Chapter 2

Natasha stopped in her tracks and turned her head, staring at Shaun in disbelief.

"What do you mean?"

Shaun smirked smugly, releasing her arm and flicking the ash off his cigarette.

"The head of nephrology at Trinity Hospital, Dr. Pete Dickinson, is my uncle. All it takes is one word from me, and he'll free up your mother's spot in the hospital for someone else."

Natasha jolted, her canvas bag slipping from her hand and hitting the floor. Its contents spilled out—a few crumpled receipts, a bottle of cheap blood pressure medication, and half a cold sandwich.

My heart seized with a sharp pang at the sight of the sandwich.

Eight years ago, she had transferred 800 dollars to me every single month, with a note that read, "Eat more meat."

Eight years later, here she was, eating a cold sandwich.

Natasha crouched down, frantically scrambling to gather her things.

Shaun planted his foot right on top of the sandwich and ground it in hard.

"Natasha, don't push your luck. I'm giving you one more chance. Come with me to a hotel tonight and make sure I'm well taken care of. Then, tomorrow, I'll have Uncle Pete arrange your mother's surgery. Otherwise, you can go pick her up at the morgue tomorrow."

Natasha froze in place. She lifted her head and looked at Shaun's utterly repulsive face, the light in her eyes dimming little by little. In its place was a numbed despair that sent a chill through anyone who saw it.

She stood up slowly, her voice faint. "If I go with you, you'll save my mom?"

"Natasha!" A sharp voice rang out from outside the cafe door.

A middle-aged man hurriedly squeezed his way in and grabbed Natasha by the arm.

"Uncle Henry?" Natasha was stunned for a moment.

The man who had come was Natasha's maternal uncle, Henry Seymour.

Henry turned to Shaun, his face plastered with an ingratiating smile.

"Mr. Buchanan, please don't be angry. Natasha simply doesn't know any better."

He turned his head to glare at Natasha. "Have you lost your mind?" he scolded her in a lowered voice. "You should be thanking your lucky stars that Mr. Buchanan has taken an interest in you."

"Uncle Henry, he told me to send Mom back to the countryside to wait for her death!" Natasha retorted as she tried to break free from his grip.

However, Henry held on to her tightly. "Well, there's nothing to be done about that! Your mom's illness was never curable in the first place. How much longer do you plan to drag the whole family down with you? Mr. Buchanan has promised to give me 30,000 dollars as long as you marry him.

"My son, Clyde Seymour, is about to buy a marital home, and this money is exactly what we need for the down payment."

Natasha stood rooted to the spot, staring fixedly at Henry.

"You sold me?"

"What do you mean, I sold you? It's called keeping it in the family!" Henry declared self-righteously. "I've lent you 20,000 dollars over the years for your sick mother. When have you ever paid me back? So, it's only right that I use this opportunity to settle the debt."

Natasha was shaking with fury. "I paid you back that 20,000 dollars with interest ages ago!"

"Bullshit! That was just the interest you paid back!" Henry roared, resorting to shameless denial.

He turned to Shaun and fawned obsequiously. "Mr. Buchanan, rest assured that I'll get Natasha sorted out for you today. She'll go with you tonight."

Shaun nodded with satisfaction. Then he pulled a wad of cash from his bag and tossed it onto the table.

"Here's 10,000 dollars as a deposit. I'll give you the rest once Natasha has given me a son."

Henry's eyes lit up. He reached out to grab the money, but Natasha suddenly lunged forward and swept the cash off the table with one swipe.

"I won't marry him! I'd rather die than marry him!"

Henry flew into a rage and slapped her hand across the face with the back of his hand.