Chapter 4

I aimed the camera at the fire, at the scene of the store being destroyed, at Andrew being trampled underfoot.

The comments scrolled frantically:

"What's happening here?"

"This is violence, right?"

"Has anyone called the police?"

"It's that Alice woman's store!"

"Beat her good! Make this fake do-gooder lose everything!"

I stared at the screen, my voice calm with a slight tremor:

"Hello everyone, I'm Alice. What you're seeing now is my husband being attacked."

"For three days, my front door has been vandalized, my store has been besieged, my husband has been trampled on the ground. And all of this is because I stopped supporting 101 children."

"So far, I've supported them for three years, totaling about 2 million dollars, with transfer records for every transaction."

"As for why I suddenly stopped the support, I didn't want to say this—"

I pulled out several pieces of paper from my pocket and unfolded them in front of the camera.

It was a medical examination report. Dated five days ago.

In the diagnosis section, in black and white: Malignant stomach tumor, mid-stage.

In my past life, by the time I learned I had stomach cancer, it was already late-stage. After being reborn, the first thing I did was go to the hospital for a checkup.

"I stopped the support because I also need money for treatment. I didn't want to make this public to avoid worrying everyone. But now, I have no choice but to tell you."

"I also want to continue supporting the children's education and living expenses, but my body won't allow it. My husband's health isn't good either. Our treatment costs will be a significant, perhaps ongoing expense."

By the end, I was crying openly.

The comments went crazy:

"Wait... stomach cancer?"

"She didn't say this before!"

"If she's sick, of course she needs money for treatment!"

"Those people forced her to donate and pushed her to this?"

"Wait, if she's sick why didn't she say so? If she had, who would criticize her?"

"If she said something, wouldn't she be accused of playing the victim?"

"So for three days she's been cyberbullied and never explained?"

Seeing my goal achieved, I turned off the stream.

In the distance, police sirens grew closer, and the situation was finally brought under control.

Police began registering identities and taking away the ringleaders.

I helped Andrew back home. He was amazed to discover that the children who had been coming every day to make a scene had vanished.

Only reporters remained, staking out the area. When they saw us, instead of the previous hostility, they showed concern and sympathy:

"Ms. Alice, when did you first learn about your stomach problems?"

"Ms. Alice, how are you feeling now? What are your plans for treatment?"

Andrew's mouth hung open in shock.

Back home, he hugged me tightly.

"Alice, when did you get a checkup? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry." I patted his back. "It's okay. It's not late-stage. It can be treated."

When I opened my phone again to check the related news, just as I expected, the online opinion that had been one-sidedly criticizing me had reversed.

A senior commentator even wrote an in-depth article specifically about this, stating:

"Donating is a favor, not donating is within one's rights."

"Is this really an unscrupulous businesswoman faking charity, or ungrateful children engaging in donation extortion!?"

"Let us wait and see. Waiting for the reversal."