The Story of Wendy Yaeger

Luke was a poor student I sponsored back in high school. With his excellent grades, he stood out from the rest. I liked him, but he was so poor that he couldn't even afford a proper meal.

Once, some bullies picked on him just because someone gave him a love letter. They cornered him in the bathroom and purposely soaked his shoes with urine.

That day, the model student ended up in a fight. When he returned to class, his face was bruised and swollen. His bare feet were red from the freezing weather too.

My heart ached for him, so I immediately asked my driver to bring a pair of shoes and socks over.

That was the first time I spoke to him. My throat was tight as I handed him the items and said, "These are for you, Luke."

Luke looked up at me, his eyes more red than before.

…

When the phone's ringtone woke me up, I was still in a trance. Getting something and then losing it was a different kind of pain.

It was Luke's assistant who called. At first, I didn't want to answer, but the relentless calls kept coming.

Exhausted, I sat up and popped a painkiller. Just as I answered the phone, a worried voice came through, "Mr. Chester was stabbed! You need to come over now!"

My head went blank as I felt the room spin. Was Luke going to die?

There was no time to think further. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and rushed to the Chesters' private hospital.

When I arrived, I saw Luke stiffly standing outside the operating room. The sleeve of his suit was stained with blood, but he simply stared blankly ahead, seemingly nervous and worried.

I recalled the time I had surgery for appendicitis. Luke was so worried that he'd nearly broken down in tears. Fearing that I might be in pain, he had stayed up all night. He even slapped himself out of guilt and blamed himself for letting me eat unhealthily.

My steps gradually came to a halt. When Luke finally noticed me, he walked over. He raised his hand, but then, he stopped himself. With reddened eyes, he roared, "Wendy, why did you do this? You sent them, didn't you?"

I stared at him, completely stunned. There was not a single trace of warmth in his eyes—only pure hatred.

My chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe. I lowered my head to hide my emotions, trying not to bawl. "I don't know what you're talking about… It wasn't me."

"Cut the act!" Luke gritted his teeth and glared at me. His chest heaved in rage, and he even had his hands clenched into fists. "They all said it was you."

At that moment, it felt like something had been ripped straight from my heart. I had taken painkillers before coming, so why did it still hurt so much?

Luke's voice was hoarse as he said, "The blood bank's running low. You and Cassie are both Rh-negative. Since this was your doing, you should donate your blood to her!"

I stared at him, refusing to believe what I was hearing.

The Luke I once knew would gently cover my eyes when I had to get my blood drawn during my checkup.

My gaze might have been too intense because Luke avoided my eyes and turned to the doctor. Then, he shouted, "Take her away and draw her blood!"

Who knew one could also laugh when completely heartbroken? I tugged the corner of my lips and said, "Sign the divorce papers, and I'll go."

"Stop messing around, Wendy." Luke looked tired of me. "Malicious assault is a criminal offense. You could go to jail."

"Are you signing or not?" I coldly asked.

Luke turned as pale as a sheet. Then—like someone who had lost a negotiation—he gave in. "How much do you want this time?"

The heartache made it hard to breathe. Nevertheless, I coldly chuckled. "Ten million." It was enough for me to die in peace.

Luke sarcastically jeered, "Your blood must be made of gold."

My liver was covered in tumors—how could my blood not be priceless?