I let the words hang. "Could it be you're more interested in getting your hands on that money?"
Silence. Then outrage, hot and defensive.
"You're being completely unreasonable! You don't even care about your own daughter—you don't deserve to be her mother!"
In my previous life, he had used those exact words to guilt me into trading my life for cash.
Not this time.
"Whether I deserve to be her mother," I said, my voice cold and level, "is not for you to judge."
"As for the money—I'll handle it. Don't trouble yourself."
I hung up before he could respond.
Let's see you try to steal my daughter's lifeline without your black magic, Elijah.
I found a deserted corner and scratched off every ticket in the stack.
One of them hit fifty million dollars.
I didn't rush to claim the prize. Instead, I went back to the hospital to check on my daughter.
When I entered the room, Nora was awake.
She lay in her bed, so small, so fragile. Her skin was flushed an unnatural red across every visible inch of her body.
The hallmark of a butterfly child. Skin as delicate as a butterfly's wing—the slightest touch could raise blisters, tear it open.
She saw me and whispered, "Mommy." Even that small effort was careful, measured. She was afraid of pulling at the skin on her face.
My eyes burned. I blinked hard to keep the tears from falling.
In my previous life, we couldn't afford the surgery. The delay let infection spread across her body, and she slipped away in the ICU.
She was four and a half years old.
This time, even if it costs me everything, I will protect my daughter.
After staying with her for a while, I went to the nurses' station and hired a senior caregiver with fifteen years of pediatric nursing experience.
I gave her strict instructions—she was not to leave my daughter's side for even a moment.
In my previous life, I didn't learn the truth until after Nora was gone.
The reason she'd had that accident, the skin abrasion that led to the infection—it was because Elijah had devoted all his attention to his precious first love and her son.
He'd promised to watch over our daughter, but his negligence had been criminal.
She could have held on longer. She should have had more time.
He was the one truly responsible for her death.
With Nora properly cared for now, some of the weight lifted from my chest.
It was time to make my next move.
By the time I got home, darkness had fallen.