Chapter 4
Cassandra's POV
I stood outside the hotel presidential suite door, trembling as I knocked.
The door opened.
Damien stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a black silhouette against the light, expression unreadable.
"You came." He didn't turn around.
I carefully entered the room, then froze.
Three strange men sat on the sofa.
They wore expensive suits, but their eyes were greedy and evil, like hungry wolves eyeing prey.
"Who are these people?" I looked at Damien in shock. "You promised to help me..."
"I promised to give you money," he turned around, cruel satisfaction curving his lips, "but I never said I'd touch something this DIRTY."
My blood ran cold.
"Don't you want to save your daughter?" He stepped closer. "Prove to me how much you love her."
One of the men stood up, licking his lips: "This is her?"
"Three hundred thousand dollars, one night." Damien's voice was emotionless. "She's all yours."
"No..." I shook my head frantically. "It's not like this... Damien, you can't..."
"I can't what?" He grabbed my hair. "Still playing pure? Aren't you good at pleasing men in bed?"
"Please... I thought..." Tears rolled down my face.
"Thought I'd forget you and that man in MY bed?" Hatred burned in his eyes. "You think I'd still touch a SLUT who's been used by countless men?"
So... this is how much he hated me.
Three years later, his hatred hadn't diminished—it had grown deeper. In his eyes, I wasn't even human anymore, just trash to be trampled.
I wanted to run, but Lily's pale, weak face appeared before my eyes. This was her only hope.
"Do your job, Cassandra." Damien headed for the door. "This is what you OWE me."
The door slammed shut.
I closed my eyes, letting darkness swallow me.
For Lily... anything.
The next morning, I left the hotel in pain, heading straight to the hospital.
Every step pulled at my injuries, but I didn't care. I clutched the bank card tightly—$300,000, Lily's life-saving money.
Walking into the children's hospital lobby, I deliberately pulled my cap low, not wanting anyone to see my face clearly.
Last night's nightmare still left marks on my body, the humiliation branded into my heart.
I told myself it was all worth it. As long as Lily could live.
Walking toward the finance department, I heard children arguing from the ward building.
I followed the sound and saw several older kids surrounding Lily through the glass window.
"Your mom is a bad woman!" a boy pointed at Lily loudly.
"I saw it online! She did DISGUSTING things!"
"A whore who'll do anything for money!"
Lily cowered in the corner, her little face red: "You're lying! My mommy isn't bad!"
Online? What online?
My heart pounded as I tremblingly pulled out my phone.
Trending #1: [Ex-con socialite sells body for money, shocking footage exposed]
The screen showed photos of me from last night—the marks magnified in close-ups, and secretly filmed video clips.
The comments were even worse:
"DISGUSTING! This woman will do anything for money!"
"Once a murderer, always a murderer—no bottom line!"
"What would her kid think seeing this?"
My phone slipped from my hands, shattering on the floor.
Damien... so you calculated even this.
"My mommy is the BEST mommy in the world!" Lily cried loudly. "You can't say bad things about her!"
I covered my mouth, tears burst forth.
My daughter, my poor daughter, still defending me.
But I no longer deserved to be her mother.
I turned to flee but was recognized by a nurse.
"Aren't you that... Cassandra Whitmore from online?" The nurse looked at me with disgust.
I froze, feeling contemptuous stares from all around.
"Mommy!"
Lily had run out and crashed into my arms.
"Mommy, you came to see me!" She raised her pale little face, eyes shining. "I knew you'd come!"
"Lily..." I held her tight, tears streaming. "Mommy's sorry..."
"Why is mommy apologizing?" She looked confused. "You came to save me, right?"
I couldn't answer, only held her tighter.
Even if the whole world despised me, at least she still believed in me.
"I'm here for admission procedures." I told the nurse, handing over the bank card. "This has three hundred thousand."
The nurse took the card, her expression slightly softening: "Follow me."
While processing paperwork, my phone rang.
Dr. Rodriguez calling.
"Ms. Whitmore," the doctor's voice was heavy, "I'm sorry to inform you... the scheduled donor died in a car accident last night."
