On the day Zachary Lake stands at the pinnacle of global technology, accepting his award, I'm lying in a hospital bed, abandoned by doctors because I can't afford treatment for kidney failure.

On TV, the host asks him to call the person he's most grateful for. Without hesitation, he dials my number.

"Shannon, do you regret leaving me?" he asks.

I clutch the astronomical medical bill in my hand, the paper crumpling beneath my fingers. Forcing a light tone, I reply, "Can you take me on as your kept woman now that you're a big deal?"

On screen, his face remains expressionless as he hangs up without a word. Then, his cold voice pierces through the broadcast. "Now, I have nothing to feel grateful for."

But what he doesn't know is that when he was on the brink of death years ago, I was the one who gave him my kidney.

After Zachary Lake's interview aired, the name Shannon Morrison became a lightning rod for public fury. It was a story of a heartless gold-digger and a brilliant, wronged young man.

People loved a good reversal-of-fortune story, the kind where tides turned over time, and karma finally catches up. This one fitted the mold perfectly.

Thankfully, I was just an ordinary nobody, so the wave of online witch hunts hadn't quite reached me… yet. Still, the internet was alive with speculation, with most of it cruel and aimed right at me.

"Stop reading that." Dr. Yuri Shaw, my attending physician, gently pulled the phone from my hands and shook his head.

"I'll help you apply for hospital assistance. It's not time to give up just yet."

His voice was kind and steady, like a lifeline I could hold onto.

I gave him a faint smile and shook my head. Right now, he might be the only person in this world who still wanted me to live.

"No need," I said softly. "There's no point anymore."

I steadied my breathing and turned to leave. The door creaked open until it was just a crack, and then I saw a familiar figure not too far away.

Even after five years, I could recognize that silhouette in a crowd without hesitation. I calmed my nerves. I wasn't ready to meet Zachary face to face.

I reached for the door, ready to shut it and retreat, but before I could, a man waiting nearby yanked the door wide open.

"Why are you dawdling around?" he snapped.

Due to inertia and the constant pain wracking my body, my legs gave out, and I fell to the ground. The commotion drew everyone's attention—including Zachary's.

Supporting myself against the wall, I struggled to stand up, desperate to flee. Unfortunately, his hand gripped my wrist tightly.

"What's this? You're bold enough to stalk me now?"

He was breathless from running. I looked at him through the strands of hair clinging to my forehead.

He looked healthy and strong. His recovery progress must've been quite smooth.

Five years ago, our careers had just started to take off. However, fate played a cruel joke on us.

The endless nights, back-to-back meetings, and drinking sessions with investors finally caught up to him. He was diagnosed with uremia.

Dialysis and medication bled us dry. Investors pulled out as soon as word got out. To pay his medical bills, I ran the company by day and worked multiple jobs by night.

But life didn't always reward sacrifice. All our determination and holding on never brought us a donor. It never gave us a miracle.

On that winter night five years ago, when the first snow began to fall, I got the call. Zachary was dying. Yuri was the attending physician then, too.

He looked at me—hollow-eyed and worn to the bone—and didn't even have the heart to hand me the paperwork.

"Is there nothing else I can do?" I asked, voice trembling. I dropped to my knees and clutched his white coat, begging him.

"A suitable donor is nearly impossible to find, and voluntary matches are even rarer. Ms. Morrison, I…"

"I—can I be tested? Do you think I can be a match?"

Later, Yuri told me he'd only agreed because I looked like someone on the brink of collapse. But to his surprise, the match between me and Zachary actually came back positive.

"Well, say something. You were so smug over the phone earlier."

Noticing my silence, Zachary's grip on my wrist tightened further. I gasped in pain, which caused his brows to twitch.

"Hey… isn't that Zachary Lake? The guy from TV?"

"It really looks like him. Wait, is that woman with him Shannon Morrison, that shameless one?"

The commotion drew the attention of the surrounding crowd, and they soon spotted and recognized Zachary. In my panic, I let down my hair to cover my face and struggled to pull free from his grasp.

However, that only seemed to enrage him further.

In the struggle, my bag slipped from my shoulder, crashing to the floor. My stack of medical records spilled out from within.

He bent down, picked up a piece of paper, and scanned the page. Then, his lips curled into a cold, bitter smile.

"Renal failure?" he sneered. "Shannon, do you have no shame? You left me back then because of my illness, and now you're faking one to get me back?"

I bit down hard on my lip. The sting grounded me as I silently prayed for this cruel scene to be over.

"It's fine," I told myself in my head. "You chose this path, didn't you? Just hold on a little longer. Just a little more."

I repeated those words in my head like a chant, bracing myself, only for him to drag me straight into the center of the waiting room.

He yanked my hair back, exposing my face for those in the room to take pictures or videos as they pleased. A sharp pain split across my lips, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

Still, I held back the tears stinging my eyes. I wouldn't give them that. At the very least, I wanted to keep the last shred of my dignity.

"Zachary? What are you doing?"

A woman stepped into the center of the chaos. I looked up and instantly recognized her: Mildred Jameson, Zachary's current rumored girlfriend and rising star in the entertainment industry.

She was smart—one glance around, and she seemed to understand what was going on.

"You said you were coming with me to the doctor. What? So, you disappeared for a little drama of your own?"

"Ms. Jameson, that's Shannon Morrison—the one who tried to seduce your boyfriend for money!"

The crowd cackled with delight. Mockery filled the air, sharp and ugly. Somewhere in the crowd, someone lobbed an empty soda can that smacked against the side of my head.

The shock hit me like a slap. Even my breathing became uneven.

Zachary stood close, close enough for me to see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Maybe he finally noticed how unwell I looked.

"You…"

Pain surged within me again, blacking out the edges of my vision. I waved him off, signaling him to leave me alone.

"Zachary, perhaps you should take her to the hospital. Kidney disease isn't exactly easy to fake. It's unlikely that she's acting."

"Oh, she knows exactly how painful this disease is," Zachary replied.

Just like that, with a few well-placed words, Mildred wiped away what little sympathy he might have had. Zachary scoffed and pulled out a check, thrusting it into her hand like it was done out of spite.

"Millie, your stomach's been acting up, right? Here's 200 thousand for you to get some supplements."

Then, he turned to me and flung a hospital bill right into my face.

"See this, Shannon? The money you dreamed of—I can throw it around like nothing now. Do you regret leaving me over it?"

I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself upright. The sharp bite of pain was the only thing keeping my rational side in check.

"Mr. Lake, you sure are wealthy. Would you mind lending me some money?"

"Unbelievable."

He stared at me, lips twitching in irritation. When I refused to beg, refused to crumble, he turned away with a sneer and walked off with Mildred.

I watched them go, their backs receding into the crowd. I let out a bitter smile. Then, steadying myself against the wall, I stood up.

In the wake of whispers and accusations, I walked away alone, heading in the opposite direction.

Inside Zachary's body was one of my kidneys, but he didn't know that. Dr. Shaw once suggested telling him, especially after I began to suffer complications from the surgery.

"Why not just tell him? He has everything now. If nothing else, you could save your own life."

"Dr. Shaw, his father died saving me." With a sigh, I finally told him the truth behind the tangled mess that bound Zachary and me together.

His mother had passed away early. Zachary was raised by his father, who was a firefighter. He was kind, strong, and full of honor.

When I was 14, my home caught fire. My parents threw themselves over me, shielding me from the flames.

Zachary's father came charging in through the inferno and pulled me out. However, he never made it back out himself.

I owed Zachary a life. So, when we found out I was a matching donor, I signed the donation form without hesitation.

He was just like his father, who was a man of dignity and honor. If I had told him the truth, he would never have accepted my kidney.

Hence, I chose the ugliest excuse I could think of and broke up with him. I told him I'd found a wealthy man who was willing to be my sugar daddy, someone who would give me the life of luxury I'd always dreamed of.

"No… Shan, you're not that kind of person."

"I am exactly that kind of person!" To hide the pain twisting my face, I turned away from him. On the windowsill, a sunflower had withered. I wasn't even sure when it had died.

"Zachary, people change. I'm tired of your weak body. I'm tired of our endless grind. When you got that critical diagnosis the other month, I realized I can't keep living in fear of losing you."

"I can live with the breakup, but how could you… for money…" he said in a hoarse voice.

"Why not?" I snapped. "Wasn't all that effort, all those sleepless nights—wasn't it all for a shot at a better life?

"Well, I made it. Overnight. You should be happy for me." My voice was already shaking by the time I got to the end of the sentence.

I continued, "This is it, Zachary. Goodbye. Let's never see each other again."

The bus arrival announcement pulled me out of my brooding.

I returned to my shared apartment. It was a small room with terrible insulation—too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. Even using a high-powered electric cooker would cause a power outage.

Still, my roommate was kind. She knew I was sick and looked out for me as best as she could.

"Shannon, that woman on TV… that wasn't you, right?"

I nodded and gave Wendy Smith a faint smile. "Yeah, that was me. The gold-digger everyone's talking about. You should probably—"

"What are you saying? You're the one who took me in after my dad kicked me out. You fed and clothed me. You're the reason I got back on my feet!

"There's no way you're that kind of person. This has to be a misunderstanding!"

Her words blurred the edges of my vision. To be honest, I hadn't cried much since leaving Zachary.

With a body like mine, just staying alive already took everything I had. I just didn't have the spare energy left for tears.

But now, for some reason, the injustice stung more than I expected. Before I could let more than a few tears fall, my phone rang.

It was the manager from my part-time job. Because my face and identity were exposed, the store decided to let me go, and I lost my only source of income.

I slumped into a chair, closed my eyes, and let the silence settle in. The darkness inside me was slow and suffocating, slowly eating away at my soul.

"Shannon, don't worry," Wendy said, clutching my hand tightly. "My boss at my workplace is pretty nice. I'll talk to him for you."

"Okay. Thank you."

I nodded and looked out of the window, letting my eyes rest on the cloudless, brilliant blue sky. It was such a beautiful day.