Chapter 3

With that, he turned away in disgust, tossing back a single sentence:

"Deal with Angel's situation yourself. As punishment, I'll wait until Tiffany is stable before I come see you two."

I leaned against the wall, blood trickling down from the back of my skull.

Angel's last words echoed in my ears, over and over.

"Mommy, don't cry. Angel doesn't need Daddy anymore. I just need you, Mommy…"

I couldn't afford even the cheapest painkillers.

All I could do was clench my teeth against the agony radiating through my body and drag myself to handle Angel's arrangements.

I'd scraped together just enough for the remaining balance on the burial plot, but when I reached the counter, the bank card was declined again.

I opened my banking app.

Another zero.

I called Abner.

His voice was all fury: "You scared Tiffany into nearly having a heart attack yesterday. I brought in a specialist for a consultation. The fee came out of the family account. Do you have a problem with that?"

I had no tears left.

"Give me the money back. That was Angel's—"

"I told you I'll handle Angel's affairs!"

He cut me off, then his tone suddenly shifted.

"What about you, though—why did you stop going to that research institute job? They contacted me, said they recommended terminating your contract, but expected me to pay the penalty."

I went rigid. The clinical trial center had reached out to him.

"They said the pay was quite good, but that your body couldn't handle it anymore."

He paused, a note of mockery creeping into his voice.

"But you look fine to me. And since you love money so much, I put in a word for you—told them you'd show up next week as scheduled."

My lips began to tremble.

If I went back there, it would kill me.

But I didn't say it.

In two years, I had never once told him what "clinical trials" actually meant.

High pay meant high risk.

Human testing for high-risk experimental drugs was, in essence, selling my life for money.

The side effects had already hollowed out my liver and kidneys.

My bone density had plummeted. My clotting function was in chaos.

But I knew that even if I explained, he wouldn't listen.

He would only think I was making it up to compete with his precious Tiffany for attention.

"Be a good girl. Go to the institute, cooperate with the tests. Might do you some good—clear out all that nonsense in your head."

His tone softened.

"Once Tiffany's condition stabilizes, I'll come see you and Angel."

The line went dead.

A message from the trial center followed immediately: Mrs. Anna, Mr. Abner has confirmed your continued participation in the Phase III project on your behalf. Please note: given your current liver and kidney indicators and overall health status, the risk level for this round of trials has been elevated to the highest category.

The morgue attendant was pressing me too: "Ma'am, your daughter's remains can only be preserved for seventy-two hours. Please complete the arrangements as soon as possible."

I checked the compensation for continuing the drug trial.

It was exactly enough to cover the remaining balance on the double burial plot—enough to let me and my precious Angel be laid to rest together.

So I replied to the trial center's message.

Received. I'll be there on time.

Then let this body—already rotted through by chemicals—buy me and Angel a place where we can finally sleep in peace.