Chapter 8 Gastric Cancer

"The diagnosis is stomach cancer, already at the mid-stage."

Dominic didn't take it.

He stood by the bed, looking down at the paper in Penelope's hand, his brows furrowed tightly.

A few seconds later he spoke, his voice heavy, "You're saying you have cancer?"

Penelope didn't have the energy to repeat it.

Dominic reached over and took the report for a look—hospital stamp, attending physician's signature, medical record number. He flipped to the second page, then back to the first.

Then he tossed the report on the bed.

"Let's go, to the hospital."

Penelope looked up at him.

Dominic's expression wasn't concern—it was scrutiny.

"I'll take you to get checked myself. If it's true, I won't ignore it." He paused, then added, "If it's fake, you know the consequences."

When Penelope stood up, her legs were weak. She had to hold onto the edge of the bed to keep from falling.

Dominic didn't help her.

He walked ahead, Penelope followed behind, two steps apart.

The car ride was silent the whole way. Dominic had one hand on the steering wheel, driving fast. Penelope leaned against the passenger seat back, stomach pain churning in waves. She clutched her abdomen with her eyes closed, fine beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead.

Dominic's gaze swept over her once in the rearview mirror. He said nothing.

When they reached the hospital emergency entrance, Penelope had just gotten out of the car when she saw a white Porsche parked ahead.

Catherine got out and jogged over, looking anxious.

"Dominic! You suddenly said you were coming to the hospital, I was so worried. What's wrong?"

Penelope stopped in her tracks.

Dominic had called Catherine on the way? She hadn't noticed.

"Nothing, just bringing her for a checkup." Dominic's tone was flat.

Catherine glanced at Penelope, her concern perfectly measured. "Penelope, are you not feeling well? You look terrible."

Penelope ignored her and walked straight toward the outpatient hall.

Blood draw, gastroscopy.

Throughout the whole process, Dominic stood waiting in the corridor while Catherine sat quietly on a nearby bench, her fingers constantly typing something on her phone.

When Penelope came out after the gastroscopy, her mouth was full of the taste of anesthetic, her throat burning with pain.

She leaned against the wall waiting for the results.

Forty minutes later, the results came out.

Dominic went into the consultation room before her.

The doctor sat in front of the computer, pushed up his glasses, and pulled up Penelope's medical file.

"Penelope, right? I've looked at your gastroscopy results and blood work. Currently, there's no sign of malignant tumors. You have mild superficial gastritis. I recommend a light diet and rest."

Penelope stood in the doorway, her mind completely blank.

Impossible.

Her diagnosis report, the pathology slide number she'd seen herself—how could there be nothing?

Dominic turned to look at her.

Penelope recognized that look—it was something deeper than anger—disgust.

He walked out of the consultation room, passing by Penelope without stopping.

"Satisfied?"

Penelope chased after him, her voice hoarse. "That's wrong. The results are wrong. I was diagnosed at another hospital before."

Dominic stopped in the middle of the corridor. The fluorescent lights hit his face, half bright, half dark.

"Penelope, how long are you going to keep up this act?"

"I'm not acting!"

"You even dare to lie about having cancer." Dominic's voice was very low, each word like a nail. "You disgust me."

He stepped forward and grabbed Penelope's arm, gripping so hard her bones creaked.

Then he pulled her around, turning to face Catherine standing at the end of the corridor.

Dominic spoke sharply, "Apologize to Catherine."

At those words, Penelope's body went rigid.

Catherine hurried over and grabbed Dominic's arm. "Dominic, forget it. Penelope might really not be feeling well. Don't make things hard for her."

Dominic didn't let go. "Threatening letters, online harassment, faking illness—you've done it all."

He stared at Penelope. "Apologize."

Penelope reached into her bag and pulled out the diagnosis report from the original hospital. "Look at this. This is from the first examination. The slide number is right here. Have them pull the original files."

Dominic's gaze lingered on the report for two seconds. He took it and scanned it, seeming to hesitate about whether to verify it.

Catherine suddenly reached out to steady herself against the wall. Her body swayed. "Dominic, I feel a bit dizzy."

Her voice was soft, her face somewhat pale.

Catherine rubbed her temple with one hand, her eyes slightly red.

Dominic immediately shoved the report back at Penelope and turned to support Catherine. "What's wrong? Did you catch a chill from the wind earlier?"

Catherine leaned on his shoulder, shaking her head weakly. "I'm fine. Maybe I was just scared by those messages tonight, and that awful feeling hasn't gone away."

Dominic's expression changed instantly. His eyes full of concern, he put his arm around Catherine and walked toward the elevator, then without looking back, threw out, "Get home yourself."

Penelope stood in the corridor clutching the report. She looked back at the consultation room door.

The doctor was writing something with his head down.

Through the glass, Penelope could just see the computer screen on the desk. She could tell the medical record information belonging to her in the hospital system had been altered, because the interface colors and font spacing of that information had visibly different details from the normal hospital system.

But that information must have been changed in advance, and Catherine had arrived too quickly.

When Dominic made the phone call in the car, he'd already tipped Catherine off. By that calculation, Catherine should have had enough time to prepare that falsified medical information.

When Penelope walked out of the hospital entrance, it had started raining—not a light rain, but the kind that comes crashing down, hitting the ground and splashing up white mist.

She stood under the hospital entrance awning in her thin windbreaker, took out her phone and opened a ride-hailing app, but there were no available cars nearby.

Penelope waited ten minutes. The phone still showed no available cars.

Later the rain got heavier. Cold wind mixed with moisture drilled into her bones. Penelope's hands were frozen stiff, and her stomach began cramping. The painkillers were in her bag, but she couldn't even twist open the water bottle cap.

Suddenly in the distance, a pair of headlights came on. A black car slowed down and stopped in front of her.

When the window rolled down, Penelope froze. The person in the driver's seat was Matthew.

In the passenger seat, Chloe was turning her head to look at her.

Penelope stood under the awning without moving.

Matthew looked at her expressionlessly and spoke flatly, "Get in."

Penelope said nothing.

Chloe leaned over from the passenger seat and smiled. "Penelope, it's pouring out there. Don't just stand there, get in."

Penelope hesitated for two seconds, then pulled open the back door and got in.