Chapter 1

In the eighth month of my mother’s battle with brain cancer, I unexpectedly ran into my ex-boyfriend of three years.

Word had it that he was now a renowned specialist in brain-related treatments.

Swallowing my pride, I took my mother to seek his help.

But the moment we met, I was turned away at the door—not that I was surprised.

After all, when we broke up, my mother had also given him the cold shoulder, and in a far more humiliating manner.

Left with no choice, I persisted, waiting and following him wherever I could.

Perhaps fed up with my persistence, he finally cornered me at his doorstep, his sharp gaze raking over me.

"Ann, if you want to save your mother, you’ll have to give me something in return."

With that, Wesson coldly shut the door in my face.

For a moment, my mind went blank. I clutched at my collar, feeling a mix of humiliation and helplessness.

But at this point, even if Wesson treated me like a commodity to be bargained for, I had no other options.

Every other doctor had said the same thing—the tumor in my mother’s brain was too close to critical areas to risk surgery.

Only Wesson might be able to attempt it.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door he had left ajar.

Inside, Wesson had already taken off his jacket. Sleeves rolled up, he was pouring himself a glass of water at the dispenser.

When he saw me enter, his expression didn’t change.

He casually sat on the sofa with his glass, not sparing me another glance.

Fidgeting with the hem of my coat, I cautiously stepped forward, stopping just in front of him.

"What do you want me to do?"

Wesson put down his glass and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he stared at me.

"Take off your clothes. Can you do that?"

His mocking tone cut deep. I bit down on my lip as a wave of humiliation crept up my spine.

For a moment, we were locked in a silent standoff. But eventually, I began unbuttoning my coat, one button at a time.

Then came the blouse.

And the undergarments.

Just as I was pulling down the second strap, Wesson Rambaud, fiddling impatiently with his phone on the sofa, finally spoke up.

"Enough."

He raised his phone, showing me a freshly taken photo, his face adorned with undisguised disdain.

"Ann, your mother always said you were noble and pure, someone a poor guy like me could never deserve. Don’t you think what you’re doing now slaps her in the face?"

I didn’t respond.

It was clear Wesson wanted to pay me back for every ounce of humiliation he’d suffered in the past. I had no choice but to endure it.

He opened his mouth to say more, but the ringing of his phone interrupted him.

He answered on speaker, and a sweet, familiar female voice came through.

"Wesson, I’m done with practice. I’m exhausted. Come pick me up."

My face went pale. After he hung up, I asked in a trembling voice,

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Wesson paused for a moment before nodding calmly.

"Yes. My fiancée."

A surge of shame washed over me, suffocating and cold.

He twirled the phone in his hand.

"If I were to post this video online with the caption ‘Renowned dancer Ann seduces an engaged doctor to save her mother,’ how do you think that would go?"

Something inside me snapped.

I stood frozen, feeling as though I’d fallen into an icy abyss.

"You can’t do that."

"Oh? And why not?"

His smirk deepened, as though something amusing had just crossed his mind.

"Right, I forgot. The mighty Ann family practically rules the city. Even in the capital, I’m sure your influence can reach far."

I hesitated, clenching my teeth.

"Yes. If you do this, my father won’t let you off."

Wesson chuckled like he’d just heard the punchline of a joke. His lips curled into a mocking grin as he nudged me with his foot.

"Get dressed. You heard her, I’ve got plans. As for what we didn’t finish this time, you’re welcome to come back if you’re interested."

Pale and numb, I picked up my clothes and put them back on.

"There won’t be a next time."

If I’d known he had a fiancée, I wouldn’t have come this time either.

Chapter 2

I thought my plea for Wesson to save my mother had fallen through. To my surprise, he showed up the next day to discuss the surgery.

However, when my mother saw him, she reacted violently, hurling insults as she shoved him out of the hospital room—just as she had once chased him out of the Hayes family home with a broomstick.

Dressed in a pristine white coat, Wesson stood in the hallway, his composed demeanor drawing many curious glances from passersby.

He looked down at me, his expression cold and detached.

"Ann, you saw what happened. It’s not that I won’t save her."

I quickly grabbed the corner of his coat as he turned to leave, my eyes stinging with tears.

"I’m sorry!"

"I apologize on her behalf. Please, go ahead and prepare for the surgery. I’ll make sure she calms down."

Wesson brushed my hand away lightly, letting out a faint, mocking laugh.

"Ann, what makes you think I’d go out of my way to save her?"

He leaned in closer, his gaze sharp and icy.

"You should know—I might just be the person who most wishes for her to die."

I froze, a dull ache spreading through my chest.

When I looked up again, he was already gone.

Back in the room, my mother was still agitated.

When she saw me, she pulled me into a tight embrace, her tears soaking my neck.

"My precious girl… it’s my fault. I didn’t protect you."

I wrapped my arms around her and shook my head, my heart aching.

"No, Mom, no. You’ve done nothing wrong."

The scene overlapped with one from three years ago, trapping us both in the past.

Ever since her illness began, the cancer in her brain had spread, compressing her nerves bit by bit. Her memory had already started to falter.

But the guilt of not having protected me haunted her, tormenting her even in her dreams.

I gently pushed her away a little and coaxed her in a soft voice.

"You promised to cooperate with the treatment. How could you chase the doctor away?"

Her face darkened with anger again.

"But that man looked like Wesson."

I sighed, shaking my head helplessly.

"No, you’re mistaken. You forgot that Wesson was kicked out three years ago."

A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, and she muttered to herself.

"Right, he was driven out three years ago."

"Three years…"

She suddenly grabbed my hand.

"Yes, Ann, it’s been three years. What happened in the past doesn’t matter anymore. Promise me you’ll keep pursuing what you love, okay? Shine like the brightest star on stage."

I lowered my eyes, holding back the tears threatening to spill. I squeezed her hand tightly.

"Okay, I promise."

"And you promise me, too—you’ll cooperate with the treatment, won’t you?"

Under my reassurance, she nodded. I stayed with her until she fell asleep before leaving the room.

On my way to find Wesson, I ran into someone I never expected.

Sandra Hayes.

—My father’s illegitimate daughter.

Two years ago, Sandra’s sudden appearance shattered what I thought was a happy family overnight.

This half-sister, just a year younger than me, was the one who pushed my mother to a mental breakdown.

My parents divorced.

My father left with his mistress to start a new family.

Sandra was exactly the same as she’d been two years ago, the day she drove my mother and me out of our home.

She stood with her arms crossed and chin held high, looking down on everyone.

Blocking my path, she launched into her usual jeers.

It was the same old taunts—how I had stolen the life she deserved for over twenty years, how I was finally getting what I deserved, how she would crush me underfoot for the rest of my life.

"Oh, and Ann, I heard your mom’s dying. Make sure to let me know when it happens so I can throw a celebration."

A loud slap landed squarely on Sandra’s face.

At the same time, someone pushed me from behind.

I stumbled forward, my forehead striking the edge of the nurse’s station. Blood trickled down, staining the desk as two nurses rushed over to help me in a panic.

Wiping the blood from my forehead, I lifted my gaze to meet the culprit.

Chapter 3

Wesson held Sandra, who was sulking in his arms, his expression so dark it could drip blood.

In that instant, I suddenly understood why he reacted the way he did yesterday when I brought up my father.

Why that voice on the phone had sounded so familiar.

Why his fiancée… turned out to be Sandra.

"Apologize."

I blinked, momentarily stunned.

Wesson abruptly grabbed the hand I had used to slap Sandra, his teeth clenched.

"Ann, apologize to Sandra."

I stared at him in a daze, biting my lip without saying a word.

I still remembered how, back in school, a girl had said a few snide remarks about me behind my back, and Wesson had dragged her over to apologize to me in person.

The Wesson who always stood by me, who was on my side no matter what—he was gone.

After a long stalemate, Wesson sneered coldly.

"Ann, your mother’s surgery..."

Before he could finish, I quickly bowed to Sandra and apologized.

Wesson let go of my wrist, which now bore the distinct marks of his fingers. The pain wasn’t just physical—it cut deep into my heart.

"What surgery?"

Sandra clung to Wesson, her tone urgent.

"Wesson, you’re not seriously planning to operate on Ann’s mother, are you? I won’t allow it."

"She and her mother ruined my life, took my father, and stole my future. I won’t let you save her."

Wesson simply ruffled her hair gently.

"Alright, whatever you say."

Sandra broke into a satisfied smile.

As they walked away, I finally snapped out of it and ran to block their path.

"No, Wesson, you can’t go back on your word."

"Besides, you’re a doctor. It’s your duty to save lives. You can’t just break your oath like this."

Wesson stopped in his tracks, looking at me with cold indifference.

"I said I’d do whatever Sandra wants. Blame yourself for crossing her."

My voice trembled as I grew desperate.

"If you betray your medical ethics like this, aren’t you afraid I’ll expose you online and ruin your reputation?"

Wesson released Sandra and turned his icy gaze on me, devoid of warmth.

"Go ahead."

"If that happens, I’ll lose my medical license and never have to wear this shackle again to save the life of someone I despise. Watching her suffer and die would be revenge enough."

My face turned deathly pale.

It was the truth. I couldn’t deny it.

"But she only did it for me..."

"Of course it was for you."

Wesson cut me off, his voice filled with barely-contained fury, his bloodshot eyes brimming with hatred.

"Ann."

"The biggest regret of my life is meeting you."

My heart dropped like a stone into a bottomless pit.

The truth that had been about to spill out of me froze in my throat, unable to escape.

After that day, I didn’t see Wesson again for a long time.

Meanwhile, my mother’s condition worsened. The cancer relentlessly gnawed at her nerves, leaving her in unbearable pain night after night.

I knew.

She didn’t want to keep going.

One day, she called me to her bedside and clutched my hand tightly.

"My dear, before I go, let me see you on stage one more time, alright?"

My voice trembled as I nodded.

Two days later, I contacted a director I had worked with before and was fortunate enough to secure a role in an upcoming performance.

After three years away from the stage, this was better than I could have hoped for.

The next day, while I was accompanying my mother in the hospital courtyard, Sandra suddenly stormed over.

She raised her hand, but before it could land, Wesson caught her wrist mid-air.

She turned back to glare at him, annoyed.

"Why are you stopping me?"

The sun was blinding, and I didn’t understand why Wesson stopped the slap that was just two centimeters from my face.

His expression darkened as he let go of her wrist.

"There are too many people around. Don’t give them anything to talk about."

Sandra hesitated, then clenched her fist and lowered her hand.

She shot me a venomous glare.

"Ann, you wretched woman, just wait."

With that, she stormed off without looking back.

Watching them walk away, I felt confused.

It wasn’t until that evening, when the director called, that I understood where Sandra’s anger came from.

The role I had been cast in—the leading role in the ballet—had originally been reserved for Sandra.

The director had gone against the grain and chosen me instead.

This was something I had never anticipated.

By nightfall, gossip had flooded the internet, topping the trending lists.

#Renowned Dancer Ann Accused Of Being A Homewrecker

#Ann Makes Her Comeback In Spring Ballet By Director Grayson

#Sandra’s Fiancé — Gifted Surgeon Wesson

My trembling hands clicked on one of the headlines.

The screen filled with footage of me undressing in Wesson’s home.

My head buzzed with heat as I scrolled to Sandra’s original post.

"Does being a senior give you the right to bully juniors? She’s stealing my role in Spring, and now she’s trying to take my fiancé too? Wesson and I firmly condemn this behavior."

Beneath her caption was the now-viral video.

My face went pale.

So this was Wesson’s way of venting Sandra’s anger without giving anyone real evidence against her.