death.
Her father raised his hand to hit her again, but someone grabbed his wrist.
"Dad, don’t hit my sister."
"Ungrateful brat! You dare defy me?"
Annie Winters, now in his first year of high school, had grown taller than his father. He shielded Annabelle Winters, "Dad, Mom’s health is awful. Don’t fight here and make her worry."
"She’s dying anyway!" her father bellowed. "What matters more—her life or the living? Can’t you get that through your heads? Bad luck! Dragging a dying person back home!" He stormed off.
"Little brother, let’s go check on Mom."
The siblings entered the bedroom. Mother An lay on the bed. "My children, both of you—leave this place. Go live your lives. Don’t come back..."
"Mom, Mom!"
"Mom!"
Mother An closed her eyes for the last time.
Her father, barely out the door, heard their cries and rushed back. All he saw was Mother An, eyes closed forever.
"Wife! Wife! Don't leave me..."
She’d only just returned, and now this—the pain felt like a knife twisting in Annabelle Winters’s heart. Was it anger that killed her? If only she’d never come home.
That night, white mourning banners went up in the house; it was a rural funeral, so neighbors from all around came to help.
On the first night, Annabelle Winters kept vigil beside her mother’s spirit. Her expression was numb, her mind echoing with her mother’s words: Leave this place. She had fought so hard, all just to leave.
The next day, Mr. Winters wailed inconsolably before the memorial altar. Annabelle Winters watched his display coldly. He’d never loved her in life—now he put on a show in death. Disgusting!