No matter how much Lan Xia wanted to curl into a corner and die of embarrassment, life did not pause for humiliation.
Her mother was still fighting for breath behind an ICU door.
Her family was unraveling thread by thread.
And she needed to stand—no matter how shaky her legs felt.
She took several breaths to calm her pounding heart before heading toward Shen Ling's ward.
But when she pushed the door open, she stopped short.
Someone was already sitting beside her mother's bed.
It's Zhao Wang, her damn ex-fiance.
He looked as if he belonged there—elbows on his knees, head lowered, voice low and casual as he said, the moment he noticed her: "I already paid Auntie's medical fees. Since the Lan family seems to be falling apart, it might be better to rent a room here permanently."
The cruelty wrapped in those light words made her chest tighten.
She let out a soft scoff.
He had humiliated her, insulted her, thrown her aside—but now he wanted to play savior?
"No need," she said coolly. "Give me the bill. I'll return the money."
He frowned sharply. "With what? The Lan family has nothing."
His words hit her like stones.
Once, that same mouth had said he wanted to marry her.
Now, all it spit was scorn.
She had loved him for so long.
Too long, maybe.
Long enough that she hadn't realized how much he had changed… or how much she had.
Then, with a cruel curl of his lips, he added, "Or will you repay me by being my mistress?"
His words sliced straight through her like a blade.
But she smiled—icy, practiced, the kind of smile that hid bruises deep beneath the skin.
"Young Master Zhao, you're overthinking. If you insist on paying the hospital bill for your fiancée's sister's mother, who am I to disagree? We are, after all, related by blood. It's only natural to support family."
His face darkened instantly.
"Lan Xia," he said, voice dropping, "you know you pushed me into another woman's arms. Do you really feel nothing? Do you think you can erase everything between us with a few indifferent sentences?"
She didn't answer.
And her silence infuriated him.
He shot to his feet, shoved the chair back, and stormed out. The door slammed so hard the walls trembled.
From the hallway, his final words echoed back: "You brought this on yourself!"
She closed her eyes.
Yes.
She knew.
Even if he hadn't said it, she would never forget it.
His friends' voices rang in her memory—voices strained with desperation and blame.
"Lan Xia, would you care if Zhao Wang died?!"
And her own voice, cold and distant, the one she had spoken with a lifetime ago:
"I didn't ask him to love me."
Time was cruel.
She had forgotten how arrogant she once was.
Forgotten how deeply she had wounded him.
And now the wounds were returned.
Not long after he left, his assistant, Zhu Ranqing, approached her with a respectful nod and a folder.
"Miss Lan, here is the hospital invoice you requested."
She opened it—and felt her heart sink.
The numbers were astronomical.
"Mr. Zhao asked me to inform you," Zhu continued politely, "that he expects repayment within three days. If the amount is not settled within that time, he will visit you personally… to calculate the interest."
Her fingers tightened around the invoice.
He knew she had no money.
He knew her family was crumbling.
He knew she was alone.
And he still pushed.
Still punished.
But she had no room for pride anymore.
She needed the money.
She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Assistant Zhu."
The hospital held her longer than she liked, keeping her informed about Shen Ling's condition. By the time she stepped outside, the sun had already begun to tilt toward the horizon, painting the world gold.
She hugged her new coat around herself and forced her feet toward the direction she least wanted to go.
Home.
To beg her father for money.
To humble herself before the man who had abandoned her mother, who had embraced another woman, who had turned their home into someone else's territory.
Anything… anything…
To avoid owing Zhao Wang.
Especially now that he belonged to Lan Jingyi.
She walked faster, ignoring the ache in her foot and the sting behind her eyes.
*
No matter how her father felt about Lin Huiyue now, Lan Xia clung to one last scrap of hope. He had spent decades with her mother—surely, surely, seeing Shen Ling sick again would soften him. Surely he would not turn his back on the woman who had once been the rightful mistress of this house.
With that stubborn thread of faith, she pushed open the front door of the Lan home.
And instantly felt like she had stepped into another world.
The living room was bustling with people, laughter, congratulatory chatter, and clinking teacups. Luxury shopping bags and wrapped gifts were piled on the coffee table. A large mirror had been dragged into the center of the room, and in front of it, surrounded by admiring women, stood Lan Jingyi, wearing a white engagement dress.
"The embroidery is custom-made," Lin Huiyue gushed before Lan Xia could even enter fully. "But this is only for the engagement party. Zhao Wang said the actual wedding dress must be ordered from England—such taste!"
One of the wealthy wives clasped her hands together in delight. "Mrs. Lan, you're blessed! Your daughter has truly become a golden phoenix. The Lan family is rising again thanks to her!"
It was ironic. These same women, who used to whisper behind fans about Huiyue's shameless past, were now tripping over themselves to bring gifts and curry favor.
The Zhao family was powerful—three sons, one daughter. The oldest ran a financial empire overseas, the second managed international real estate, and the youngest… Zhao Wang… would inherit everything.
"So enviable," another rich wife sighed. "Your Jingyi will become the Zhao family's third young madam. Her future will be limitless!"
Flattery filled the room like warm steam.
No one noticed the doorway darken as Lan Xia stepped inside—except for Lin Huiyue, whose eyes flicked over immediately. Her lips stretched into a smile so sweet it almost hurt to look at.
"Lan Xia! You're back. How's your mother? She must be fine now, right?" Her tone was concerned on the surface, but underneath it flowed something sharp and mocking.
Lan Xia didn't answer her smile. But she refused to start a fight. Not here. Not now.
"I'm looking for Father," she said simply.
"Oh? Someone from work is speaking with him. He's in the study upstairs," Huiyue replied, beaming with the glow of her daughter's success. For once, she didn't even try to block Lan Xia's path—too drunk on victory to bother.
"Why don't you wait? He didn't seem in a very good mood," she added lightly.
The reminder of how that woman had manhandled her mother earlier burned fresh in Lan Xia's memory. She offered no response and began climbing the stairs.
Behind her, whispers trailed like poison smoke.
"So arrogant. Even now."
"She's fallen far from the future Zhao young mistress to a useless daughter of a declining family. What a joke."
"Mrs. Lan, you must keep an eye on that girl. She'll ruin your family name."
Lan Xia's fingers clenched the banister until her knuckles whitened, but she didn't pause or look back. She swallowed the bitterness and knocked on the study door.
It opened almost immediately.
Her father's face darkened the moment he saw her.
"Why are you here? Didn't Huiyue say I'm busy with an important guest?"
She forced herself to breathe evenly. "Dad… Mom's condition worsened. She had to be rushed to the hospital. The fees… I can't afford them right now. Once I earn money from the shop, I'll pay you back. But just this once—can you help?"
His eyes flashed with indignation, anger, disgust—she wasn't sure which. "You jinx!" he snapped. "After the disgrace you caused today, you still dare come asking for money? Dream on!"
Her breath caught.
"I've supported you and that useless woman for years. That's more than enough. Now get out! I'm busy. I don't want to see you!"
The door slammed in her face.
The sound echoed down the hallway, hollow and cruel.
Lan Xia stood frozen, staring at the closed door as her last sliver of hope shattered quietly inside her chest.
Her father wouldn't help.
Zhao Wang wouldn't help—not without humiliation.
Her mother was in the ICU.
And she had less than three days to find a fortune.
What was she supposed to do now?