When I'm making a delivery, I receive a phone call from the bank all of a sudden.

"Ms. Emily Sutton, we found out that your bank card with 7985 as your last four digits has made a withdrawal of five million dollars this morning. Are you in urgent need of money?"

I pause in climbing the stairs.

"Five million dollars?"

The employee says yes before proceeding to repeat my bank card number.

The bank card with 7985 as the last four digits is really my bank card. But the thing is, there isn't a single cent stored in that account.

I feel my hands starting to tremble slightly.

When I'm about to ask the bank employee what's going on, I happen to spot my husband, Marcus Wilde, walking into a real estate office a short distance away.

The voice on the other end of the call continued without pause.

"Ms. Sutton, if you're not in urgent need of funds, we recommend keeping your money in our bank. We can also provide you with financial planning services."

A dull ringing filled my ears, and I couldn't make out a single clear word. I mumbled a few perfunctory responses and hung up.

I rushed to deliver the food order, then immediately headed to the sales center.

No one ever paid attention to a delivery driver.

I stood in a corner, and a chill crawled up my spine.

The man I had shared a bed with for ten years was now standing in front of the property we had once dreamed about together, carefully pointing out different units with clear interest.

He dismissed one unit as too flashy and another for having too little space between the buildings.

Finally, under the eager gaze of the sales agent, he waved his hand decisively.

"I'll take the premium unit on the 18th floor."

I clenched my fist so tightly that my nails dug deep into my skin. The sharp pain grounded me just enough to stop myself from rushing forward to question him.

I watched in silence as Marcus signed the contract, paying 4.75 million dollars in full. The enormous figure hit me like a blow, leaving me dizzy.

Meanwhile, my bank card held five million dollars.

How could there be five million dollars in an account I had almost forgotten about?

Before I could make sense of it, my phone rang. It was Marcus Wilde.

I stepped into the restroom to take the call.

His voice came through the line, heavy with exhaustion, as though it could crush me beneath its weight.

"Darling, we're still short 500 thousand dollars for Mom's surgery. I really cannot borrow any more money. Can you pick up another job?"

His words pulled me straight into an abyss.

Victoria Powell, my mother-in-law, had been bedridden for five years. She underwent a minor surgery every year and a major one every three years. Every last cent of our savings had been exhausted.

I had no choice but to work multiple jobs. I woke up at 5:00 am to deliver milk. At 8:30 am, I clocked in at my office job. During lunch breaks, I went out to deliver food orders. After work, I drove for ride-hailing services for another five hours. Most days, I worked until I was so exhausted I nearly vomited.

And Marcus?

After I came home every night, he would casually massage my shoulders for a moment, then go on and on about how broke we were.

At times, I could no longer endure it and begged him to get a part-time job, but he would always appear troubled.

"Mom is in the hospital. If we hire a caregiver, it will cost even more. Where would we get the money?"

And yet this same man, who constantly complained about money, had just casually bought the apartment I had always dreamed of.

Marcus kept pressing me.

I took a deep breath. "No. Marcus, I am already working four jobs. If you're really so devoted to your mother, then you should go find a part-time job yourself."

It was the first time I had ever spoken to him with such firmness.

Marcus fell silent for a moment.

"Emily Sutton, can you try to understand me for once?" he snapped. "You want me to get a part-time job? Then are you going to go to the hospital and wipe Mom's body and deal with her waste?"

His tone was deliberately harsh, making caregiving sound disgusting and unbearable on purpose.

I removed my delivery uniform and said calmly, "Fine. I will go to the hospital right now."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

Then Marcus let out a long, tired sigh and said, "Em, what's going on with you? Are you having trouble at work? Whatever it is, let's go home and talk about it, okay? We will figure something out together."

Every time I tried to share the burden of taking care of Victoria, he would put on that understanding, considerate act and patiently urge me to focus on my job.

Back then, I fell for it every time.

Now, I just hung up and headed straight to the hospital.

…

The hospital was crowded. I pushed through the stream of people toward a hospital room I knew by heart but had never once entered. Just as I reached the door, I heard Victoria's loud, energetic voice.

She was chatting with another patient in the room.

I stopped at the doorway because I heard exactly what they were talking about.

Someone asked, "Mrs. Wilde, you look perfectly healthy. Why are you in the hospital?"

Victoria couldn't hide the smugness in her voice.

"My body's fine, but my mind isn't. Whenever I see my daughter-in-law, my eyes hurt, my heart hurts, my whole body hurts. My son had me stay in the hospital and sent her out to work to pay for my medical bills."

The room fell silent, and so did my heart.

For five years, they kept the lie going.

I had been married to Marcus for five and a half years, and Victoria had been "hospitalized" for five of them.

The two of them had been working together to deceive me all along.

My marriage had been a nightmare crafted by their own hands. My gaze drifted out of focus, and all the sounds around me faded, leaving only Marcus's voice from the beginning of her hospital stay.

Back then, I was three months pregnant, suffering from severe morning sickness, vomiting nonstop. After a full day and night of it, I couldn't take it anymore and wanted to take leave from work.

Marcus had held my hand, looking deeply troubled. "If you take time off, what about Mom's medical bills? Darling, her life is in your hands."

What could I say after that?

Later, I overworked myself, and I lost the baby.

I was devastated.

Marcus said, "We can always have another child. It was just a fertilized egg. It's not worth more than Mom's life."

My child was worth less than Victoria's life. My suffering, my exhaustion, the way I was mistreated, even my injuries and blood meant less than Victoria's life.

I once cried and asked Marcus, "Why is my life so difficult?"

He said, "It's all because I'm useless. I don't have money."

Those words ran through our entire marriage. And yet today, the same man who cried about having no money and pushed me to work myself to the bone had withdrawn five million dollars from my account to buy a house.

I took a deep breath.

Just as I was about to push the door open and expose everything, Victoria's phone rang. She was a little hard of hearing, so she put it on speaker.

Marcus's impatient voice blasted through. "Mom, Emily's lost it. She's insisting on going to the hospital. Make sure you play your part!"

Victoria clicked her tongue in irritation. "That bitch only knows how to stir up trouble!"

The next second, her tone changed.

"Marcus, did you buy the house? That stupid family used to give us 100 thousand dollars every month. Luckily, you were smart enough to claim that little bitch was sick so we could get 500 thousand dollars from them. Now that we've bought the house and the car, can we finally get rid of her?"

I gripped the door handle, my body going numb.

Who was that family she mentioned, the one paying them 100 thousand dollars a month? On top of that, they had even pretended I was sick to cheat them out of 500 thousand dollars.

The unknown surged up like a wave of fear, swallowing me whole.

Before I could even calm myself, Victoria dropped another bombshell.

"I miss Lucas. Marcus, if you don't get rid of that bitch, when will my real daughter-in-law and my grandson finally be reunited with us?"

Marcus fell silent for a moment.

"Just a little longer," he said at last. "At least until we secure one more payout big enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives."

My entire body was shaking.

I wasn't sure how I managed to leave the hospital.

Icy raindrops spattered against my face. I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to steady myself.

I still had so many things to do.

Firstly, I had to find out who was giving Marcus and Victoria money. Secondly, I was going to make them pay for what they'd done.

Victoria had also mentioned a daughter-in-law and a "Lucas" during her earlier conversation, but I didn't care about that. It didn't make a difference to me whether Marcus only betrayed me once or twice.

I made my way to the bank.

The manager personally attended to me, repeating the same things he had told me over the phone. Once again, he tried to convince me to transfer the money back to my account and set up a financial investment with their bank.

I didn't respond. Instead, I handed him my card and said, "I'd like to take a look at the statements for this account. Can you pull up the records from five years ago to now?"

The manager was momentarily stunned before he nodded. "Of course."

He worked quickly.

About 15 minutes later, he produced a long transaction record.

Starting from five years ago, someone had deposited 100 thousand dollars into my account every month. They would increase the amount to 500 thousand dollars during my birthday month and the New Year. They had also transferred five million dollars into my account that month.

As a result, they had deposited 15 million dollars into my account over the span of five years. Including what I had earned from my part-time jobs, I currently had a total of 16 million dollars in my account.

My heart throbbed painfully as I counted the number of zeroes that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

"Are you able to find out the details of the person who's been making these transactions? Or can you get in contact with them?"

The manager's expression shifted slightly. "You don't know who's been transferring the money into your account?" he asked carefully.

Should I know them? I had no parents. The only thing that I had was an invisible burden that seemed to haunt me wherever I went.

"I don't," I replied.

The manager's expression twisted. "Please wait a moment."

He pulled out his phone as he rushed out of his office.

I sat in the office, sipping the warm water to alleviate some of my anxiety.

I wondered how I should face the person who had casually transferred 15 million dollars into my account. How would I pay them back if they suddenly wanted their money back?

I had no idea, and I couldn't think of a suitable solution even after mulling over my thoughts for a long time.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when the office door suddenly swung open. I could see many men clad in black through the half-opened door. I had seen them on TV before and guessed that they were bodyguards.

A group of them escorted a couple into the office in the next second.

The moment we made eye contact, all of us froze.

I never would have imagined that something so dramatic would happen to me. I could tell that the couple was my parents just based on their looks.

My parents broke down in tears as they hugged me. They told me about how they had lost me 28 years ago. They explained that five years ago, a man named Marcus Wilde approached them with a single strand of hair.

The DNA test that they conducted with my hair proved that we were biologically related.

However, Marcus told them that I hated them and didn't want to see them, which was why they started compensating me with money. They deposited money into my account every year until the amount totaled up to 15 million dollars.

The money was meant to represent my parents' love and remorse toward me, but Marcus had used it to buy a house and car for himself. He had even used it to support himself and his mistress.

Our marriage had been a part of his meticulous scheme from the very beginning.

…

I returned home after reuniting with my parents.

Marcus and I lived in a tiny basement apartment.

The moment I opened the door, my senses were assaulted by a foul and damp odor. The place was packed with furniture, the bed shoved up against a moldy wall.

Mom and Dad stood behind me, wearing matching steely expressions.

"This is where you live?"

"Yes."

I skillfully maneuvered past the obstacles and headed for the bed. I then reached under it and pulled out a box.

Victoria's medical records were stored inside the box.

Every time I wanted to take a look at them, Marcus would tell me that he didn't want me to fret over such things. It was why I had never opened the box before.

When I tried to open it, I realized that he had locked the box.