Part 1The Day I Was Diagnosed With Cancer, Someone Sent Me $500 Million And Said To Spend It In Three Months For A Cure

Because of my kindness toward a dog, I was gifted $5 billion.

All I had to do was spend it, and my liver cancer would miraculously disappear.

I stared at the balance on my phone, wiping away my tears.

If I could spend to my heart’s content before I die, it was worth it!

The day I was diagnosed with liver cancer was Christmas.

The streets were filled with the sound of Christmas carols, and the atmosphere was lively and cheerful.

I drifted down the street with the lab results in my hand.

"Liver cancer, late-stage" were the words glaring at me from the medical report.

The doctor’s words still echoed in my mind.

“If there’s something you want to do, do it quickly.”

“Treatment isn’t going to help you. You only have a few months.”

I had sensed something was wrong with my body for a while, so the news wasn’t a surprise.

There was just this feeling of, “Well, that figures.”

Maybe it was the years of overworking.

Maybe it was all the dinners and drinks with clients.

Maybe it was the malnutrition from my teenage years catching up to me.

My phone screen lit up. It was a message from my boyfriend, Tyler Martin.

[Baby, I have to work late tonight. I can't spend Christmas with you.]

I looked up and saw two people locked in an embrace, not far away.

So, this was what he meant by “working late.”

Suddenly, being cheated on didn’t seem like such a big deal in the face of death.

But did he really have to flaunt it in front of me?

I walked up to them and yanked the two of them apart.

A loud slap landed square on Tyler’s face.

“Working late?”

He looked stunned.

He turned to see me, his eyes wide with shock, and just as he was about to explode in anger, I slapped him again, this time across his right cheek.

“Working late with her face?”

I had fallen for that gentle, nerdy face of his. He seemed cultured and sweet.

Sure, he had his faults—he wasn’t exactly strong, and he had a ton of quirks—but I liked him anyway.

So, I played the naïve girlfriend for three years.

Who would’ve thought he’d turn out to be such scum?

I still wasn’t satisfied. I raised my hand and slapped him once more.

This time, he lost it, clenching his fists and charging at me, breathless with rage.

I kicked him square in the chest, and he stumbled back a few steps, gasping for air, unable to form coherent words.

“Carrie Mitchell, are you insane?!”

I smirked. “Yeah, I am. I’m dying, actually.”

I kicked him again, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Tyler lay there, groaning in pain, barely able to breathe.

I stepped on him, grinding my foot into his chest for good measure, and glanced around at the crowd forming nearby.

People were starting to gather, some even pulling out their phones to record the scene.

“I’m just dealing with a cheating scumbag. Any of you want to defend him, or do you want to be next?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the crowd scattered.

Soon, it was just me and the pale-faced girl standing there.

She looked young, probably just graduated from college.

“How long have you been dating him?”

She mumbled, “Not even six months.”

“Did you know he had a girlfriend?”

The girl shook her head furiously, eyes wide. “No! Not until now! I’m done with him! I swear!”

I nodded in approval. “Then what are you waiting for? Leave.”

“Right! Right, I’m going! Wishing you—”

I cut her off, annoyed. “Don’t bother wishing me anything. I don’t have a thing for secondhand men.”

Once the girl was gone, I grabbed Tyler by the collar and dragged him to the railing.

I was strong by nature, and a few years of martial arts training had made sure I could handle someone like him without breaking a sweat.

“Now let’s talk about us.”

“We’ve been together for three years. How much have I spent on you?”

Tyler’s face was swollen and red, looking nothing like the clean-cut guy I used to like.

“Uh... maybe $30,000? No, wait, $50,000.”

“Are you sure?”

“And the $30,000 you loaned me. So, $80,000 total.”

“No interest?”

Tyler quickly changed his answer. “Okay, okay! $100,000! I owe you $100,000!”

I stuffed my medical report back into my coat pocket. “Pay up. Cash or transfer?”

“Transfer, transfer!”

I stared coldly at him. “Don’t forget to add a note.”

He flinched and immediately added a note before shakily entering his password to make the transfer.

My phone buzzed with the notification. $100,000 received, labeled as "Repayment."