You Let Our Daughter Die, Then Came Back Begging

My daughter Wendy's heart condition suddenly turned critical. The doctor hurriedly called and informed me that a matching heart donor had been found!

Tears streaming down my face, I begged the doctor for more time to gather the money, but all our savings were with my husband.

For the 108th time, I dialed Ulysses’s number, and once again, he hung up on me.

Finally, when he answered, Ulysses yelled impatiently, “Yasmine Bancroft! I’m in the middle of a meeting with investors. Can you stop bothering me?”

Before I could respond, he hung up.

Desperate, I clung tightly to the flyer in my hand about selling kidneys.

Fresh out of an underground clinic, I ignored the blood seeping from the wound on my side and stumbled back to the hospital.

Signing the consent form for the surgery, my heart finally found a brief moment of peace.

Wendy looked at me with tearful eyes, “Mom, is my illness incurable? Please, don’t spend money on me...”

I stroked her pale face, holding back my heartache, and reassured her, “Don’t be afraid, Wendy. Mom has raised the money. After the surgery tomorrow, you’ll get better!”

But thinking about the huge debts my husband owed, the medical expenses post-surgery, and nutrition fees for Wendy, I gritted my teeth, enduring the excruciating pain from my wound, and went to the cleaning service company to work as a cleaner.

Each cleaning job paid $15. By evening, I could buy some nutritious food for Wendy and Ulysses.

Cleaning villas in affluent neighborhoods might even earn me some extra tips.

Standing in front of a luxurious villa, I clung to a glimmer of hope.

But the moment my gaze landed on the bedside table photo encased in dazzling crystals, a cold chill ran from my feet to my head, and my entire body stiffened.

In the photo, Ulysses was dressed in a sharp suit, an expensive watch on his wrist that I had never seen before.

He was a completely different man from the one who claimed to be bankrupt, frugal to the point of refusing to throw away even his hole-ridden socks!

The beautiful woman nestled close to him was Grace Fairfax, the "investor" he mentioned every day!

I felt my breath hitch, and the mop fell from my trembling hands with a clatter.

With shaking hands, I took out my phone, its screen lighting up to show a photo of Ulysses and me, smiling brightly and heartbreakingly.

Could Ulysses have a twin brother?

But I immediately dismissed the absurd thought—the small mole at the corner of his eye in the photo was one I was all too familiar with!

Blood seemed to freeze in my veins; I stood there, paralyzed, too scared to even call him to question.

A colleague nudged me, “Yasmine, what’s the matter? Miss Fairfax is coming to check soon!”

I quickly pulled up my mask, using my cap brim to cover my face, only daring to steal glances.

Ulysses strode in, looking dashing in a perfectly tailored suit, one hand nonchalantly in his pocket.

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I gritted my teeth and started cleaning the floor.

While cleaning the living room, I found crumpled tissue with smeared lipstick and used condoms between the sofa cushions.

A sharp pain gripped my heart. Nauseated, I forced myself to throw the filthy items into the trash.

A colleague sidled next to me, whispering with a smirk, “Rich people sure know how to have fun! Look how generous Mr. Crowe is. He must pamper Miss Fairfax like a queen!”

“Yeah, rich and handsome. Miss Fairfax is so lucky!”

Their words were like knives carving into my heart. My stomach churned, and I held my mouth to stop from retching.

“Ulysses, I brought Rosa back!” Grace called out, holding the hand of a pretty little girl.

The girl giggled and ran into Ulysses's arms, “Uncle Ulysses! Aunt Grace said we’re having a big dinner tonight!”

Ulysses lovingly patted the girl’s head, “Uncle Ulysses has booked an entire yacht for tonight. You can have all the fun you want, Rosa!”

Grace cooed as she leaned closer to Ulysses, standing on her tiptoes, “Darling, where’s my welcome kiss?”

Ulysses chuckled, pecking her red lips, his voice sultry, “What, yesterday wasn’t enough for you?”