By the time I arrived at the hospital, it was already evening.

My mother was sitting outside the hospital room, leaning against the wall and fast asleep.

I did not wake her up. I sat down next to her.

I closed my eyes as my mind recalled the day’s events.

The counterfeit money. The divorce. Deborah and Peter’s words.

Every word they said felt like a knife stabbing into my heart.

I did not know how long had passed when my phone buzzed.

It was a notification.

I opened it and saw that it was Peter’s livestream.

He was in the living room at home, facing his phone camera. His eyes were red, as if from crying. He looked grief-stricken.

“Guys, I really didn’t think she would be like this. We’ve been married for a year. I gave her good food and a comfortable life. She won’t even give me one kid. Now her dad is sick, and she wants to divorce me. She also wants to take the money my family gave her during our wedding.”

He put my photo on the screen. It was a photo of me lying on the couch at home, scrolling through my phone.

“Look at her. This is what she’s like at home. She doesn’t do any housework. All she does is lie around every day and scroll on her phone. I don’t even know why I married her.

“Whenever a guy walks by our front door, her eyes lock straight onto his lower body. How shameless could she be?

“What’s even scarier is she keeps saying she wants to take care of her dad and save her dad. But behind my back, when I’m not home, she puts on sexy nightgowns to go take care of him. Guys, I honestly don’t know what to do anymore.”

The comments popped up on the screen.

[You can tell just by looking at her. She’s no good.]

[She’s just running a marriage scam, isn’t she?]

[Take the money back. Giving it to her would be a waste.]

Peter played another clip from the security camera.

It was the part where I came home yesterday, yelled at Deborah, and told him I wanted a divorce.

In the video, I was standing in the living room. My voice was very loud, and I looked very agitated.

But he had cut out the earlier part where Deborah cursed at my parents.

He only kept the part where I said I wanted a divorce.

The camera then turned to the nightgowns I had left at home.

“Guys, take a look. What decent woman wears a nightgown this short?”

But those were just normal nightgowns. It was so hot in the summer. Who would wear long ones?

The comments became even more vicious.

[Is this woman out of her mind?]

[Divorce her already. Get your money back!]

[You can’t keep a woman like this. Who knows if she’s seeing someone else?]

Peter looked at the comments and wiped the corner of his eye.

“I just feel so wronged. I’ve been so good to her. Why is she doing this to me? Her parents got sick, and I even tried to help figure things out. But she insists on divorcing me. What can I do?”

The comments flooded the screen.

[Make her return the money. She has to!]

[Not one cent less.]

[We’ve got your back. Sue her for marriage fraud.]

I turned off my phone. My hands were shaking.

The hallway was very quiet. My mother was still asleep. My father was in his hospital room. I did not know whether he was awake or asleep.

I leaned against the wall as I cried silently.

After a while, my phone vibrated again.

It was a text from Peter.

[Have you made up your mind yet? When are you giving the money back?]

I stared at the text and felt a wave of nausea.

[Your dad’s illness is incurable. Don’t waste the money. Just come home and live a normal life. That’s better than anything.]

After a few minutes, he texted me again.

[If you really can’t come up with the money, that’s fine too. You can just agree to have a few kids for me, and we’ll forget about the cash gift. I won’t even go after you for the eighteen thousand in fake bills. How about that? I’m being pretty generous, right?]

A chill ran down my spine when I read the message.

He was offering me a handout.

A handout made of counterfeit cash.

And the catch was that he wanted a baby in exchange.

I stared at the ceiling as my mind went blank.

Right at that moment, the door to the hospital room opened.

My father stood at the door, wearing a patient gown. He was holding up an IV pole.

“Dad? What are you doing out of bed?”

He did not speak. He just walked over and sat down next to me.

“Your mother is asleep. Don’t wake her.”

I looked at him. My eyes welled up.

“Dad...”

“I heard everything.”

I was stunned.

“What?”

“I was awake when you watched the livestream. The door wasn’t shut all the way. I heard everything.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

He reached out and patted the back of my hand.

“Back when you got that cash gift, your mother and I deposited it straight into the bank’s safety deposit box.

“When we put it in the safety deposit box, there was a security camera. There were receipts. The seals had your mother’s and my fingerprints on them. We have the truth on our side. We don’t have to be afraid of him.”

Just then, a nurse emerged and interrupted us.

“Where is Deborah Grant? She’s already in the early stages of liver cancer, and she still isn’t getting herself to the hospital? Weren’t the family members notified to pay the fees?”

Deborah Grant. That was Peter’s mother.

I took the form the nurse handed me with trembling hands. Only then did I realize that I had picked up the wrong diagnosis sheet earlier.

The one who had liver cancer was actually Deborah. It had not been my father.