Chapter 3
The cemetery.
Fat raindrops hammered down, soaking Sophia to the bone.
She wore a thin black mourning dress and knelt ramrod straight in front of Raina's freshly engraved headstone. In the photo, Raina smiled with innocent joy. Sophia's own face was white as death.
Icy rain slid down her hair, stealing away what little warmth she had left.
Her stomach felt like it was being torn apart by a thousand needles. Wave after wave of sharp, twisting pain nearly knocked her unconscious.
Not far away, a black Bentley sat idling. The window rolled down, revealing James's cold profile.
He held a cigarette between his fingers. The red ember glowed and dimmed in the darkness of the car.
Time dragged on. Sophia's awareness began to blur, her senses going numb.
So cold. So much pain. She couldn't hold on much longer.
A metallic sweetness surged up her throat. She couldn't stop it. Blood spilled from her lips, dark red splattering the ground before the rain washed it away.
Inside the car, James frowned slightly.
But he didn't move.
He told himself she deserved this. That she owed it to Ray.
Sophia's body swayed. Finally, she collapsed face-first into the mud.
In her last moment of consciousness, she thought she saw her mother's gentle smile.
"Mom..."
When she woke up, a nurse was changing her IV. Her tone was sharp. "Oh, you're awake? You've got some nerve. Your stomach's a mess and you went out in the rain? You trying to kill yourself?"
Stomach?
Sophia pushed herself upright, her voice hoarse. "What's wrong with me?"
"You can't feel it?" The nurse gave her a look. "Acute gastric bleeding. If you'd gotten here any later, not even God could've saved you."
After the nurse left, an older doctor walked in holding a report. The look in his eyes was complicated, tinged with pity.
"I need to be straight with you. The test results aren't good."
"Preliminary diagnosis is advanced gastric cancer."
Lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating Sophia's paper-white face.
Advanced gastric cancer.
The words hit like a sledgehammer. Her mind went blank. Her ears rang. She couldn't hear anything else.
How could this be?
She was only twenty-four.
The doctor sighed. "Of course, this is just preliminary. We'll need a biopsy to confirm. But you should prepare yourself."
With that, the doctor and nurse left the room.
In Sophia's mind, James's cruel face surfaced. She let out a bitter laugh.
The moment she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, the stubborn love she'd clung to for him seemed to die too.
She had to survive.
For her mother, who was still waiting for her to save her life.
She needed money. A lot of it. For her mother's surgery. For her own treatment.
James wouldn't give it to her. She could only rely on herself.
But she had nothing left. She was weighed down by false accusations. What could she possibly do?
A thought suddenly flashed through her mind.
Painting.
She still had her gift for art. It was the only lifeline she could grasp.
With what little money she had left, she rented a cheap room near the hospital, bought a set of basic art supplies, and picked up a secondhand phone.
She created a livestream account. No promotion. No warm-up. She just went live.
The camera pointed at the canvas. She picked up her brush.
In that moment, the timid, broken Sophia disappeared.
Her hand was steady. Her use of color was bold and harmonious. In just half an hour, a vibrant sunflower field bloomed across the canvas.
The bright yellow seemed capable of chasing away all darkness and pain.
At first, only a handful of people watched. But soon, they were captivated by her stunning skill. The viewer count began to climb.
[This color, this light—is the host an art professor or something?]
[This painting made my whole day brighter! Are you selling it? I'll pay five thousand!]
[Five thousand? Are you kidding? This level of work is worth at least fifty grand.]
Reading the comments, Sophia felt a flicker of hope. She painted faster, as if pouring all the light and heat left in her life into the brush.
By the end of the stream, over a thousand people were watching. Several buyers had messaged her privately, offering high prices for her work.
She saw a way to make money. A way to save her mother.
But that hope lasted only one day.
The next day, when she went live again, disaster struck.
A flood of haters swarmed her stream, hurling the vilest insults.
[Plagiarist! This composition is stolen from Raina's work!]
[How dare you rip off a dead woman's ideas and sell them for money?]
Sophia froze.
Raina had painted sunflowers too?
She didn't remember that at all.
Before she could defend herself, an official warning popped up on the platform.
[Warning: Your livestream content has been flagged for copyright infringement and has been forcibly shut down.]
Then the platform called. They informed her that due to the "plagiarism" causing serious damage, she would not only be permanently banned but also fined one million dollars in penalty fees.
One million.
Sophia clutched her phone, ice flooding her veins.
She hadn't made any money. Now she was drowning in debt.
It had to be James.
Only he had the power to destroy her last shred of hope this quickly.
He was blocking off every escape route she had.
Despair swallowed her whole.
Just then, her phone rang. An unknown number.
She answered numbly. A cold female voice came through.
"Hello, this is the hospital billing department. Your mother's account is overdue. Please pay the surgical fees within twenty-four hours."
"Otherwise, we'll have to suspend all treatment."
