Part 3False Diagnosis, Real Betrayal

I stood in silence, clenching my fists so tightly that my fingernails almost dug into my palms.

Wait for death? No. I absolutely refused to accept such a fate, and I would never allow my money to simply go to Mark and Chloe.

I forced myself to calm down, then suddenly remembered I still had gold jewelry. That meant I still had a chance to turn things around.

For now, I had to pretend to back down. I claimed I'd been too emotional earlier, that I needed to calm down. The pressure was just too much. I'd even admit that maybe they had a point.

After some careful maneuvering, my feigned emotions seemed to sway them. They probably thought, as an orphan, I had no one else to rely on but them.

I sat on the bed in the bedroom, scanning the room, waiting quietly, searching for any possible opportunity. Sure enough, Mark had to leave in the afternoon.

The moment Mark stepped out of the house, I knew this was my only chance.

I quickly and stealthily searched the room, my heart pounding like a drum.

However, just as I found the gold jewelry, Mrs. Thompson's figure abruptly appeared in the doorway, her eyes filled with suspicion and wariness.

"What are you doing in here?"

Her voice was sharp and grating, like a knife piercing my heart.

My mind raced. I quickly tossed the jewelry into the trash can in the corner of the room, then feigned composure, picking up a bag of garbage.

"Oh, nothing. Just saw the trash can was full, so I'm taking it out. Mom, didn't you say Mark works hard? While I'm not feeling too sick, I thought I could help a little."

"After all... I'll still be relying on the family for my treatment."

Mrs. Thompson stared at me, half-believing, half-doubting, but seemingly found no further evidence to challenge me. She turned and left.

I seized the opportunity to escape the room, with only one thought in my mind - to convert these jewels into cash, to at least buy myself a sliver of a chance at life.

I walked into the jewelry store full of hope and handed my jewelry to the clerk. The clerk's verdict was a lightning bolt. My jewels were all fakes, just gold-plated silver with almost no value.

My heart plummeted, all hope vanishing in an instant.

But I had personally bought these pieces for our wedding! How could this be? The gold-plated silver looked exactly the same!

As I stood there, stunned and at a loss, Mrs. Thompson and my husband walked into the jewelry store, their faces alight with triumphant smiles.

Mrs. Thompson's tone dripped with mockery. "I knew you were up to no good! Good thing we were clever enough to have Mark swap out all the jewelry."

Mark, looking smug and calculating, stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and growled, "Good thing I was prepared, or you would have ruined this family! These jewels? I've already invested them with Chloe. She'll make us even more money."

"And these gold-plated trinkets? Consider them your final farewell gift. Our last 'kindness' to you. You're welcome."

His words were like sharp knives, slicing into my heart.

I struggled in a rage, trying to break free from his grip.

But my body, overcome by a sudden surge of anger, felt weak and powerless.

My vision blurred, my ears filled with their mocking laughter and sneers.

No! I can't collapse here!

I tried to clench my fists, to gather my strength.

But overwhelmed by an indescribable hatred, I suddenly lost consciousness.