Hope That Fades, Love That Dies

The third year after my death, Matt came back.  

The boy who once couldn't even scrape together three hundred bucks, had transformed into a ruthless business tycoon.  

And this time, he was back just to watch me fall apart.  

He wanted to see me devastated, begging for his mercy.  

But what he didn’t know was—I had already died three years ago.  

——

Every LED screen in the city was flickering—broadcasting the same headline. Matt Harding returned to town.

A swarm of reporters followed him from the airport all the way to the entrance of the Harding Corporation building.  

And in the middle of the crowd, I spotted my deaf and mute father.  

Of course, Matt saw him too.  

His assistant even made a point of letting my father push through the crowd.  

Dad gestured frantically in sign language, his expression full of urgency.  

Matt remained indifferent.  

“It’s been three years and your precious daughter still hasn’t gotten you treated?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like she hasn’t been doing so well after all.”  

The disdain in his eyes was unmistakable. His tone, his posture—it was as if he were looking at a piece of trash.  

Dad continued to sign, sweat beading on his forehead in desperation.  

Matt let out a cold chuckle. “I don’t have time to waste on you.”  

Then, in one final, desperate move, my father dropped to his knees.  

Every reporter instantly turned their cameras toward him. Flashes flickered endlessly, illuminating his helpless form. Still, Dad kept signing, his hands trembling with urgency.  

Matt frowned.  

He didn’t understand sign language.  But he knew one sign—money.

“Are you asking for money?” he guessed.  

Dad nodded immediately.  

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Who the hell is this guy? Begging for money here, of all places?”

“You don’t know? He used to be someone—he was the president of the Foster Corporation.”

“Foster Corporation? Didn’t they go bankrupt three years ago?”

“Yeah, and you know why? Because his daughter, Laura, dumped Mr. Harding for being poor! Serves them right—karma’s a bitch.”

“And now he has the nerve to show up here begging for money? Disgusting.”

The reporters passed the story along like wildfire. Within minutes, everyone had memorized every detail.

Matt, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying the show. A cruel smirk played at the corner of his lips.

“And what makes you think I’d give you money?” He sneered. “I’m not Brian.”

Brian Heath. The man I had left Matt for.

Back then, the Foster Family was already crumbling. The only way to stabilize our standing was through a marriage alliance with the Heath.

I still remember—Matt’s father was sick at the time. It was when he needed me the most. And yet, I had abandoned him without hesitation. I had wanted to make sure he would give up on me completely.

So I said things—things I knew would hurt him the most. And now that he had built his empire, the first thing he did was come back—

Just to watch me suffer.

“You want money? Fine,” Matt said, staring directly at my father.

“But let Laura come and beg me herself.”

His voice was slow, deliberate, as if savoring every word.

“Just like you’re doing now.”

Dad trembled on his knees, his hands still forming desperate pleas.

Matt tilted his head, a glint of mockery in his eyes.

“Or is it that Miss Foster only lowers herself for the Heath?” He chuckled coldly. “Because, if I remember correctly… the Heath isn’t all that impressive either.”

His gaze turned icy, towering over my father like a vengeful god.

“Mr. Harding,” a hesitant voice chimed in. One of the reporters. “I think… he’s saying his wife is gravely ill and needs money for treatment. Laura once invested in your company and he’s hoping to withdraw that money back.”