Chapter 5

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the ground.

In that instant, my soul felt torn into countless fragments.

My Annie was dead.

She was only four years old.

She hadn't even worn the new dress I bought her yet.

He twisted the corners of his mouth, letting out a short, cold snort.

"Dead?"

"Good riddance. Stella Johnson has one less bargaining chip for her frame-up."

The next second, I lunged at Grant Thornton in a frenzy.

My hands clamped around his neck, wanting to tear him apart on the spot.

But my hands passed through his body again and again, unable to touch him at all.

Hearing the news of death over the radio, the officer's face changed dramatically, immediately issuing an order: "The victim is dead. Change suspect Lily Wade's charge to intentional homicide. Take her into custody immediately!"

Hearing the words "intentional homicide," Grant Thornton's eyes filled with viciousness.

He stared deadly at the emergency room, cursing through gritted teeth.

"Stella Johnson, you're ruthless enough. To frame Lily, you'd even kill the bargaining chip you found yourself."

"You think hiding behind the scenes pulling these stunts will succeed?"

He pulled out his phone and made a call on the spot.

"Investigate! Check that black market dealer's account transactions! Track down Stella Johnson!"

"I'm going to personally drag out this mastermind and make her kneel before the police and admit that all of this was her scheme to harm people!"

He pulled out his phone and opened a conversation window that hadn't been touched in five years.

His fingertips pounded the screen forcefully.

"Stella Johnson, your bastard is dead."

"This is what you get for causing trouble."

"Come back right now and apologize to Lily, issue a settlement agreement, or I won't even let you take that bastard's corpse."

Message sent.

A red exclamation mark popped up.

Five years ago, I had blocked him.

Irritated, he switched to the text message interface and resent it.

I stood right in front of him, watching him type these words.

Watching him use the cruelest vocabulary to announce the death of his own flesh and blood.

Grant Thornton returned to the police station. The underground black market dealer was restrained in the interrogation chair.

Seeing Grant Thornton enter, the dealer whistled.

"Dr. Thornton, back from playing nurse to your mistress?"

Grant Thornton's eyes were icy as he braced both hands on the table.

"Cut the crap. How much did Stella Johnson pay you to recite this testimony?"

The dealer leaned back his head and laughed.

"Dr. Thornton, do you really think that was an overseas donor?"

"When we tied that woman to the operating table, she kept crying and begging."

"She begged us to give her some anesthesia. She said she had a sick daughter, she couldn't die."

The dealer leaned close to the table, lowering his voice.

"She begged us to give her anesthesia. But the client ordered that anesthesia would affect the heart's vitality, bad for the recipient."

"So we held her down hard on the table. Four people holding down her limbs. We split her chest open alive."

"That woman's vocal cords were torn, the pain made her whole body convulse. Blood sprayed everywhere in the room."

The moment the dealer spoke, the pain seemed to cross the boundary of life and death, sweeping over me again.

I clutched my empty chest, curling into a ball in midair, screaming.

But no one could hear me.

"Oh, right." The dealer tilted his head thoughtfully, his smile widening.

"Below her left ribs, there was a very deep burn scar. When we made the incision, we just happened to avoid that spot."

That scar was from when I was twenty, when the rental house caught fire.

I was burned by a red-hot iron frame protecting his experimental data.

The dealer looked at Grant Thornton and continued twisting the knife.

"With her last breath, she was calling a name."

"She kept calling: Grant, save me."

In the moment of dying, I did call for Grant.

That nickname that no one in this world except eighteen-year-old Stella Johnson would use.

At that time, the pain left me mentally confused.

I thought the boy who vowed at eighteen to protect me forever would take me home like before.

But my Grant had died five years ago.

Grant Thornton seemed to hear the most absurd joke, scoffing as if he'd seen through everything.

"Stop your nonsense!"

"Even knowing about that burn scar---to drag Lily down, she really planned out every detail!"

The interrogation room door was suddenly pushed open.

The female officer from before walked in. She walked up to Grant Thornton and slammed the report in her hand heavily on the table.

One was a heart source DNA comparison report.

One was a paternity test certificate between the deceased and Grant Thornton.

The female officer looked at him, her eyes full of anger and disgust.

"Grant Thornton."

"The heart beating in Lily Wade's chest is indeed your ex-wife Stella Johnson's heart."

"And the girl who just died in the hospital because you refused to donate blood. She was your biological daughter."