Five years after Olivia Olivia left Carl Carl, he returned to Ashford in triumph—new fiancée on his arm, a lavish banquet in his honor.

Meanwhile, Olivia was hunched in a nightclub stairwell, vomiting her guts out for a few bucks to pay for her medical treatment.

“Mr Carl is something else. A self-made man, and in just five years, he’s become the new star of the business world. So young, so accomplished!”

“Absolutely. From now on, we’ll be leaning on Mr Carl’s support!”

“…”

Three figures descended the stairs. Reeking of alcohol and slumped against the wall, Olivia weakly lifted her gaze—and suddenly locked eyes with a pair of icy, penetrating ones.

For a second, she instinctively tried to straighten her disheveled appearance.

But that gaze lingered only a moment before indifferently shifting away. The man turned and continued down the stairs.

As if she were a complete stranger.

“Carl, don’t go…”

Fumbling frantically, Olivia pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she dialed the number she knew by heart.

The call connected almost instantly.

“Hello.”

His cool, detached voice yanked her violently into memories she couldn’t escape. A sob caught in her throat.

“Carl Carl, I’ve missed you so much.”

She could almost hear his breath hitch on the other end. After a long, heavy silence, his voice finally returned.

“Wait right there.”

The call ended. In less than two minutes, Carl stood before her, slightly breathless, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “What—you regret betraying me back then? Now that you see I’ve made it, you want to come crawling back?”

Olivia leaned against the wall, staggering to her feet.

“Yes, I regret it.”

“Carl Carl, you once said that on the day you achieved success, you’d grant me one wish.”

Carl stared intently at Olivia, as if pulled into the past. His eyes began to redden.

“I remember.”

“You said your only wish was to marry me.”

Olivia laughed, taking one unsteady step after another toward him.

“No. Not anymore.”

“I want money, Carl Carl. I don’t want to marry you anymore. I just want money.”

“Give me a million. I promise I’ll forget everything between us, completely. No one will ever know that the red-hot business mogul of today was once head over heels in love with a woman like me.”

Carl let out a cold, mocking laugh—tinged with something like relief.

“Five years apart, and you come to me for money?”

Olivia’s smile was bitter. “What else? Did you really think I’d ask you to marry me?”

“How could I ever marry a cheap woman like you, who’d sleep with anyone for a bit of cash!”

The disgust in his eyes felt like it was shredding the last of Olivia’s dignity.

She lowered her head, taking a long moment before she could speak again.

“You’re right. I am that kind of cheap woman.” Finally, she looked up, meeting his gaze. “So, a million. Not a cent less.”

“Why would I give you anything?”

“Because…” Olivia reached out, her fingers lightly hooking his tie. “I have a lot of… intimate photos of us. If I sold them to the media, I’d probably get a pretty penny too, right?”

Carl forcefully shook off her hand, his disgust deepening.

“You think you can threaten me?”

“Unless you strangle me right here, right now, you can only keep one: your money or your reputation.”

“Olivia Olivia!” Carl finally snapped, each word ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re truly despicable!”

“Is money that important to you?!”

Olivia fought with everything she had to keep the tears from falling.

“Yes. Money is more important than my life!”

Carl stared at her, his breathing heavy and unsteady.

“You—”

“Carl, who are you talking to?”

A clear, gentle woman’s voice shattered the moment. Carl took a sudden step back.

Pamela Pamela approached from the lower stairs. Seeing Olivia, she paused briefly.

“Olivia, what are you doing here? And dressed like this?” She strode over, taking off her own coat as if to drape it over Olivia. “I told you before to stop doing this kind of… physical work. Why won’t you listen?”

Carl pulled Pamela behind him, shielding her. His cold gaze swept over Olivia.

“Don’t touch her. She’s filthy.”

Olivia flinched violently.

Carl would never know: every single cent he’d received for his startup back then had been earned by this “cheap” woman, traded piece by piece with this “filthy” body of hers.

“I can give you the money.” Carl’s voice cut through the silence. “But, Olivia Olivia, you’ll have to trade your body for it.”

Olivia’s head snapped up, only to meet Carl’s eyes, blazing with hatred.

Olivia followed Carl into a lavish private room.

The clamor inside died the instant he appeared, everyone rising to their feet in respect. He walked in and took his seat on the central sofa, with Olivia hurrying after him.

Carl slammed a check down hard on the coffee table, his voice icy. “You love to debase yourself, don’t you? Fine. I’ll let you.”

“Get on your knees and toast every single one of my employees. One glass, and I’ll give you twenty thousand.”

“Drink until every person here is satisfied—then this money is yours.”

Olivia’s gaze swept the room. There were at least forty, maybe fifty people. And the check in front of Carl was for one million.

One million.

Enough for the heart transplant she desperately needed.

Pamela moved to pull Olivia back. “Carl, don’t do this. Making her kneel and kowtow—it’s too degrading. She still has some dignity left.”

Olivia took a step back, avoiding Pamela’s touch. “I need the money. Compared to money, what’s dignity worth?”

She strode forward, picked up a bottle, filled a glass, and without hesitation, knelt before one of the men. “To you.”

The man was taken aback, then picked up his glass and clinked it against hers.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth…

Under the assault of strong liquor, her stomach churned violently. Every forced swallow scraped like a blade against her raw throat.

But she couldn’t stop.

She needed money. A lot of it.

Gradually, some grew restless. A stream of humiliating remarks followed, accompanied by wandering hands that landed on her collarbone, her chest, even her thighs.

She didn’t resist.

Olivia could feel the heat of Carl’s glare boring into her back.

Finally, she stood before him again.

She filled her glass once more, then dropped heavily to her already swollen knees, the impact a dull thud against the hard floor.

“Mr. Carl. A toast to you.”

She tilted her head back. Just as her lips touched the rim, Carl’s hand shot out, smacking the glass from her grasp.

A loud crash.

Behind her, the coffee table was kicked over violently. Shards of glass exploded, slicing deep cuts into Olivia’s arm.

But Olivia barely felt the pain. She scrambled forward on her knees, raking frantically through the glass until her bleeding fingers found and clutched the check.

“Olivia!”

With Carl’s gritted shout, the room spun. She was dragged bodily out of the door.

In the dark, empty private room next door, Olivia was thrown roughly onto a sofa. Carl pinned her wrists, his eyes bloodshot with raw hatred.

“Olivia! Do you really have to debase yourself like this for money?!”

Olivia lowered her gaze, not daring to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to live in poverty anymore, Carl. In this world, everything is fake. Only the money in your hand is real.”

“So, even the nine years between us… that was fake too?”

Olivia felt the tears rising, but she forced them back, steadying her trembling voice. “Yes.”

“You were just a bet I placed. My luck ran out. I didn’t have the patience to wait for you to succeed.”

“Carl, asking me this… do you still have feelings for me? Honestly, if you just nod, we could keep seeing each other. Secretly.”

*Slap.*

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

Olivia’s head snapped to the side, her cheek burning.

“A woman like you… the sight of you disgusts me.”

The grip on her wrists vanished. Olivia looked up, her eyes fixed on his tall, retreating back.

Cold. And final.

Carl opened the door. Olivia’s heart suddenly hammered wildly. She opened her mouth to call him back, only to see Pamela appear in the doorway.

Slipping her arm through Carl’s, Pamela smiled with gentle triumph. “All done? We should go.”

“The private jet route is approved. I want to see the island you bought for me.”

The words died in Olivia’s throat.

The door closed, plunging the room back into silence.

Olivia clutched the check in her palm. A silent sob escaped, then another, until she could no longer hold back, collapsing into ragged, broken weeping.

The door opened once more. Hurried footsteps approached, and then Olivia was pulled into a warm embrace.

“What happened? Olivia, don’t cry…”

Carol fumbled, wiping Olivia’s tears away.

Olivia pressed the crumpled check into Carol’s hand. “I have money now, Carol. I have money.”

“I can get treatment. I can pay Nancy’s school fees…”

She cried until she was breathless, gasping between sobs. “I didn’t want this. I really didn’t want this…”

If she’d had a choice, she wouldn’t have trampled the last shred of her dignity.

But time was a luxury she didn’t have.

“It’s okay, it’s over now. With this money, you can get better. The worst is behind you, isn’t it?”

Olivia scrubbed fiercely at her tears, but the hollow, suffocating ache in her chest was killing her.

She knew her life would never truly be whole again.

But even a life riddled with holes—she would fight with everything she had to keep living.

Exhausted, Olivia dragged herself home.

A warm light spilled from their tiny rented apartment. Hearing the door, Nancy—in her favorite pink nightgown—ran out in little slippers and wrapped her arms around Olivia’s legs.

“Mommy!”

“My good girl, look what Mommy brought you!”

Olivia smiled, holding up a strawberry cake.

Nancy’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands happily. “Strawberry cake!”

Carol watched, frowning, as Nancy skipped off to get her little apron.

“Why haven’t you told Carl he has a daughter?”

Olivia’s hand went still, her fingers tightening unconsciously.

Yes. She and Carl had a child together.

At sixteen, she’d made the bravest decision of her life—running away from the group home with Carl, never looking back.

They took a train for over ten hours, arriving in this strange, sprawling city.

Life was lived at the very bottom. At their lowest, they squeezed into a shoebox apartment, splitting a single pack of instant noodles.

Four years later, having saved a decent sum from street vending, Carl started his own business.

But they hadn’t accounted for human treachery. Betrayed by a partner, he was left drowning in debt, wiped out overnight.

The pressure was suffocating. Carl would jolt awake in the dead of night, and Olivia would always find him on the balcony, the cherry of his cigarette burning a solitary red in the dark.

That was when Pamela, her closest friend, introduced her to an upscale nightclub.

Olivia was pretty, with a good figure. Hired as a cocktail waitress, she pulled in a shocking amount in tips her very first night.

If she could ease even a little of Carl’s burden, she thought, it would be enough.

Until one day, for fifteen hundred dollars, she drank the glass a customer handed her.

She woke up naked, pinned beneath a middle-aged, overweight man.

She struggled. She screamed. It was useless.

Afterward, the man threw a wad of cash in her face.

Fifty thousand. A full fifty grand.

She’d never imagined one night of hers could be worth that much.

But when she told Pamela, her friend said, “That’s a *good* thing! Fifty grand—there are plenty of women at the club who’d kill for that and never see half of it.”

“Isn’t Carl desperate for money right now? I heard the bank people came by again, pressing you. Honestly, if this works… maybe you should consider…”

Olivia’s heart dropped.

She thought of Carl these past days, tormented by debt collectors, barely sleeping. Slowly, her hands clenched into fists.

Pamela gently took her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it secret. If you’re willing… I have some connections. I can help you…”

Olivia bit her lower lip until it bled, then gave a hard nod.

She was already ruined. What did it matter if she was defiled further?

As long as it helped Carl through this crisis, as long as he got what he wanted, she was willing.

And so, she began saving up. Bit by bit.

Ten thousand, twenty thousand…

She shattered herself, trading in the cheapest kind of allure, faking desire for one man after another.

Eventually, Carl found out.

The moment the door opened, she was pinned beneath a burly, middle-aged man.

Their eyes met. In Carl’s gaze, she saw disappointment, fury, agony, despair.

She knew there was no going back.

Facing Carl’s heart-wrenching accusations, Olivia laughed—a sharp, brittle sound, utterly devoid of warmth.

“What did you expect? You’re useless.”

“I’m done living hand-to-mouth because of you! Coming to Ashford showed me money really is everything.”

“Even love isn’t enough to make me suffer in some rented hole with you.”

“Now that you know, I’m done pretending. Let’s break up, Carl. I’m tired of being poor!”

Later, Carl really left.

Completely, utterly—vanishing from her world.

And Olivia? She let herself go completely, moving from one man’s bed to another.

It wasn’t until the day she discovered she was pregnant that she anonymously transferred all the money she’d earned over two months into Carl’s account.

For five years, Olivia prayed every single day.

She prayed Carl would achieve his dreams. A man like him, so talented, shouldn’t be buried by poverty.

Fortunately, he succeeded.

Five years later, he swaggered back into the city, fiancée in tow.

It was fine.

From now on, their lives would return to separate tracks. And this secret—she would bury it deep in her heart.

Until death.

Olivia fished her diagnosis report from her bag and dialed the number on it.

“Dr. Caleb, I’ve got the money for the transplant surgery. I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow to discuss the details?”

A pause on the other end.

“Actually, Ms. Olivia, I was just about to call you.”

“Half an hour ago, someone offered two million and bought the heart.”

“If you can bid higher, there might still be a chance…”

The world went dark before Olivia’s eyes.

“The one million I have… I nearly killed myself to get it. Another million on top of that? How could I possibly raise that…”

“Well… how about this, Ms. Olivia. I’ll give you the contact for the buyer. Talk to him properly. This person… his status is unusual. Two million is nothing to him. See if he might be willing to give up the heart.”

The call ended. Olivia clutched her phone, waiting for Dr. Caleb’s text.

With a *ding*, she opened it immediately.

A string of familiar numbers appeared on the screen.

The realization settled in her gut—a cold, hard weight.

This number… she’d recited it ten thousand times over the past five years. No one knew it better than her.

The one who bought the heart was Carl.