This hand was ruined saving him.

Now he was using it as an excuse to humiliate me.

"Let me in... please..."

I lifted my head, swallowing the pain. "A life is at stake... it really is..."

"Cut the crap! Leave or we're calling the police!"

The security guard waved his baton impatiently.

A black Maybach rolled up to the entrance.

The window lowered halfway.

That familiar profile.

Adrian.

He was tilted toward the passenger seat, eyes soft with tenderness.

Lily clutched a massive bouquet of red roses, her smile brighter than the blooms.

"Adrian!"

I rushed forward, slamming my palm against the window. "Stop! You stop right now!"

They both startled.

He turned. Through the glass, I caught the shock in his eyes—then it curdled into disgust.

He didn't stop.

Didn't roll down the window. Didn't ask a single question.

One cold glance. A gesture to the driver.

"Drive."

The engine roared. The Maybach tore away without mercy.

Dust and exhaust hit me full in the face.

I stumbled after it, legs giving out. I crashed hard onto the pavement.

My knee split open. My palms scraped raw.

I couldn't feel any of it.

I only saw that car speeding off—carrying my father's last chance—vanishing into the night.

Through the rear window, Lily was nestled in Adrian's arms. He was leaning down, wiping something from the corner of her mouth.

So gentle it broke your heart.

A tenderness he'd never given me.

Not when I took a knife for him. Not when I washed his clothes, cooked his meals, gave him everything.

Eight years of my youth couldn't buy a single backward glance.

I lay on the frozen concrete, staring at the empty street.

The tears finally broke through.

I lost the bet.

Wendy, you lost.

You gambled your father's life on a shred of Adrian's conscience—and you lost everything.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out with shaking hands. The screen read: "ICU Attending."

The moment I answered, even the wind seemed to stop.

"Dr. Winfield..."

Heavy. Urgent.

"The patient's pupils are dilating. All vitals are crashing."

"Where are you? Why isn't Dr. Henson here?"

"We... can't hold on."

The phone slipped from my fingers.

I knelt on the ground, facing the direction that car had disappeared, and screamed.

"Adrian—!!"

Only the bone-deep cold answered. My shadow stretched twisted and wrong beneath the streetlight.

Five a.m.

The sky hung a deathly gray-blue.

I don't know how I got back to the hospital.

I remember running red lights. Horns blaring, strangers cursing—noise from another world.

At the elevator, I watched the numbers climb.

Each one dragged my heart deeper.

I gripped my phone—last hope, last shred of dignity.

I dialed Adrian again.

This time, someone answered.

But it wasn't him.

"Hello?"

Lily's voice, sweet and syrupy, lazy with satisfaction.

"Oh my, it's Wendy, Senior Sister."

"It's so late—why are you still calling?"

I took a deep breath, forcing down the bloody sweetness in my throat. My voice came out so hoarse it didn't sound like mine.

"Put Adrian on the phone."

"Senior Brother…"

Lily giggled. Behind her, cheerful arcade music played, mixed with the crisp clink of coins dropping.

"Senior Brother is winning claw-machine dolls for me."

"He said tonight he's staying up all night to celebrate with me, making up for all the birthdays I never got to have."

"Senior Sister, can you stop using work as an excuse to bother us? Men hate clingy women the most."

Every word was a poisoned thorn, stabbing precisely into my festering chest.

I was waiting to die outside the ICU. They were at an arcade grabbing plushies.

"Give him the phone!"

I practically roared it.

"Lily! I got it!"

Adrian's excited shout came through the line, with a childish glee I'd never heard before.

"Come look! It's your favorite bunny!"

"Wow! Senior Brother, you're amazing!"

Lily cheered, her tone dripping with smugness.

"Senior Sister, did you hear that? Senior Brother's busy making me happy."

"Oh—he's calling me. Gotta go, okay?"

Beep—

The call cut off. Mercilessly.

At the same time, the elevator doors opened.

Ding.

Crisp. Piercing.

I lifted my head and ran straight into several nurses pushing a gurney out of the ICU.

A white sheet covered it.

Beneath the sheet—a human-shaped outline.

Everything went silent.

I stood frozen, watching that gurney roll slowly toward me.

An aged hand drooped from the edge of the sheet, swaying lightly with each movement.

My father's hand.

Covered in needle marks and bruises.

And in that stiff palm, still clutched tight—a photo.

Me as a little girl, sitting on his shoulders, laughing without a care in the world.

"Dad…"

My mouth opened. No sound came out.

All the blood in my body seemed to rush backward. The world tilted.

The nurses stopped when they saw me. Their eyes filled with sympathy.

"Dr. Winfield… our condolences."

"We did everything we could… if the surgery had been just a little earlier…"

I couldn't hear the rest.

The world spun. My legs buckled. I dropped hard onto the cold tile floor.

My forehead hit the ground with a dull thud.

Blood ran down my brow, smearing across my eyes.

But I felt no pain.

My heart was already dead.

I knelt there, forehead pressed to the floor, like a sculpture that had lost its soul.

No crying. No screaming.

Only endless emptiness.

Two hours later.

My phone rang again.

Adrian, calling back.

I picked up mechanically, my movements slow like a rusted machine.

"Hello?"

His voice was light. Happy. Still slightly breathless.

"It was too noisy at the arcade earlier. Didn't hear you."

"What's wrong? You called so many times."

"Did you come to your senses and want to apologize?"

He seemed to be in a great mood—even cracked a rare joke.

"If you're sincere about it, I might bring you breakfast."

I held the phone, listening to the wind on his end.

Staring at the morgue's cold iron door in front of me.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, my expression strange.

"Adrian, no need."

My voice was calm in a terrifying way, like a pool of dead water, without the slightest ripple.

He froze, clearly not expecting this reaction from me.

"What do you mean no need? The surgery?"

"Yes, no surgery."

I looked at the bloodstained photo in my hand and said each word slowly.

"Because he's already in the morgue."

On the other end of the phone, there was a deathly silence.

I took a deep breath and, in the gentlest voice, said the cruelest words.

"At the exact second you caught that rabbit for Lily, he was gone."

"Adrian, congratulations."

Snap.

From the other end came the sound of a phone dropping to the floor.