Chapter 2

The early autumn night wind was chilly.

I walked alone down the street, the streetlights stretching my shadow long.

I pulled out my phone. The screen was full of unread messages.

Several were text messages from the hospital demanding payment, but more were private message bombardments from various social media platforms.

I opened the local trending page. A clip from Emma's livestream had already made it to the trending list.

The title was: "A 22-Year-Old Cancer Fighter's Diary of Strength: Even If Chemo Makes My Hair Fall Out, I'll Keep Smiling"

In the video, she was holding my medicine box, crying beautifully. The comment section was full of sympathy and encouragement.

"So pitiful—so young and already has stomach cancer."

"Already donated five hundred. Emma, hang in there!"

"I know that medication. It's imported—costs thousands per box. Ordinary families can't afford it at all. Everyone please help her out."

I looked at those comments, my fingers trembling.

Every cent they donated was paying for Emma's vanity, while the person actually lying in a hospital bed waiting for money to save her life couldn't even pay for the next chemotherapy session.

Suddenly, a private message popped up.

"Faking cancer to scam money—hope your whole family dies! Absolutely shameless!"

I paused, clicked on that person's profile, and found they had reposted a thread.

The thread title was: "Exposé! That Cancer-Fighting Influencer Emma's Sister Actually Wants to Steal Her Life-Saving Money!"

The post included a video.

It was footage of me in the rental apartment just now, reaching out to grab the medicine box, then getting slapped by David and falling to the ground.

But the video had been maliciously edited.

You couldn't hear David hitting me in the video—you could only see me charging over viciously to grab things, while Emma screamed in fright and Rachel rushed over to protect her.

The caption read: "Emma's sister Stella not only refuses to take care of her sick sister, she's even jealous of the donations Emma receives. She came home to steal her life-saving medication. Absolutely unconscionable!"

The comment section had already exploded.

"Does this kind of sister even deserve to live?"

"Suggest doxxing this Stella and making her suffer social death!"

"I know her! She works at the oncology department at City General Hospital (actually where I'm hospitalized). I'll go block her at the hospital tomorrow!"

I leaned against the bus stop sign. My stomach cramped, and I opened my mouth to vomit up some acidic fluid.

They hadn't just stolen my illness—they wanted to trample me underfoot and make me bear the stigma of being vicious.

My phone vibrated with a text message.

"Ms. Stella, regarding the 'Spark Charity' serious illness aid materials you submitted, our system has detected a high degree of overlap with another applicant's (Emma's) pathology number and treatment records. There is suspicion of material fraud. Your aid eligibility has been temporarily frozen. Please arrive at 9:00 AM tomorrow at the Spark Charity Review Center in this city with your personal identification and medical proof for on-site verification. Failure to appear will result in permanent disqualification and legal consequences."

I stared hard at the words on the screen.

Frozen.

I had waited three months, run to countless departments, collected over a dozen stamps, and finally managed to apply for this life-saving money. Just because Emma had taken my photocopies to apply, it was frozen.

I wiped the acidic fluid from my mouth and straightened my body.

Want me dead? Not that easily.

I flagged down a taxi and headed straight to the hospital.

When I reached the ward, I pulled open my bedside cabinet. Sure enough, it was completely empty.

All my original medical records, payment invoices, even my hospital wristband—all gone.

Nurse Lily, who was on duty, walked over. Seeing my deathly pale complexion, she was startled: "Stella, why are you back? Didn't you take leave to go home and get a change of clothes?"

I grabbed her hand, my voice hoarse: "Lily, where are the things from my cabinet?"

Lily froze for a moment: "Your mom came this afternoon. She said Emma was going to help you organize reimbursement materials and took your medical file folder and medication. I had her sign for it."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Lily, do me a favor." I opened my eyes, my gaze as cold as ice. "Please print out a complete set of my electronic medical records from admission until now, and all payment details."

Seeing my expression, Lily didn't ask questions and hurried to the nurses' station.

By the time I received the thick stack of printouts stamped with the hospital's official seal, dawn was nearly breaking.

I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, looking at the densely packed treatment records on the documents.

Every chemotherapy dosage, every emergency medication, every expense that had emptied my bank account—it was all here.

Emma, you want to fake being sick?

Tomorrow, I'll let you fake it to your heart's content.