"I've already talked to Angelica. She won't post anything reckless again."
"This ends here. Stop dragging it out."
My fingers tightened around the phone, and the irony sat bitter in my chest.
To him, every insult to my name could be settled with a number.
I was ready to refuse on the spot.
But the next second, the hospital called.
"Ms. Harding, several of the burn survivors in the project have a serious funding gap for their second-stage reconstructive surgeries."
"If we can't pull the money together, the surgeries scheduled for next week will have to be postponed."
"Miss the ideal treatment window and the scarring will only worsen."
The way those children looked into the camera, shy and uncertain, surfaced in my mind.
My throat went tight.
I stayed silent for a long time, and in the end I gave in.
I sent Edgar one line back.
"Last time."
On the day of the surgery, the little girl lay in her hospital bed, tilted her head up, and asked me,
"When I'm all better, can I wear pretty dresses?"
I looked at her small, young face, and something ached in me.
A fire had left Minnow Abbott with severe burns.
Eight years old, her face unrecognizable, her arm and back badly scarred and fused.
The pain of reconstructive surgery was more than most adults could bear.
But she was afraid of worrying me, so she endured it and never once cried out.
At least this was the last surgery. After today, Minnow could finally step into her new life.
I stroked her hair and answered, "Of course you can."
"When you're better, we'll buy you a Snow White dress. How's that?"
Minnow smiled so sweetly, showing two little canines.
Her eyes were full of hope.
But moments before the surgery, the attending surgeon hurried over to me.
"Ms. Harding, the system shows insufficient funds in your account. We can't proceed with the second-stage reconstruction."
My heart dropped. I logged into my online banking at once to check.
The two million Edgar had transferred had already been intercepted and reversed back to the source.
The doctor panicked too.
"Ms. Harding, if we miss today's window, a full recovery for Minnow will be almost impossible."
I fumbled to open our chat, wanting to demand an answer from Edgar.
But the message bounced back with a red exclamation mark. He'd blocked me already.
In desperation, I logged into my account.
I edited a post, attaching the children's pre-op reports and the hospital's payment notices.
Just hoping someone kind would step in.
Just hoping to save the one chance that little girl had left.
But not long after the post went up, Angelica was trending right behind me.
She played the victim with her pregnant belly, every word accusing me of trying and failing to seduce her fiancé.
And now, she said, I was hiding behind a charity banner to fake a fundraiser and swindle money.
Those buddies of Edgar's took turns reposting it as proof.
Saying I had a history of using someone's gratitude for saving their life to extort them.
I wouldn't accept it. I tagged Edgar directly on social media.
【Tell them the truth.】
He replied: 【It's all in the past.】
That one line, "It's all in the past," sounded light as air.
But it left no doubt: it backed up everything they'd said.
Netizens swarmed into my comments.
【Wow, lady, you're not even famous but you love the clout. You think our Mr. Simmons would ever give you the time of day?】
【Ugly face, uglier heart. If I looked like that I'd just tie a rope around my neck and be done with it.】
They fixed on the scars on my face and hurled whatever they wanted.
The fundraiser link was reported out of pure spite.
Before the surgery even began, it had already failed.
That vicious mark was left on Minnow's young face forever.
She wouldn't look in a mirror anymore, hiding in the corner of the ward, covering her face, crying without a sound.
But when she saw me, she forced up a smile anyway.
"It's okay, Dessie."
"Minnow knows you did everything you could."
