Scarlett' POV

My brain completely short-circuited.

What was he... saying?

"You, aren't you Mr. Peterson?"

He raised an eyebrow coldly. "Who?"

"Clara Jones! Don't you know her? She's the one who referred me to buy the medicine!"

"I have twin daughters with congenital heart disease, just over two months old. I heard you have a special medicine for heart disease here."

"She said she'd already negotiated with you—four boxes for two courses of treatment, only eight hundred dollars!"

The man fell into an eerie silence.

His face, like a Greek sculpture, moved from confusion and bewilderment to annoyance, finally settling into an extreme coldness, as if someone had ruined his mood.

"Interesting."

"How did you sneak into Andrew's club? Because your tits are big enough?!"

I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning and shot to my feet.

"Mr. Peterson, please don't toy with me, okay? This isn't funny at all!"

"You just made a special trip to the hospital, wasn't it to get the special medicine for me? You even deliberately put it in the freezer!"

I questioned him incredulously, and the collar of the oversized bathrobe instantly fell open, the belt dangling precariously.

Don't panic, Scarlett.

The transaction time, address, neon sign, the characteristic of liking alcohol—it all matched. You didn't mistake him!

But the man contemptuously curved his lips and scoffed.

"I went to the hospital to bandage a wound. As for what's in the freezer..."

He opened the freezer lid with one hand. Inside were eight transparent vials arranged neatly.

"They're stem cell anti-aging injections, twenty-five thousand dollars each, belonging to my father."

My mind exploded with a boom.

It's over, all over!

I really got the wrong person. Can I still get the medicine?

At the thought that Mia and Nina might die without the medicine, tears immediately rolled down my face.

"I'm sorry, sir. I mistook you for someone else. I'll leave right now..."

The man mockingly curved his lips, his gaze brazenly roaming over my chest.

"A lactating woman running out in the middle of the night to buy medicine? Do you think I'm a three-year-old?"

"So, how much more do you want? Two thousand, or three thousand?"

With that, he pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and stuffed them into the cleavage of my chest.

My cheeks flushed red. "No, no, I'm not..."

But my hands clutched the money, reluctant to let go.

The man's gaze darkened as he lifted his toe and ground it hard against my nipple.

"Still breastfeeding your kid, yet you can't wait to come out and sell yourself, isn't it to offer special services and raise your price?"

"Whatever. I have plenty of money. Are you going to do it or not? If yes, let's do it. If not, get lost!"

"No, sir, I'm not—"

My voice caught in my throat like a fish out of water.

"Not what?" The man tilted his head, his hazel eyes full of malicious mockery.

"Not here to sell yourself? Coming to a luxury Manhattan apartment... to buy medicine?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.

I gripped the hem of my robe so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Yes, my best friend Clara told me..."

"Mr. Peterson has a special medicine for congenital heart disease, only eight hundred dollars..."

He burst into a burst of malicious cold laughter.

"Do you know what the market price is for heart disease special medicine?"

Of course I knew.

Special medicine for infant heart disease costs two hundred thousand dollars a year to maintain.

For twins, that's four hundred thousand!

Eight hundred dollars for four boxes of medicine that could last two months was ridiculously low, but Clara said Mr. Peterson was passionate about charity...

"Looking at you, your best friend can't be very rich either."

"Eight-hundred-dollar heart disease medicine—do you think manna falls from heaven?"

"No, that's impossible! Clara grew up with me. She would never harm me!"

My voice trembled uncontrollably, cold sweat running down my back.

He glanced at me with the look one gives an idiot and leisurely picked up a cigar from the coffee table and lit it.

"How old are you?"

I bit my lip and lowered my head in embarrassment. "...Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five? Ha... a full six years older than me, yet you're a big-titted idiot."

He exhaled a smoke ring, the smoke blurring his chiseled face.

"Use that waterlogged brain of yours and think carefully—is eight-hundred-dollar medicine... reasonable?"

I blushed crimson, too choked up to speak.

Could Clara really have deceived me?

Impossible. We grew up together, best friends!

"Three," he began counting down.

"What?"

"Two."

"Sir, what are you doing—"

"One."

He pulled something from the coffee table drawer and slammed it onto the surface.

It was a gun!

Black, matte, the barrel pointed right at me.

My blood froze instantly.

"Get out." He leaned back into the sofa and crossed his legs. "Or I'll help you."

I stared at the gun, my entire body trembling uncontrollably.

In the slums of Queens County, the most dangerous weapons were baseball bats and broken bottles.

In the world of the rich, could they really just kill people at will?!

"You, you... think you're so great?"

I raised my voice tremulously, bluffing.

"Nineteen years old, driving luxury cars, living in top-tier apartments—did you earn all that yourself?"

"You just happened to be born into a good family, with a rich dad!"

The corner of the man's mouth suddenly curved into an almost imperceptible arc.

Scarlett, shut up now!

But I was furious. The grievances and pain I'd accumulated these past days burst like a flood through a broken dam.

"If you were born in Queens County, born in Brooklyn, you might be selling ecstasy on the street right now, or counting days in prison!"

"You're only nineteen, squandering your parents' money, using a gun to intimidate an unarmed woman—what great skills you have!"

"Wearing expensive clothes, but your heart is rotten through! You—"

"Enough."

He stood up, his tall frame bearing down on me with overwhelming pressure.

The whites below his irises revealed a sinister, vicious light.

"For the sake of your resemblance to... get out! While I haven't changed my mind yet."

I fled through that door in a daze.

As the elevator descended, I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing.

So cowardly, Scarlett.

You were so bold with your words just now, and now your legs are weak as noodles.

If that gun was real, I would have died there today!

Rushing into the rain, icy water poured down on me.

I pulled out my phone. There were dozens of missed calls on the screen.

Some from St. Michael's Hospital, some from Clark.

I called the hospital back first. When it connected, the nurse's voice was ice-cold:

"Ms. O'Brien, your overdue payment has been outstanding for five days."

"If you cannot make up the ten thousand dollars in medical fees by tomorrow, we will have no choice but to consider transferring Mia and Nina out of the PICU."

"No! Please, give me a little more time!" I cried out in desperation. "I will definitely pay!"

"I'm sorry, those are the hospital's rules."

I stood in the rain, my entire body ice-cold.

I immediately called Clara with trepidation, praying that Mr. Peterson hadn't left yet.

"Cla..."

"Scarlett O'Brien, where did you run off to! Mr. Peterson waited for you for over an hour!"

"He's very angry. He's already left. Do you still want to buy the medicine or not!"

I apologized frantically in panic:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I, I just mistook someone else for him. Could you please ask Mr. Peterson for forgiveness on my behalf? Where is he now... I'll come right away!"

Clara sent me a location pin.

"Bill Manor. You must arrive within half an hour. Also, eight hundred is impossible now. The price has doubled!"

I shuddered violently because I'd seen this place on a law and order program.

"Clara, for the sake of us growing up together, can you tell me the truth... why would he be willing to sell me the special medicine for only eight hundred dollars?"

Clara was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. "What do you think, Scarlett?"

"If it weren't because you still have some looks, big tits and a nice ass, what boss would be willing to make this kind of losing deal?"

"Anyway, you've already broken up with Jack. What's the difference which man you sleep with?"