Part 2The Day I Was Diagnosed With Cancer, Someone Sent Me $500 Million And Said To Spend It In Three Months For A Cure

Before leaving, I gave him one last chance.

“Do you need me to call the cops for you?”

Tyler was trembling like a leaf, looking pitiful.

“No! I, uh, fell. I haven’t seen you today!”

I lost interest. “Fine then.”

“I like your hands. It’d be a shame if they got broken because you didn’t behave.”

“Now get lost.”

Tyler stumbled to his feet and fled.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my body, and I could barely stand.

Sweat poured down my face as I crouched, hugging my knees.

It took a while for the pain to pass.

I slowly made my way home, but then my mom called.

“Carrie, you haven’t sent this month’s money yet.”

My heart sank to the bottom.

I finally realized how meaningless all my efforts for my family had been.

I was dying.

Yet the only thing my family cared about was why I hadn’t sent money this month.

These were the people I’d been planning to leave my inheritance to.

“What, is $5,000 a month not enough for you and Dad?”

“It’s enough, but your brother just graduated. He needs to pay rent, and he’s got a car loan. He’s short on cash.”

I scoffed coldly, “So now I’m the ATM? What am I, his parent?”

Her voice immediately rose. “Carrie Mitchell, how can you say that? Don’t forget, when you were a kid, your brother saved your life!”

Saved me?

David was two years younger than me but always better fed and healthier. He pushed me into the river because I wouldn’t let him ride on my back like a horse.

Mom, Ellen, knew the truth. But she had used that story to guilt-trip me my whole life, making me feel like I owed them everything.

Out of love for my family, I kept quiet about it.

But now, I no longer had to.

I cut her off, “Do you think I don’t remember?”

“Maybe I should ask Uncle Wayne, the one who actually saved me, what he thinks.”

Mom fell silent.

She tried to start yelling again, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“I’ve kept records of every transfer. I paid for the house’s down payment and mortgage too.”

“I’ve repaid what you spent raising me. You’ve got enough for retirement.”

“If you still want to make a fuss, I’ll make sure your precious son pays for it.”

“We’ll see who cares more.”

Her angry curses filled the phone.

I hung up and blocked all contact with them.

A sense of calm settled over me.

All the resentment I’d bottled up for years suddenly seemed insignificant in the face of death.

In my final months, all I wanted was to treat myself better.

As I walked through Briarwood Alley, I heard a rustling behind me.

Under the dim streetlight, a hulking man with a scruffy beard was approaching, holding a knife.

Despite his efforts to seem calm, his hands were shaking.

A newbie?

I said, “Are you robbing me?”

“Y-yeah, but aren’t you scared?”

I cut him off. “Would $5,000 be enough? Give me your number, I’ll send it over.”

Better to give it to this guy than let my family drain me dry.

The man looked confused.

I grabbed his hand, fished out his phone, and pulled up the payment screen, transferring $5,000 to him.

He still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

I frowned. “Is $5,000 not enough? Asking for more would be rude.”

“W-why are you being so cooperative?”

Honestly, he seemed kind of dumb—like a big bear with a scruffy face.

I pulled out my medical report. “See this? Stage four liver cancer. I’m terminal.”

The man’s face changed, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He quickly wiped them away and transferred the money back to me.

Then, he pulled out a wad of cash from his pockets and stuffed it into my hands.

“I’m sorry, sis! My grandpa had cancer too. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Please, get treatment! You’ll be okay, I swear!”

He hurried off, still crying.

I stared at the crumpled bills in my hands, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

A stranger had more compassion for me than my own family ever did.