"Rich and wild in bed, her fiancé must be in heaven," my coworker snickered.
I tried my best to tune out his filthy words, but my stomach twisted with nausea and I couldn’t stop dry heaving from the pain inside.
“Raquel, I picked up Wendy from kindergarten,” said the man from the photo as he walked toward her, holding the hand of a chubby little boy.
The child laughed and threw himself into Raquel’s arms. “Raquel! Zack said we’re having a big feast tonight!”
Raquel affectionately stroked his cheek. “Yes. I’ve booked an entire cruise tonight. Play as much as you want!”
“Zack, you haven’t given me my hello kiss yet today.” She pouted.
The man chuckled and planted a kiss on her bright red lips. “Didn’t I satisfy you just last night?”
Raquel playfully smacked his chest.
Seeing that the car was now clean, she waved casually at me.
Without even sparing me a glance, she pulled out a thick wad of bills and shoved it into my hand.
I stared at the near thousand dollar tip in my palm and my limbs began to go numb.
The money Raquel tossed so casually was more than I could earn in a whole month of hard labor.
Just the way she offhandedly said she booked an entire cruise alone could have paid for my son’s heart transplant.
Seeing my stunned expression, Zack chuckled and looked me up and down, eyeing my worn-out, faded shirt.
“Hick. Took the tip and was still standing around? Don’t even know how to be grateful?”
His mocking tone made my nose sting, shame and fury swirling inside me.
Raquel glanced at me with a puzzled look. “You… how come…”
I didn’t even dare to breathe, terrified that she’d call me by name in the next second.
“There’s blood on your shirt. Disgusting. Don’t scare the kid,” she said with a frown of disgust before pulling Zack and his little nephew into the car.
I let out a bitter laugh.
The wound from selling my kidney had split open again, staining my white shirt a vivid red.
Standing next to her, Zack looked tall and striking in his crisp suit, while I stood there like a fool, filthy and pitiful, clutching the "tip" she had tossed at me like spare change.
The wife I thought had stuck with me through thick and thin after bankruptcy had turned into a CEO who could casually throw around millions.
All these years of sacrifice to her must have been nothing more than a joke.
Just then, a coworker approached, looking puzzled and handed me an envelope.
“You know that guy who just left with the car? He told me to give this to you,” my coworker said, holding out the envelope.
I frowned slightly, pressed my lips together and took it.
Finding a quiet corner in a nearby internet café, I carefully plugged the USB drive inside the envelope into the computer.
In an instant, dozens of video files popped up on the screen.
In one, Zack and Raquel sat on either side of Wendy, surrounding him with smiles as they celebrated his birthday.
A massive, multi-tiered cake stood in front of them, surrounded by all the expensive toys my son had only ever dreamed of.
In another, Raquel was attending a parent-child sports day with Zack and Wendy. She had a beaming smile on her face, so warm, so natural. It was a smile I hadn’t seen from her in years.
The three of them wore matching family outfits, looking every bit like a real family.
I stared blankly at the screen, my mind hollow and still, until the final video popped up.
Raquel lay unclothed in Zack’s arms.
Her voice was lazy and intimate. “How’s that son of yours? When do you plan on bringing him back to my family?”
Zack chuckled, his fingers idly tracing her shoulder. “I’m done testing them for five years. It’s your fault for insisting on that stupid bet in the first place.”
Raquel snorted softly. “Let’s wait till next year to bring them back. That country bumpkin’s kid still needs a heart transplant. If we take them now, he’ll definitely come crawling for my family’s money and power.”
My hands trembled on the mouse and my vision blurred.
The truth I had once refused to believe now cut deeper than any knife.
From the way Raquel spoke, it was as if our son wasn’t even her own flesh and blood.
She kept calling him that country bumpkin’s kid. Each word pierced through me like a blade, cutting deep into my heart and gut.
She knew.
She knew our son was sick, hanging by a thread, waiting for a miracle.
She had the means. She could’ve found the best medical team, paid for the surgery, even secured a matching heart.
But instead… she chose to stand by coldly, watching me sell my body for scraps, watching our son waste away in pain.
And to think, we first met in a welfare home.
