Chapter 3

Three days after the funeral, I finally moved out of that mansion.

The day I left the church, I furiously demanded a property settlement. Stanley sneered coldly, "You think you deserve my assets after throwing yourself at me all those years ago? Dream on."

The lawyer handed me a document with cold indifference: "Complete forfeiture. You may only take personal belongings."

Now, the rotting floorboards of this shabby apartment creaked shrilly beneath my feet. Three cardboard boxes—that was all I'd managed to salvage from that grand estate.

"Cough, cough..." Another violent coughing fit seized me. I pressed my hand firmly over my mouth, crimson blood staining the tissue once again. With trembling fingers, I stuffed the bloodied tissue into the trash, pretending nothing had happened.

Car horns blared outside. I instinctively glanced through the window to see a young couple embracing on the sidewalk, the man tenderly smoothing his girlfriend's wind-tousled hair.

Stanley had never done anything like that for me...

The thought flashed through my mind before I shook my head with a bitter smile. Opening the first box, I found Patty's art albums and photographs. On top lay our only family portrait—taken at Patty's birthday party, where my seven-year-old daughter beamed with innocent joy while Stanley didn't even look at the camera, his expression as cold and distant as a stranger's.

"Mommy, why doesn't Daddy love us?" The last time my daughter asked this question, those clear eyes had been filled with confusion and hurt.

I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears poured out like a broken dam. Clutching Patty's photograph to my chest, my body shook with violent emotion while the stabbing pain in my lungs and waves of bloody coughs reminded me that time was running out.

My phone suddenly rang, interrupting my breakdown.

"Mrs. Thompson, you've missed your follow-up appointments for a month now. Your condition may have changed—you need to come to the hospital immediately." The nurse's voice carried urgent concern.

An hour later, I sat in the examination room at California General Hospital.

"The progression is faster than we anticipated. You may only have one to two months left." Dr. Martinez studied the new test results, his tone more grave than before. "If we begin treatment immediately, we can try to extend your life..."

The doctor continued speaking, but I'd stopped listening.

Extend my life? What was the point?

"No, thank you. Let me spend whatever time I have left in peace." My voice was surprisingly calm, even to myself.

"Mrs. Thompson, you're still young. Your family would want you to—"

"I don't have a family anymore." I cut him off. "My daughter is dead, and my husband... ex-husband is about to start a new life with another woman. Treatment would only prolong my suffering."

The doctor opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

Walking out of the hospital, I spotted the entertainment gossip magazines at a street newsstand. The bold headline read: "Tycoon Stanley Everest Engaged to First Love Blondie Carson—Million-Dollar Diamond Ring"

In the photo, Stanley knelt on one knee with a smile, slipping a ring onto Blondie's finger. Blondie's radiant smile was exactly like... like the one I'd once dreamed of wearing.

Three days after my daughter's funeral, he was engaged.

I burst into laughter—hysterical, body-shaking laughter as tears streamed down my face like broken pearls. Three days to erase eight years of our existence, mine and my daughter's.

I stood on that street corner for a long time, until my legs gave out and I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment. Continuing to sort through my belongings, I opened the second box containing my mother Helen's possessions—medical journals, yellowed photographs, and a brown leather diary.

Opening the diary, my mother's elegant handwriting filled the pages:

"March 15, 1995. Donald's surgery was successful. AIDS patients are still patients, and my duty is to heal and save lives. The gratitude in his eyes made me believe there's still hope in this world."

"May 2, 1995. Accidents always come too suddenly. During Donald's follow-up examination, the scalpel accidentally cut my hand. The test results aren't back yet, but I already have a feeling."

"June 10, 1995. Confirmed. Donald nearly collapsed when he heard the news, saying it was all his fault. But I don't regret saving him."

Afterward, out of guilt and responsibility, Donald insisted that my mother and I move into the Everest mansion so he could care for us.

I still remember the shock of first entering that mansion, when Donald warmly told me, "Freya, this is your home." He truly treated us as family, never making me feel like we were living on charity. After mother died, he cared for me even more, sending me to the best medical school and encouraging me to pursue my dreams.

It was also in that mansion where I first met Stanley. He was coming down the stairs, wearing a simple white T-shirt, sunlight streaming through the glass windows and illuminating him like an angel.

"You must be Freya," he approached me with a warm smile. "Welcome home."

In that moment, my heart raced.

Stanley was wonderful to me, caring for me like a protective older brother. Later, we both got into the same medical school. He'd always wait for me in the library to walk back to the dorms together, bringing me warm milk and staying up all night when I was sick. He had just been abandoned by his girlfriend Blondie—she'd left him for a study abroad opportunity. Stanley was heartbroken for a long time.

I stayed with him through those darkest days, listening to him pour out his longing and resentment for Blondie late into the night. Gradually, I noticed the way he looked at me changing from brotherly affection to something else. And my heart had already been claimed by him without my realizing it.

"Freya, I want to spend my life with you."

"Me too, Stanley."

But everything changed that night.

It was the graduation celebration party, everyone drinking and celebrating. Stanley was heavily drunk, rambling about his father, family pressure, and how he couldn't freely choose his own life.

Then... that happened.

Was I really the one who initiated it? The memories were blurry and confused. I only remembered Stanley's horrified and guilty expression when he woke up the next day, and his increasingly cold attitude afterward.

"You and your mother are exactly the same—always using these methods to get what you want!"

Those words echoed in my ears like a curse.

But I never wanted to get anything! I only loved that gentle boy who brought me warm milk. All I wanted was a complete family!

Why did he become so distant? Why did he say such cruel things?

"Cough, cough, cough..." Another violent coughing fit struck, worse than before. I could barely breathe, bloody tissues scattered across the floor.

Leaning against the sofa gasping for air, I accidentally knocked over a Barbie doll box on the coffee table—Patty's favorite. When I picked it up, I discovered a small folded piece of colorful paper. I carefully unfolded it to reveal Patty's childish handwriting:

1. Make Daddy a nightlight so he won't be scared of the dark

2. Watch the sunrise with Mommy and Daddy

3. Learn to make Daddy's favorite sandwich

4. Get a little orange kitten

5. Ride the Ferris wheel at the amusement park

My daughter's innocent handwriting looked especially clear under the lamplight. The first item had been circled with red crayon—the first wish she wanted to fulfill, and the last one she would ever complete.

I clutched the paper tightly, tears blurring my vision. Patty had never mentioned these wishes to me while she was alive. She was always so understanding, never wanting to burden me. But she'd been harboring so many little dreams in her heart...

At midnight, my coughing finally subsided. Gazing at the sparse starlight outside, my daughter's final words echoed in my mind:

"Mommy, if I'm not here anymore, you have to keep living and complete the things we promised together..."

"Yes, Patty. Mommy promises."

I gently caressed my daughter's photograph, looking again at the wish list. My eyes no longer held despair, but rather a strange sense of peace.

"Mommy will fulfill all your wishes, and then come to be with you," I whispered softly.