Chapter 3

I looked up in surprise. It was Robinson.

My neighbor, and also a heart patient.

Robinson shielded me behind him. "Gerard came to accompany me for a follow-up. My heart isn't in great shape. She was kind enough to help me out."

Giovanni's gaze swept back and forth between Robinson and me. Jealousy instantly shattered his composure.

"Accompany you?"

He let out a laugh filled with both hatred and panic. "You'd better be careful. After all, staying with a sickly guy has no future. Those are someone's words of wisdom."

Giovanni paused, each word landing like a blow. "Don't end up like me—casually abandoned by her."

With that, he abruptly turned away and strode off without looking back, his retreating figure resolute.

That night at two in the morning, Giovanni pounded on my door.

He was drunk, leaning against the doorframe with bloodshot eyes, staring at me.

"Gerard, don't you have any conscience at all?"

"You abandoned me when I was sick and walked away without a word. Then you show up again acting like you don't know me. Don't you feel even a shred of guilt toward me?"

"Why do you get to accompany someone else to see a heart specialist when you left me all alone back then? Why!"

I looked at him, my chest tightening with pain.

I thought about the doctor's warnings, my empty wallet, and the orphanage director's dying words that people need a good coffin after death so they can have their wishes fulfilled in the next life.

I asked, "Mr. Giovanni, what will it take for you to let me go?"

He stared at me, speaking each word deliberately. "Do three things with me."

"Fine."

The first thing was to take care of him for a day at his apartment.

Giovanni lay in bed like a real patient.

He deliberately knocked over the borscht I'd made, complaining it was too hot, then too cold.

He demanded I adjust his pillow angle every half hour.

He made me read love letters he'd written. None of the letters had a name at the beginning. If I read a single word wrong, I had to start over from the top.

He watched my pale face and sneered. "Can't handle it already? Back then, I suffered far worse than this!"

I bent down to pick up pieces of yet another shattered bowl, cutting my hand.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. I steadied myself against the table, trying to regulate my breathing.

Giovanni suddenly sat up. "You—!"

I quickly interrupted. "I'm fine. Does Mr. Giovanni have any other instructions?"

He stared at me for a long time, then finally lay back down heavily, turning his back to me. "No."

The second thing was to accompany him to pick out a birthday gift for Michelle.

Giovanni pointed at the most expensive necklaces in the jewelry store. "Bring all of these for her to try."

He gestured to me. "You put them on."

"This is a gift for Miss Michelle. It's not appropriate for me to try them."

His tone was firm. "I said try them on."

I complied.

"Ugly."

When I was trying on the fifth one, I raised my hand to adjust the clasp. My sleeve slipped down, revealing new and old scars crisscrossing my wrist.

Giovanni suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I cried out in pain.

His hand was trembling. "What is this?"

I yanked my hand back and pulled down my sleeve. "Old scars."

"When did you get them?"

I looked away. "I don't remember. Should I keep trying? Miss Michelle would probably like the sapphire one."

Giovanni's chest heaved violently. He suddenly grabbed my chin viciously, forcing me to look at him. "Gerard, do you think this will make me soften? This is what you owe me. You deserve to suffer."

In the end, he bought every necklace I'd tried on.

The third thing was to accompany him to a hospital follow-up.

Outside the cardiology consultation room, Giovanni greeted the doctor with practiced ease.

After completing a series of tests, the doctor looked at the report and said with relief, "Mr. Giovanni, the recovery is excellent. This heart is very compatible with you."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Giovanni reflexively glanced at me. I turned my head to stare out the window.

The doctor looked at me a few more times, his brow furrowing.

When the consultation ended and I got up to collect medication, the doctor said to me quietly, "Miss Gerard, you need to take care of your own health too."

I froze.

Giovanni had already walked back in, sneering. "Doctor, you're worrying too much. Someone as cold-hearted as her, who abandoned her seriously ill boyfriend without a second thought—what could possibly be wrong with her? She values her own life more than anyone."