When we met again, he pinned me against the cold office wall, his voice laced with poison. “Su Nianqing, you’ll never repay what you owe me in this lifetime.”
I silently swallowed the truth that my grandmother was critically ill, letting him make me repay my debt with humiliation, day and night.
Until he tore up my pregnancy test. “A bastard like this doesn’t deserve to be born.”
That night, I burned every paper star I’d folded for him, only to dig a yellowed medical report from the ashes
On the night he vanished three years ago, the medical record clearly read: “Consent for brain tumor surgery: Family member’s signature, Su Nianqing.”
