A sickly-sweet wave of perfume snapped me back to reality.

Becky clung to Samuel’s arm, her tone coy and delicate.

“Sam, don’t be mad. It’s all in the past.”

Her mocking gaze swept over my son and me, lingering on our worn-out clothes, her pity barely concealed.

“She looks pretty miserable now. Left you to find a rich man, only to fail again.”

She swayed Samuel’s arm playfully.

“Sam, why don’t we help her out? It’s just sixty thousand dollars—not even the price of one of my bags.”

She sighed dramatically. “I just can’t stand seeing a child so pitiful. Not only is he illegitimate, but he can’t even afford a cheap toy.”

Though she sounded like she was pleading on my behalf, every word was a reminder to Samuel that I had left him for money, moved on without hesitation, and had another man’s child.

The flicker of resentment and hesitation in Samuel’s eyes was instantly replaced by cold indifference.

He let go of me and shoved me away hard.

Then, with a gentleness that felt like a mockery, he pulled Becky into his arms.

“You’re just too softhearted and kind. A woman this scheming and ruthless doesn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy.”

Samuel curled his lips, as if mocking himself or maybe me.

“What’s the point of treating her well? In the end, she’ll just toss you aside like you never mattered.”

I staggered, barely keeping my balance.

The medical report in my hand slipped to the ground.

Becky picked it up, glanced at it, then gasped in exaggerated shock.

“Kidney failure?”

Samuel’s expression darkened in an instant as he snatched the report from her hands.

Becky turned to me, feigning surprise.

"Loretta, you really went all out... Carrying around a medical report while shopping and even coaching your son to block the way and call Sam ‘Daddy.’"

Whatever trace of doubt or concern had flickered in Samuel’s eyes slowly faded with those words.

Without hesitation, he flung the report at me, the papers scattering all over.

"Six years apart, and your tricks have only gotten more disgusting! Your child is so unlucky to have a shameless mother like you."

My son couldn’t hold back anymore.

He burst into tears and lunged forward, fists clenched, trying to hit Samuel.

"You’re a big meanie! A horrible person! Mommy is the best! You’re not allowed to talk about her like that!"

I rushed to pull him back, but I was a second too late.

Becky’s eyes flashed, and in the next instant, she bent down and slapped him hard.

The force sent him stumbling into my arms.

His fair little cheek swelled up instantly, a red mark spreading across his soft skin.

His lip split at the corner, blood seeping out.

Rage consumed me.

I lost all reason, shot to my feet, and swung my hand at Becky.

But before I could land the slap, Samuel caught my wrist in a crushing grip.

He squeezed so hard that pain shot through my bones, an audible crack echoing in the air.

Becky seized the moment, shrinking against Samuel’s shoulder, her body trembling as if she had just been terrified.

"I’m sorry, Sam," she whimpered. "I thought her son went crazy. I panicked and just reacted!

"It’s all my fault. If you want, you can let Loretta slap me back..."

Samuel glared at me, fury burning in his eyes.

"A fatherless brat with only a mother to raise him, yet Becky is still kind enough to pity you!"

He sneered, insisting that I must have taught my son to stage this whole scene.

Getting hit was just an excuse to extort money.

"Loretta Lee, isn’t sixty thousand dollars what you wanted? Apologize to Becky right now, and I’ll lend it to you."

The fire inside me instantly died the moment he mentioned money.

I lowered my head, swallowing the bitterness and pain that threatened to spill over.

For my son, I had no choice but to bow my head.

"I'm sorry."

I forced the words out to Becky, my tears falling onto my shoes—only my son noticed.

He stretched his little arms as far as he could, wiping my face with his small hands.

But Samuel never kept his promise.

Instead, he chuckled lowly, a cruel satisfaction lacing his voice.

"I was just playing with you. You should get a taste of the darkness and despair I once went through."

I bit my lip hard, my eyes filled with agony.

But he only scoffed. "If things are so bad, why don’t you just toss this burden aside like you did me?

"Maybe this little thing will get lucky, just like I did, and find a miracle."

With that, Samuel took Becky’s hand and walked away without a second glance.

I collapsed onto the ground, numbly gathering the scattered medical report.

He still had no idea.

The miracle he believed in... was the kidney I gave him.

I still remember that day when I rushed home, eager to tell Samuel the good news about my kidney being a match.

As for the ultrasound confirming my pregnancy, I had already torn it to pieces and tossed it in the trash.

For the man I loved, I had made my choice.

I would secretly terminate the pregnancy and proceed with the transplant surgery.

But the moment I stepped through the door, what awaited me was Samuel lying in a pool of blood.

A handwritten suicide note sat on the table.

He wrote that he couldn’t bear to watch the girl he loved wither away.

He refused to drag me into debt just to prolong his suffering and ruin my chances to have a good life.

He mentioned because he loved me more than he loved himself, he chose to end it—slitting his wrists so that both of us could be freed from this misery.

Samuel’s condition was severe.

Even with a transplant, the doctors warned there was no guarantee he’d fully recover, and having children in the future would be nearly impossible.

This was his way of protecting me.

It was his final, desperate choice.

I sobbed as I rushed him to the emergency room.

When he finally woke up, I slapped him across the face.

"Samuel Shaw, I’ve been wanting to divorce you for a long time! You really think I’m that stupid? That I’d willingly spend my life suffering with you?

"Don’t you dare use suicide to guilt trip me! I’m not falling for it!"

I lied.

I told him I was working at a bar and already hooked up with a rich heir.

I would never forget the look on his face—shattered, hollow.

It was the second time I ever saw Samuel cry.

The first was at his parents’ funeral.

He signed the divorce papers and told me I was free.

It wasn’t until I left the hospital and got into a cab that I finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

If I hadn’t done it this way, Samuel would have never accepted my kidney.

So, I hid away and gave birth to my son.

My body had barely recovered before I was back on the operating table.

Just before death could take him, I saved Samuel.

…

That night, memories of the past haunted me in my sleep.

In my nightmare, the one lying in a pool of blood wasn’t Samuel—it was my son.

I woke up in a cold sweat, drained in every way, but I still had to go to work.

Giving birth and immediately undergoing kidney transplant surgery had left my body severely weakened.

If not for my best friend, Rachel Song, who managed a hotel and took me in, offering me a stable job and extra care, I might not have even had this opportunity.

That was why I cherished my job so much.

Tonight, the hotel was fully booked for a private birthday party.

I was swamped with work when the supervisor rushed over, out of breath.

"A few rich kids snuck out to play, got into an argument with your son, and dragged him into a private room to beat him up!"

The tray in my hands slipped, shattering on the floor.

Panic gripped me as I sprinted toward the private room.

But the moment I saw the scene inside, my face went red with rage.

My son, bruised and bloodied, his lip split open, was surrounded by three boys, no older than seven or eight, who were kicking and punching him.

One of them had grabbed a champagne bottle, trying to force it into his mouth.

I lunged forward, shoving them away, my palm landing hard and fast on them in a blind fury.

Jewelry-clad socialites gasped in horror as they rushed in, shielding their children.

Samuel’s brows furrowed deeply the moment he saw me, my hair disheveled and my face flushed with rage.

Behind him, Becky followed closely, dressed in an extravagant princess gown, a diamond-studded birthday crown perched on her head.

Her expression turned pitiful as she took in the shattered glass, the injured children, and the chaotic mess.

"Loretta, did you find out today was my birthday and deliberately bring your son here to stir up trouble? Were you trying to ruin the celebration Sam planned just for me?"

I had no interest in arguing with her.

Instead, I turned to the well-dressed women standing nearby.

"Your kids attacked my son. Pay for his medical expenses."

Samuel’s initial look of concern vanished, replaced by fury.

"Loretta Lee, are you seriously this relentless? If you can’t get money out of me one way, you just find another excuse to haunt me?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

"That’s right. It’s just sixty thousand dollars. Since you’re so rich, think of it as a tip."

Samuel’s cold sneer deepened.

Without warning, he grabbed me and dragged me toward the champagne tower.

"You want my sixty thousand dollars? Fine! Every glass you drink, I’ll give you two thousand dollars. Drink as much as you want, and I’ll pay accordingly!"

I glanced at my son curled up on the couch, his small body trembling.

Without hesitation, I grabbed a glass and downed it in one gulp.

I downed one glass, then another… and finally, the tenth.

I drank too fast.

The alcohol burned down my throat, stinging my nose.

The liquid spilled over, dripping down my face, soaking my hair, and mixing with my tears.

All around me, I could feel the scornful gazes of onlookers, watching as if I were some pathetic spectacle.

Becky covered her mouth, but the mockery and glee in her eyes were impossible to hide.

At that moment, I felt stripped of every ounce of dignity, utterly humiliated.

I had no idea how many glasses I had downed.

My stomach churned violently, my body swaying.

Then, my son rushed forward, clutching my leg, his tear-streaked face flushed red.

“Mommy, stop drinking! I don’t want treatment anymore—please, no more! You’re all horrible! Stop bullying my mommy!”

"Enough!" Samuel finally snapped.

He grabbed my wrist and, in one swift motion, swiped the entire table of drinks onto the floor.

My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

"What a shame… I only drank enough for thirty thousand dollars…"

Samuel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fine. Fine! Waiter! Bring me every bottle you have!”

Before the waiter could respond, Rachel burst into the room.

"Mr. Shaw! Loretta has kidney issues—she can’t process alcohol properly! Do you want to kill her?"

Samuel froze for a second, then scoffed, his face turning cold again.

"This is just another one of your sob stories, isn’t it?"

Samuel took the glass of wine handed to him and flung it straight at my face.

Dizzy and disoriented, I could no longer stay on my feet and collapsed onto the floor.

"First, you lie about your son having kidney failure. Now, suddenly, it’s your kidneys that are failing?"

He grabbed another glass and poured it over my head, the liquid drenching me from top to bottom.

"At least get your story straight with your little friend before trying to pull this pathetic stunt!"

Rachel snapped, calling him insane as she tore off her coat and draped it over me.

"Loretta donated a kidney to you six years ago! The surgery records are all there! Do you want to see them?"