ManyWriters

I was lying on the hospital bed, vomiting blood for the third time, while he was carefully asking Pure Love how many grams of brown sugar the traditional medicine needed.
The nurse urgently pressed for payment, and I had to call Eames nine times before he finally answered.
When Eames showed up, he impatiently slapped his bank card on the bedside table, "Sophie still needs to rest. Stop bothering me with these little tricks of pretending to be sick."
I curled up under the blanket, clutching my stomach cancer diagnosis, listening to him talk on the phone with Sophie, his voice so tender it could drip water.
"Don't be afraid, I'll be right there."
Ten minutes later, my phone displayed Sophie's latest social media post.
The girl was holding a caviar brown sugar pot, happily writing, "It feels so good to be cherished by someone."
My heart twisted like a knife, and I completely gave up hope.
I immediately crossed out the family member section on the death notice and, with tears in my eyes, signed my own name.

Cancer and Snowflakes

Eames's inner beast stirred once again at her words. He snatched up a nearby spray bottle and hurled it in their direction.


"Who gave you permission? Get the hell out of here!"


He dialed his assistant, "Where's Sophie?"


At a high-society gathering of socialites, Sophie was plied with alcohol at Melody's urging, becoming thoroughly intoxicated.


When Eames arrived, she was stumbling about with a glass in hand, giggling uncontrollably. "You know what? I'm about to become Mrs. Harrington!"


"Aren't you happy for me? Eames's damn fiancée is finally dead!"


"Maybe she'll never rest in peace. I never had any baby, but Eames loves me and only believes what I say, haha... She's so pathetic, no explanation would've helped her!"


As she finished speaking, a male voice, barely containing its fury, cut through the air. "What did you say?"


Chapter 7