3

The blizzard from last night had stopped, but the temperature in New York had dropped to freezing.

I pulled the collar of my pilled coat up to the highest point, covering almost my entire face, and huddled in a corner of the subway heading to Columbia University Hospital.

"Hey, look at the one across from us, isn't that the bitch dog from yesterday's video?"

Several high schoolers with backpacks shoved each other, pointing at me and whispering.

One of the boys deliberately walked up to me, kicked my foot with the tip of his shoe, grinned wide, and let out an extremely grating: "Woof!"

An uncontrollable burst of malicious laughter erupted in the subway car.

Someone held up their phone and snapped multiple pictures of me.

I sat stiffly in place, my nails digging fiercely into my palms that had been pierced by broken glass on the club floor last night, forcing myself not to listen, not to look.

That $500,000 check was right inside my coat.

Right now, Leo's life was the most important thing; I didn't care about these people at all.

However, when I slapped the check, still warm with my body heat, onto the hospital payment counter, Nora, looking ghastly pale, pulled me to the end of the corridor.

"Elena, a VIP medical record was suddenly dropped into the system just now. The other party used the fast track of a certain charitable foundation to directly postpone Leo's assessment schedule, which was originally set for tonight."

Nora lowered her voice, her eyes full of anger.

"But I got enough money! The director said it just takes five hundred thousand—" I grabbed her white coat like a madwoman, my voice trembling.

"Five hundred thousand was yesterday's standard!" Nora interrupted me in anguish. "If you want to forcibly cut the line and beat out that VIP fast track privilege, you either need a law firm providing your endorsement, or you have to go through an interstate emergency stem cell reallocation. That expedition fee requires at least another hundred thousand dollars. It must be paid within a month, otherwise the schedule slot will be completely voided!"

My hands let go weakly.

A hundred thousand dollars.

I couldn't even find a cleaning job; where was I supposed to get another hundred thousand dollars?

Driven to a dead end, I dialed the number on a business card for a manager at a top-tier Midtown club, which an inmate had once slipped to me.

The person laughed on the phone: "The gimmick of a former wealthy heiress turned murderer—there will definitely be a lot of perverted rich guys willing to pay for it. Come be a temporary hostess. Just drinking with them, no sleeping around. Paid daily."

When I changed into that uniform with pitifully little fabric that dug tightly into my flesh, my sense of shame was already thoroughly numbed.

The moment I walked into the luxurious top-floor private room holding a tray, I didn't even raise my head.

Until a strong scent of cologne mixed with icy rage pinned my entire body fiercely against the wall outside the room.

The tray hit the floor, and champagne shattered everywhere. I looked up in terror and met Alex's eyes, which were red with resentful hatred.

"You just finished crawling last night, and you're here selling yourself today?" Alex gritted his teeth, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. The tyrannical look in his eyes as he looked at my body was like looking at the filthiest piece of trash. "What, five hundred thousand still doesn't satisfy your appetite?"

"Alex... let me go, I'm working. I'm still short a hundred thousand, just a hundred thousand..." I struggled desperately, but my wrists were clamped tightly by his grip, the bones nearly shattering.

"You want a hundred thousand, right? I'll buy your cheap body!"

He aggressively yanked my hair, roughly dragged me into an empty guest room at the end of the hall, lock the door behind him, and threw me viciously onto a wide sofa.

Over the next hour, my dignity and my body were utterly trampled on by him as if I were the cheapest prostitute.

He had no tenderness whatsoever, only manic punishment and venting.

My back was rubbed raw and bloody by the texture of the sofa, and the wound left on my forehead from last night split open again. Blood flowed down the corner of my eye into my mouth, salty and metallic.

I lay on the sofa like a corpse, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Alex put his clothes back on, took a check out of his coat pocket, and smashed it onto my face like throwing trash.

"You really disgust me," he spat coldly.

I didn't cry. I sat up slowly, and without even putting on my clothes first, I fiercely clenched that check in the palm of my hand.

"Alex," ignoring my naked body shivering in the cold air, I tumbled off the sofa, knelt at his feet, grabbed the leg of his suit pants, and begged with a trembling voice, "I've gathered enough money... I'm begging you, could you issue a lawyer's intervention letter for me? Only with your law firm's endorsement will they not dare to interfere with Leo's surgery again... Please..."

Alex's movements abruptly halted.

He lowered his head, and then, he kicked my hand away.

"I'll say it one last time, Elena. I will absolutely not sign any document for a bastard of unknown origin. You don't deserve it."

The door was slammed heavily, and he disappeared completely from my sight.

I lay all alone on the freezing carpet, pressing that hundred-thousand-dollar check tightly to my chest, letting out a wail that sounded like a wild beast on the verge of death.

At three in the afternoon, I rushed back to the hospital with the check.

But in the corridor of the hematology department, I saw a bright and glamorous Madeline.

She was gently shaking hands with the department director: "Thanks for your hard work, then. Our foundation's VIP must be prioritized."

My body shuddered.

It was Madeline actually pulling the strings behind the scenes!