CHAPTER 3: CHAPTER 3: MISS STERLING, THE BOSS SENT ME TO PICK YOU UP

On the next day, just at the break of dawn, Clara Sterling got up to make breakfast.

Yvonne Sterling also slept poorly.

In the night, the stomach pain tormented her awake several times.

But afraid of worrying her daughter, she endured it silently.

It was only when her daughter called her for breakfast that she pretended to have just woken up and got up to eat.

Clara had no appetite at all, and while her mother was eating, she helped pack the things needed for her mother’s hospital stay.

After finishing her meal, Yvonne went to the bedroom, just about to call Clara, when she saw her daughter sitting on the bed with tears streaming down, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Yvonne sighed, turning her face away as tears involuntarily fell.

After her mother finished eating, Clara carried a luggage bag in one hand and held her mother’s arm with the other as they walked outside.

Just as they stepped out of the community, Clara paused at the sight of the familiar Maybach.

The driver got out of the car and approached them, speaking with utmost respect, "Miss Sterling, the boss sent me to pick you up."

Clara’s breath caught.

Her instinct was to refuse.

In the chill of a December morning, a gust of cold wind swept by, causing her mother to shiver.

Her mother’s health now was too fragile to withstand the cold wind outside.

Moreover, since the driver was already here, refusing would be difficult, and it wouldn’t be easy for the driver to explain if she declined.

Clara politely thanked him.

The driver placed their luggage bag in the trunk.

The driver asked, "Miss Sterling, where are you headed?"

"City Central Hospital."

"Alright."

After the car drove for a while, Yvonne asked, "Clara, who sent the driver to pick us up?"

Clara pursed her lips and replied, "It was Sophie’s brother."

"Oh, it’s Sophie’s brother." Yvonne smiled gently, "Do you still keep in touch with Sophie?"

Back in high school, Sophie Sheffield had come to their home several times for dinner.

Sophie had a cheerful personality, was articulate, and very polite, always making Yvonne laugh, like a little sun, leaving a good impression on her.

Clara replied, "Yes, we keep in touch — she’s coming back to the country soon."

Sophie had gone abroad for studies right after graduating high school, and just a few days ago, she sent a message saying she was coming back to the country soon.

"I like that child’s personality. When she comes back..." Yvonne intended to suggest inviting Sophie over for dinner when she returned home.

But the thought of her own cancer made her swallow the words unsaid.

Clara noticed the change in her mother’s mood and gently squeezed her hand in silent comfort.

She opened WhatsApp and found that Silas Sheffield hadn’t accepted her transfer from last night, only replied with a message.

Silas: [No need to be so courteous.]

Clara looked at her chat interface with Silas; they rarely contacted each other.

Apart from last night’s transfer, the last message was on her birthday three months ago.

He had sent "Happy Birthday," and she had replied, "Thank you."

Further up was during New Year when he sent "Happy New Year," and she replied, "Same to you."

Clara edited the message "Thank you for sending the driver to pick us up."

After thinking for a moment, she added "Silas" at the beginning and changed "you" to "you" for a more polite tone.

After sending the message, Clara exited the chat interface, and when she saw the pinned contact at the top on WhatsApp, her breath caught.

Last night, she didn’t have the time to deal with Isaac Sutton’s WhatsApp.

Upon seeing the pinned contact’s note "Baby" again, she could only find it laughable.

Clara originally intended to directly block Isaac, but considering her mother’s illness, she hesitated for a moment.

Isaac had been with her for two years, during which she’d looked after him meticulously, working three jobs for his sake.

Even taking care of a pet for two years would yield some affection, right?

Last night, she heard he spent three hundred thousand on a bag for someone else. If she asked to borrow money, would he lend it?

...

After handling her mother’s hospitalization paperwork, Clara, after much deliberation, still sent Isaac a message.

[Reply when you wake up, I have something to discuss.]

It wasn’t until two thirty in the afternoon that Isaac replied.

[Baby, a classmate had a birthday yesterday, and we went to sing karaoke. It got a bit late; everyone went, and it wouldn’t have been good if I left early.]

Right now, Clara was consumed with thoughts of raising money for her mother’s treatment, having grown numb to Isaac’s deceit and manipulation.

She stepped out of the ward into the hallway to call Isaac.

On the phone, Isaac, just waking up, called her "Baby" in a low, enticing voice.

Previously, Clara loved it when he called her "Baby" in his sleepy, dazed voice, but now, knowing the truth, she only felt disgust.

"Isaac Sutton," she called him by his full name, her tone serious and earnest.

"What’s the matter, Baby?" Isaac still tried to flirt, "Why aren’t you calling me Baby anymore? Are you angry because I came home late last night? Baby, I’m sorry, I promise there won’t be a next time. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?"

Clara took a deep breath, as if mustering the courage, and said, "Isaac, can you lend me some money?"

He seemed surprised by her request, and after a few seconds of silence, he replied, "Why are you suddenly asking me to lend you money? You know...I’m...my family is really poor, and I don’t have much money myself..."

Clara’s heart tightened painfully, her voice strained, "Isaac, my mom is sick and urgently needs money. Can you find a way to lend me some? I can write a note; I’ll definitely pay you back."

Isaac fell silent again.

He seemed to be contemplating.

Clara didn’t say anything more, waiting for his response.

Every second stretched on endlessly.

Finally, Isaac spoke once more on the other end.

However, his answer made Clara feel as though she had fallen into an ice cave.

"Baby, are you testing my sincerity? If I had money, I would certainly give it to you, never mind lending it; I’d be willing to let you spend all of it. But I really don’t have any money right now."

"Baby, this joke isn’t funny at all. Even if you’re testing me, don’t joke about our mom’s health."

Clara closed her eyes, a tear slipping from the corner.

Even at this point, he was still pretending to be poor.

Constantly calling her mother "our mom," yet wouldn’t even lend money.

The phone nearly trembled in Clara’s hand, "Isaac, if you won’t lend me money, that’s fine. Just give me back the money I spent on you."

In the past two years, the amount spent on Isaac amounted to at least thirty or forty thousand.

Clara was angry at herself for misjudging him before, angry at herself for being too love-struck.

She lived frugally, giving him money to spend, wearing the same down jacket for three years without buying a new one, yet unhesitatingly bought him a thousand-yuan down jacket for fear he’d catch a cold.

How ridiculous.

When Isaac heard she wanted him to return the money, he questioned in a bewildered tone, "Baby, what do you mean? You’re actually asking me to pay you back? Why?"

Clara laughed self-deprecatingly, "Suddenly, it feels so pointless."

"You’re tired of me?" Isaac’s voice sounded somewhat hurt.

"Yes."

"Baby, did I do something wrong to make you angry? Tell me, I can change." Isaac pleaded humbly, "Don’t leave me. I’m willing to do whatever you want, I can’t be without you."

"Really?" Clara heard her own mocking voice, "Then give me a million."

"What?" Isaac couldn’t believe his ears, "A million? Baby, you know I don’t have money, you’re saying this on purpose because you’re determined to break up, aren’t you?"

Clara felt utterly despondent, "Isaac, is this fun for you?"