Chapter 2

I stood frozen in the hospital hallway. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the ICU.

"Why?! Why did you cut off my legs?! My mom has millions! Give them back to me!"

Julian was losing his mind. He grabbed his pillows and hurled them at the nurses, punching frantically at the empty space beneath his hospital gown.

The long, athletic legs he used to brag about were gone. Now, there were only two thick, heavily bandaged stumps.

I rushed into the room. The moment Julian saw me, he burst into tears.

"Chloe, please! Give me your phone. I need to call my mom."

"I need to ask her why she wouldn't give you the $300,000 to save my legs! That money isn't even enough for her weekly shopping spree! How can she do this to her own son?!"

I looked at his own phone sitting on the nightstand, completely smashed from the crash.

With a heavy sigh, I handed him mine.

Julian’s hands shook so violently he could barely hold the phone. But no matter how many times he dialed, the call wouldn't go through. Victoria had turned off her phone.

Julian let out a guttural roar of frustration. He couldn't comprehend why his mother was being so heartless.

But I knew the truth. Victoria thought the person on the operating table was Ethan, her stepson with whom she shared no blood.

Julian grabbed my sleeve, his eyes begging.

"Chloe, please go find her. Ask her for the money for my rehab. Please..."

I looked down at him with pity and patted his hand.

"Don't worry. I'll go find her right now. Wait for me."

I sent a quick Snapchat to Ethan, asking him to come to the hospital to watch Julian.

Then, I drove straight to the marina and boarded the mega-yacht.

The Christmas party was incredibly lavish. Victoria was surrounded by high-society sycophants. She was wearing a custom white Dior gown that made her look like royalty.

She raised her glass of expensive champagne. But the moment she spotted me, her smile instantly vanished.

Victoria frowned in disgust and turned to the crowd.

"Look, everyone. Just because I refused to give her $300,000 earlier, this little leech has chased me all the way here."

Hearing this, the guests began to sneer and whisper.

"Oh, is this the stray Arthur left behind with his ex-wife?"

"Gosh, how does she have the nerve to ask Victoria for money? Victoria was kind enough to raise her deceased husband’s kids. If I were her, I would have thrown them out long ago."

"I heard she and her brother haven’t visited Victoria once since they graduated high school. What ungrateful wolves."

The sharp whispers pierced through me. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.

My biological mother died in a car accident when I was ten.

The next year, my dad married Victoria, claiming he wanted a mother to take care of Ethan and me.

Back then, I smiled and told Ethan, "We have a new mom now. She’s going to love us."

But three years after marrying Victoria, my dad passed away from illness.

He left Victoria a massive inheritance, but his will was clear: Victoria had to fund our education and living expenses until we graduated. He also left a trust fund for Ethan, Julian, and me—shares of the Miller Group that we could only inherit once we turned eighteen.

A sudden flame of rage ignited in my chest.

No wonder Victoria refused to pay for the surgery when she thought it was Ethan.

She wanted to make sure Ethan became a cripple so she could steal his shares for her own son. After all, a disabled heir would face immense opposition from the board.

I couldn’t help but wonder: how would she react when she found out the boy without legs was her own beloved son?