Chapter 3A Lifetime Debt

The rain poured heavily. I was soaked to the bone, my wound irritated by the rainwater, causing agonizing pain. By the time I returned with the porridge, two hours had passed.

Clutching the insulated container, I dragged my heavy steps back to the hospital room door, only to hear laughter from inside.

“Uncle Damian, you’re so mean, tormenting my sister like that. Will she hate us?”

“Hate? What right does she have to hate?” Damian’s voice carried a hint of languor and disdain. “A person like her would eat dirt if you paid her enough. One hundred dollars for running an errand? She’s probably thrilled.”

“True. I heard her brother owes another mountain of debt and is being chased to have his hand chopped off.”

“Hmph. A family of leeches.”

I stood at the door, the insulated container in my hand feeling like a thousand pounds. So, he knew everything. He knew my brother was being hunted by creditors, knew I desperately needed money. That’s why he so brazenly exploited it, trampling my dignity underfoot.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. “The porridge is back.”

I placed the container on the table, dripping water, which pooled into a puddle on the floor. Damian frowned at the water on the ground, taking a step back in disgust. “You dirtied the floor. Don’t you know to clean it up?” He then added, “Also, who let you in? You reek of dampness. What if you make Julian sick?”

Julian covered her nose, a look of revulsion on her face. “Sister, why do you smell so… metallic? It’s disgusting.”

It was the smell of blood. The wound in my abdomen had likely reopened, blood mixed with rainwater, dripping down. But I said nothing. I turned, picked up the mop, and silently cleaned the water from the floor. Each movement felt like a knife twisting in my abdomen.

Just then, my phone rang. It was that exclusive ringtone—my brother’s creditor. My hand trembled, and the mop clattered to the floor. Damian raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “What, is the death warrant here?”

I shakily answered the phone. “Eliza Blackwell, your useless brother was caught cheating at the casino. They’re going to chop off one of his hands. Bring five million dollars immediately, or prepare to collect his corpse.”

Five million dollars. Where would I get five million dollars? In these three years, all the money Damian had given me had been poured into that bottomless pit. I looked at Damian, my eyes holding a final plea. “Damian, could you… could you advance me a year’s worth of my… services? Please.”

Damian looked as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. He walked over to me, his slender fingers lifted a strand of my wet hair, then flung it away in disgust. “AdBlackwell? Eliza Blackwell, have you forgotten? Our contract expires in a month.” He scrutinized me from head to toe, his gaze like that of someone evaluating an expired product. “Do you really think this withered, decaying self of yours is still worth five million dollars?” He paused. “However, for the sake of that hundred-dollar porridge, I can point you in a direction.”

He pointed to Julian. “Julian’s shoes are dirty. Lick them clean for her. One shoe, one hundred thousand. What do you say? Good deal, isn’t it?”

Julian wore a pair of diamond-studded high heels, the tops of which had a few speckles of mud. She feigned surprise. “Uncle Damian, is that really okay? Sister is your wife, after all.”

“Wife?” Damian scoffed. “She’s nothing more than a high-class prostitute.” He looked at me, his eyes cold. “Eliza Blackwell, are you doing it or not? If not, get out and let your brother die.”

I bit my lip so hard that my mouth filled with the taste of blood. Fifty shoes. That meant five million dollars. Just fifty licks, and my brother would live.

I slowly knelt. My knees hit the hard tile floor with a sharp crack. The mockery in Damian’s eyes deepened. “See, Julian? I told you she was cheap bone.”

I crawled to Julian’s feet, looking at her shoes. Just as I was about to lower my head, the hospital room door was suddenly flung open. A person covered in blood burst in.

“Eliza, run! They’re after me!”

It was my brother. He only had one hand; the other sleeve was empty, still dripping blood. Behind him, several fierce-looking men were in close pursuit.

“Run? Run where?” The lead thug grabbed my brother’s hair, forcing him to the ground. “Mr. Wren, apologies for the disturbance. This kid owes us money and won’t pay. We have no choice.” The thug clearly recognized Damian, and his tone was somewhat polite.

Damian nonchalantly sat back on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. “Do as you please. Just don’t get my place dirty.”

“Damian!” I shrieked, lunging forward to shield my brother. “Please, save him. I’ll be your slave, I’ll do anything you say.”

Damian exhaled a plume of smoke. Through the haze, his face was terrifyingly cold. “Eliza Blackwell, I gave you a chance. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

The thug raised his machete.

“No!” I screamed in despair, blocking my brother with my body. However, the anticipated pain didn’t come. The thug stopped, looking at Damian. Damian flicked his cigarette ash, then spoke softly.

“Wait.” I thought he had softened, and a glimmer of hope sparked in my eyes. But then I heard him continue: “Julian’s kidneys haven’t been well lately; the doctor says she needs a transplant. Since your brother can’t pay his debt, then your kidney can settle it.” He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “One kidney, five million. Fair, isn’t it?”