Chapter 1

The night before our divorce, Winston Jones and I went at it like mad. From the bathroom and living room to the balcony—we left traces of our love everywhere. When we were done, he cried in desperation, "Can we not divorce, darling?" Our three-year-old son, Asher Jones, got on his knees as he took my hand. "Please don't leave, Mommy!" I slowly packed up my belongings. "I'm going to live the good life now. Stop trying to drag me down, you losers!" Five years later, Winston became the richest man in Hesperia, and Asher became a world-renowned genius. During a television interview, they sat together and looked into the camera. "We're rich now. Can you please come back?" The next moment, I was pushed onto the stage by the host, looking gaunt and disheveled. I calmly smiled as I looked at Winston and Asher, who looked worked up. "Would you like to sponsor me? I'm cheap." The live stream was abruptly cut off. Winston took Asher's hand and said icily, "You've got the wrong person. My wife would never sell herself like that." "Not everyone is worthy to be my mother," Asher continued. Five years ago, they both had kidney failures. They had no idea I donated both of mine to them in secret. … After leaving the live stream, I ran into Winston and Asher downstairs in the studio building. Winston saw me as well and reached out to stop me. As his suit sleeve shifted up, I noticed a leather bracelet on his wrist—the one I had braided for him five years ago. "Is this the good life you've mentioned, Seraphina?" Winston's piercing gaze swept over my frail body as he coldly said, "It looks like the patron who bought you over isn't treating you too well, either." His blunt, mocking words crushed my dignity, yet I feigned ignorance and smiled at him. "Are you feeling sorry for me now? Why don't you sponsor me instead? I'm well-trained now. I can definitely keep you satisfied as long as the price is right." Winston's chest heaved sharply. "Have you no shame, Seraphina? Do you only have eyes for money and nothing else?" He stared at me intensely. However, his eyebrows relaxed as if recalling something amusing. "Sure. I'll pay 100,000 dollars for you to be my secret lover." Winston dug out a bank card from his pocket and casually tossed it over to my feet. "However, don't make the assumption that I still harbor any feelings for you. I'm sponsoring you just because you're shameless—you'd come wagging your tail anytime I give you money." He would never say such harsh words to me back then. Even when I insisted on a divorce, he had only begged for me not to leave with reddening eyes. However, there was nothing but resentment on his face when he looked at me now. I looked down to conceal the sadness in my eyes. … Winston and I met in our college years. Back then, he wasn't yet a trillionaire, and I wasn't plagued by illness like I was now. Our love story was never dramatic—from dating to marriage, our relationship had always been slow and steady. In the second year of our marriage, I gave birth to the fruit of our love. Wilson sat by the bedside, looking happy as he sweetly said, "Your name symbolizes blessings, while mine symbolizes happiness. Let's call our son Asher, which means 'happy' and 'blessed.'" Back then, I held Asher in my arms as Wilson hugged me. The bedside mirror reflected our hopes for the future. However, the good times didn't last. Five years ago, when Asher was three years old, both he and Winston were diagnosed with kidney failures. We sold everything off just to cover the medical expenses. To save money, I juggled multiple jobs, eating only one meal per day just so I could stretch every penny as far as it would go. I worked myself to the bones, all just to scrape together enough for their medicine. Even then, we had to settle for the cheapest, low-quality generic drugs. However, we still couldn't wait for matching kidneys to come. I watched as Winston and Asher grew thinner by the day, their bodies wasting away. Just then, my doctor finally brought news—a match had been found, and the perfect donor was me.