Alyssa's POV
When I didn't respond, Luke continued on his own, "Alright, don't be mad. I've got good news. Actually, I'm a billionaire."
I blinked, wondering if I'd misheard him.
"A billionaire?" I echoed.
He nodded, completely unfazed, like he'd just told me we were out of milk. "Yep. All these years, I've been faking autism, racking up debt, just to see if you were worthy of being my wife."
I stood there, frozen. My mind went blank.
He pulled out his phone and flashed me his bank app. Line after line of zeros filled the screen—too many to count.
My grip tightened around the suitcase handle.
"Worthy?" The word felt heavy, like something sour on my tongue.
Luke adjusted his cuff, wearing that smug little smile I had come to loathe.
"You should be grateful," he said, like I owed him something. "My family's wealth goes back generations. All you had to do was make it through three years of testing. And now, look. You passed. It's all yours."
I just stared at him, too stunned to speak. My brain was still trying to catch up.
He frowned at my silence. "What, still mad? Fine. Name your price. How much are three years of your life worth?"
Then he reached toward me.
I stepped back, bumping into the bookshelf. Papers toppled to the floor—old documents fluttering everywhere: ultrasound printouts, medical reports.
Miscarriage notices.
For a second, everything slowed.
Then, the sudden ring of my phone broke the silence.
Luke glanced at the screen, a soft smile unconsciously appearing on his lips. For a moment, I thought I saw the man who once loved me deeply.
But now, all his love had gone to the woman who should have been called his 'stepmother.'
"What's the point of keeping these scraps of paper? They're not worth much," Luke said, glancing at the documents.
He then turned his gaze back to me, his tone shifting. "Regina is pregnant, Alyssa. Even though you had a miscarriage, at least you’ve had some experience. Come with me to the hospital to take care of her."
Luke carelessly stepped on the yellowed ultrasound sheet, the one that displayed a normal fetal heartbeat.
I couldn't help but sneer.
Six years ago, Luke's father passed away, and now his stepmother, Regina, is pregnant.
God, he must have forgotten.
I've always been the kind of person who either wants nothing or wants everything.
Back then, I was willing to give him everything. I used to wake up at 3 a.m., kneading dough in a cold kitchen just to make him hand-pulled noodles because he craved them.
But now? Now, I could slap the divorce papers in his smug face without hesitation.
I didn't want to dwell on Luke or his strange relationship with his so-called stepmother, Regina.
I just wanted to leave.
"I want a divorce—" I started.
But the words barely left my mouth before the room spun. The last thing I saw before everything went black was Luke's panicked expression.
"Alyssa!" I heard him shout.
...
When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed.
Luke sat beside me, stirring a bowl of cold porridge as if he were waiting for the curtain call in a play he didn't even want to be in.
"The doctor said you fainted from stress and fatigue," he said flatly. "Don't joke about divorce again. Next time, I won't forgive you so easily."
As if this were all just one more episode in some sitcom, he thought he was starring in.
He kept going. "Your knee needs surgery. I already called your parents. They will come here to take care of you. Just rest, alright?"
I didn't have time to respond.
A nurse's voice rang out from the hallway. "Sir Luke, Miss Regina's not feeling well!"
Luke shot to his feet and walked out without a second glance.
...
A few hours later, I was rushed into the operating room, the bright, sterile lights above me blurring as I was hastily wheeled onto the table. Midway through the surgery, the lead surgeon was abruptly called away, leaving a newly arrived intern to take over.
His hands trembled as he adjusted the instruments.
"Sorry," the intern muttered, his voice shaky. "An important patient needs a full consultation with all the hospital specialists."
Before I could fully process his words, the sudden, shrill sound of the operating room alarm pierced the air, reverberating off the cold, clinical walls.
And then, everything went black.
...
When I finally regained consciousness, I slowly drifted out of the anesthesia, the world around me fuzzy and cold.
Through the haze, I saw the intern hovering over me, his hands trembling as he desperately tried—and failed—to stop the bleeding.
Blood was everywhere. His face was pale, panic-stricken, like a child caught in a lie.
Out of the blue, my mother burst into the room.
She didn't waste a second as she pushed my gurney into the VIP ward, where a dozen doctors stood frozen.
Right there, my mother dropped to her knees in the middle of the sterile room and began slamming her forehead against the floor.
Over and over.
"Please! Please save my daughter!" my mom cried, her voice hoarse and cracking. "She's still so young… please…"
Her hands trembled as she pressed them together in a desperate plea.
In the doorway, Regina clung to Luke's sleeve as if she might collapse at any moment.
"Luke," she said softly, "let the doctors go back."
She paused, then added with a bitter smile, "After all, I'm just carrying a child no one else can see. How could that possibly compare to Alyssa..."
Luke stopped in his tracks, then gently wrapped an arm around Regina, turning to me with a chilling calm in his eyes.
"Stop pretending, Alyssa," he said coldly. "I spoke to the doctors. Your leg's not that serious."
Sweating bullets, the intern suddenly bolted.
"I need a chainsaw!" he shouted down the hallway. "The patient's right leg is necrotic—immediate amputation!"
The room went dead still.
A second later, my father stormed in, grabbed the intern by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"My daughter only has a fractured bone!" he shouted, his fists trembling. "How could you suddenly want to amputate her leg? What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Regina lunged between them, shielding the intern like he was made of porcelain.
"Don't hurt him!" she shrieked. "My brother might be an intern, but he's still a real medical student! He studied for eight years! How can you treat him like this? If Alyssa's body's falling apart, how's that his fault!"
Then, her sweet and gentle mask slipped off as she bluntly asked, "You're not trying to extort money, are you?"
