## After three years of taking care of a man with amnesia, he finally recovered. The first thing he did? Get engaged to his first love. I showed up with a box full of cash—the payment for cutting all ties between us. He smirked, casually pulling a stack of bills from the box and handing it to me. With a raised eyebrow, he said: “Takes money to seduce someone, doesn’t it?” 0I stared at the diagnosis in my hand for what felt like an eternity. I used to want to die. I tried everything—slitting my wrists, jumping off buildings, even hanging myself—but somehow, I always survived. Now, just when I’ve finally found a reason to live, life decides to play a cruel joke on me. As I walked out of the hospital, my mind spiraled. If I die, what will happen to Connor? Connor is the man I found three years ago. He didn’t know who he was, so I gave him a name—Connor. He’s… special. A child in a man’s body. If I’m gone, who will take care of him? With that heavy thought weighing me down, I returned home. The front door was wide open. My stomach sank. Inside stood a man in a tailored suit, smiling like someone who didn’t want to be there but had a job to do. “Miss Moore,” he said, his voice smooth but cold. “We need to talk about Connor.” “Connor—” I began, but he cut me off. He opened a briefcase sitting on the table. Stacks of cash. “What’s this supposed to mean?” I asked, my throat tightening. “This,” he said with a polite smile, “is a token of gratitude for taking care of our Young Master all this time.” “And,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, “we trust you won’t speak to anyone about his… condition.” He was still smiling, but the threat in his eyes was unmistakable. I swallowed hard. “I don’t want your money.” “No?” He chuckled, his gaze sweeping over me like I was a beggar who didn’t know her place. “Not enough for you? Or…” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you hoping to latch onto the Grant family?” I froze, stunned, and before I could respond, he pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “If you change your mind,” he said, his tone clipped, “call the number on this card. But as for everything else…” His smile faded. “Keep it to yourself.” The diagnosis paper in my hand crumpled as I clenched my fist. Any hope I had of fighting this—of living—was crushed under the weight of that briefcase. 0
Curiosity got the better of me. I looked up the Grant family online. The first image that popped up was Connor—or, as I now learned, Austin Grant, heir to the Grant fortune. His world and mine couldn’t have been more different. The money in that briefcase? I couldn’t earn that much in a lifetime. After some thought, I called the number on the card. “Miss Moore,” the man answered, his voice calm and smug. “You’ve made up your mind so soon?” “I don’t want the money,” I said quietly. “Not enough, is it?” he said, almost amused. “Makes sense. Cancer treatments these days cost millions. A single injection can run up to $200,000.” “How much do you need?” My hand trembled as I gripped the phone. “I’m not planning to treat it.” The line went silent for a moment before he finally spoke. “Miss Moore, the Grant family isn’t the kind of place you can just walk into.” “Yes, you cared for the Young Master for three years, but that doesn’t mean you have a place here. Especially since…” He paused, as if savoring the blow he was about to deliver. “The Young Master is already engaged to someone else.” It felt like a rope had tightened around my chest, squeezing the air out of me. My voice shook as I replied, “I don’t want to be part of the Grant family.” “And I won’t tell anyone about Austin’s condition.” “I just…” My voice broke. “I don’t want your money.” Because taking their money would cheapen everything. It would make those three years—every moment I spent with Connor—feel like a transaction. The man sighed. “Miss Moore, this money is your compensation. I’m just doing my job. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Before I could respond, he hung up. The dim light in the living room cast long shadows. Near the door sat a bag of empty bottles—Connor’s latest collection. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday. I’d searched everywhere but couldn’t find him. Exhausted and terrified, I had collapsed on the couch, crying my heart out. Then, late that night, Connor came home, covered in dirt and carrying a sack over his shoulder. When he saw me crying, he panicked. “Don’t cry, Harper!” he said, his black eye from a fight making him look even more ridiculous. He grinned and held up the sack. “Look! I found so many bottles today!” “A few old guys tried to take them from me, but I was too fast!” he added proudly. “Don’t worry, Harper. I can take care of you. You don’t need that man, okay?” I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry as I pulled him into a hug. “If you ever run off like that again,” I said, trying to sound stern, “I’m not keeping you anymore.” His eyes turned red as he clung to my sleeve. “I’ll collect so many bottles. Don’t leave me, okay? Please don’t leave me.” But in the end, it wasn’t me who left. It was him. And this time, it wasn’t me who gave up on him. It was him who gave up on me. 0
When there’s no reason to live, there’s no reason to seek treatment either. I decided to check myself out of the hospital. As I was leaving the house, I accidentally knocked over the small clay figurine sitting on the cabinet. I glanced at it for a moment, then shut the door behind me. At the hospital, the discharge process went smoothly—until I noticed Connor’s name on the inpatient list. I grabbed the nurse’s arm, my voice trembling. “Austin… is he the Young Master of the Grant family?” She yanked her arm away, scoffing. “And what if he is?” she sneered, giving me a once-over. “Someone like you thinks they can climb their way into the Grant family?” Her gaze burned into me, and I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. Humiliated, I turned and ran out of the hospital. But later that day, I packed up the briefcase of money and headed back. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to ask the nurses where Connor’s room was—I didn’t want to see the judgment in their eyes. So I wandered through the hospital, floor by floor, peeking through room windows, hoping I’d find him. “Harper?” A familiar voice called out, and I froze. Hugging the briefcase closer to my chest, I turned around. It was Dr. James. “Dr. James…” He smiled kindly. “Here to pay for treatment?” I shook my head. He frowned, confused. “You know, with treatment, there’s a good chance your condition could be cured.” There might be a chance for a cure, but there’s no cure for the emptiness in my heart. “If you have the money, why not save yourself?” he pressed. I forced a bitter smile. “This money… it’s not mine.” He hesitated. “Then what are you planning to do with it?” I cut him off before he could finish. “Dr. James, do you know which room Austin is in?” He studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Fourth floor, second door on the left.” Patting my shoulder, he added, “If you need help, you know where to find me.” I nodded and made my way up to the fourth floor. Standing outside the room, I hesitated for what felt like an eternity before finally knocking. The door opened to reveal a man with a commanding presence, someone I recognized instantly from my online search. It was Austin’s older brother—Elliot Grant, the current head of the Grant family. He didn’t seem surprised to see me. With a slight nod, he motioned for me to come in. As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes were drawn to the hospital bed. Connor—no, Austin—was lying there, looking completely at ease. Beside him sat a poised, elegant woman in designer clothes. She cut a slice of apple and held it up to his lips, and he took it with a soft look in his eyes. I stood frozen, gripping the briefcase so tightly my knuckles turned white. Then, slowly, I let go. What was the point? 0
It wasn’t until Austin had eaten a few more slices of apple that he finally noticed me. Wiping his mouth with a tissue, he asked coldly, “Why are you here?” His gaze was sharp, indifferent, and it made me take two steps back instinctively. This wasn’t the Connor I knew—the one who used to follow me around like a lost puppy, calling me Harper. This was Austin Grant, heir to the Grant family empire. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and opened the briefcase. “The money,” I said quietly, “I didn’t spend a single cent. I’m here to return it.” Austin’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a faint, mocking smile. “Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Are you here to claim the title of Mrs. Grant?” I froze, stunned by his words. “I—what?” I stammered, unable to believe what he’d just said. He leaned back against the bed, his smile cold and distant. “You think you’re worthy?” The room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Setting the briefcase down on the floor, I turned and fled the room. I made it to the stairwell, gripping the railing as I gasped for air. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. “Crying?” The voice behind me was familiar, and it sent a chill down my spine. I wiped my eyes quickly and muttered, “No.” Austin stepped closer, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. His lips curled into a smirk as he pulled a stack of cash from his pocket and shoved it into my hands. “Eat something,” he said with a mocking tilt of his head. “Your figure’s disappearing. It takes resources to seduce someone, you know.” I stood there, frozen, as his words pierced through me like knives. He turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the stairwell, clutching the money in my trembling hands. It wasn’t until his silhouette disappeared that I snapped out of it. “Connor…” I whispered his name like a plea, but he was gone. I stumbled out of the hospital, tears streaming down my face, not knowing where to go. I pulled out the stack of cash he had given me and stared at it for a long time. In this city, it felt like I was the only one left. 04 When I got home, the first thing I saw was a pile of broken pieces scattered across the floor. Among them were dozens of paper stars. I picked one up and carefully unfolded it. Inside, in messy handwriting, it read: “Harper, always stay happy!” It was part of a birthday gift from Connor. After my parents passed away, I stopped celebrating birthdays. Life had lost its meaning, and so had those special days. I found Connor three years ago. He was lying in an alley, bleeding and barely conscious. Out of pity, I brought him home. When he woke up, I realized he wasn’t… normal. But he was sweet. He’d smile at me like a child and call me “Harper” in the softest, most affectionate voice. Sometimes, he’d wrap his arms around me and whine for attention like I was the only safe thing in his world. In a city that felt cold and foreign, Connor became my anchor. He gave me a reason to keep going. There were days I thought about finding his family and sending him home. One time, I even took him to the police station to report him as missing. He was so calm and obedient the entire way—until I turned to leave. That’s when he grabbed my sleeve, his eyes turning red as he whispered: “Harper… you’re not going to leave me, are you?” I gently pried his hand away and forced a smile. “I’m just going to buy you some candy, okay? Be a good boy and wait for me.” He sat down on a chair, looking like a lost puppy, his wide eyes following me as I walked away. I thought that was the end of us. But three days later, on my way home from work, I saw him digging through a trash can. “Connor?” I called out, shocked. He froze, then slowly turned around. His face was streaked with dirt, and when he saw me, tears welled up in his eyes. “Connor, what are you doing here?” His voice trembled as he reached out toward me, his hand hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him touch me. “Harper… I’ll be good,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t leave me again.” It turned out he’d run away from the police station that same night. He thought I didn’t want him anymore. I was furious, but I couldn’t stay mad. I pulled him into a hug, my heart aching as he clung to me like a lifeline. That winter night was freezing, but we stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, two kids without a home, trying to keep warm. Back then, I thought we’d always be together. 0
The following summer, I celebrated Connor’s birthday for the first time. By the end of the day, his face was covered in frosting, but he just sat there grinning at me like a little kid. “Harper,” he asked suddenly, “when’s your birthday?” “December 22,” I told him casually, not thinking much of it. I didn’t expect him to remember. But when that day came, he showed up with a small, clumsy clay figurine cradled carefully in his hands. “Harper, happy birthday!” he said, beaming. The figurine was… well, ugly. Its belly had been scratched with the words: “Connor only loves Harper.” “Only loves?” I teased, laughing. “Do you even know what that means?” Connor puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course I do! It means I only love one person.” “I only love Harper!” Now, that little clay figurine—marked with “Connor only loves Harper”—lay shattered on the floor. There was no piecing it back together. Back then, I thought the figurine was the entire gift, so I tucked it away without a second thought. I didn’t realize there was something hidden inside. No wonder he pouted for days whenever I ignored it. Curious, I unfolded another paper star from the pile. This one read: “We’ll always be together.” At the bottom, there was a crude drawing of two stick figures holding hands. The effort he’d put into it was obvious, even through the childish scribbles. I stared at it for a long time, my fingers brushing over the tiny hearts he’d drawn around the edges. A tear slipped down my cheek, smudging the ink. “You little liar,” I whispered. 0
When all is said and done, I just want to go home. I sold my apartment, and the money was just enough to buy a burial plot. I’ll be laid to rest next to my parents. I also sold the bag of bottles Connor had collected. It brought in a grand total of sixteen dollars and fifty cents. “With this little money, how were you ever planning to take care of me?” I muttered to myself, half-laughing, half-crying. The paperwork was done. In two days, I’d leave this city full of painful memories. But the day before I was supposed to leave, an unexpected guest showed up. “Elliot?” He looked slightly surprised. “You know who I am? I’m honored.” “What do you want?” I asked, wary. Elliot’s face held that same polite, unreadable smile. “Miss Moore, I’d like to invite you to be my date for an event.” “Your date?” I stared at him, baffled. Rich people’s logic never made sense to me. He was handsome, wealthy, and powerful. Women would throw themselves at him with just a snap of his fingers. Why on earth would he ask someone like me—average in every way, with no fortune or connections? I was about to decline when he added, “My brother Austin will be there, too.” I hesitated. Even if I couldn’t say goodbye to Connor, maybe I could see him one last time from a distance. I didn’t know Elliot’s motives, but I still agreed. What could someone like me—a woman with no family and a terminal illness—possibly have to lose? Elliot provided a gown for the event. I stood in front of the mirror, nervously smoothing the fabric. When he saw me, a flicker of admiration crossed his face, though it was quickly masked with his usual composure. He draped a delicate necklace around my neck and chuckled. “Austin wasn’t just dumb. He was blind, too.” I pressed my lips together, choosing not to respond. When we arrived, I realized this wasn’t just any event. It was Austin’s engagement party. He stood in the center of the room, effortlessly elegant, exuding an air of cold detachment. He looked like something out of a winter dream—strong, poised, and untouchable, like bamboo standing tall in the snow. Next to him was his fiancée, wearing a dazzling white gown that sparkled like she’d wrapped herself in starlight. She was radiant, the kind of beautiful that made everyone else fade into the background. The emcee smiled warmly at her and asked, “Miss Sinclair, do you have anything you’d like to say?” She held Austin’s arm and spoke with a voice as soft as velvet. “I’m so grateful. Grateful that I could bring him back to who he truly is. And even more grateful that I’ve always been the one by his side.” Her words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. I reached for my wrist, absentmindedly tugging at the bracelet Connor had made for me. It was a simple thing—braided string with a strand of his hair tied into it. But now, Austin’s hand wore nothing but a gleaming silver ring, impossibly bright under the chandelier lights. I let out a quiet sigh. I guess I’m grateful too. Grateful that during the darkest years of my life, I had Connor by my side. He was like a fleeting dream, comforting me when I needed it most before fading away. I just wish that dream had lasted a little longer. I wanted to leave, but Elliot stopped me. “Aren’t you going to congratulate him?” he asked with a smirk. Reluctantly, I followed him to where Austin and his fiancée were standing. Austin glanced at me, his expression unreadable, before his lips curled into a mocking smile. “So, this is your type now, big brother? Used goods?” The words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cruel. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe. Next to him, Miss Sinclair laughed softly, resting her hand on his arm. “Don’t be so mean,” she teased. “After all, she did take care of you for three years.” Austin’s expression didn’t change. He let out a dismissive “Oh,” then reached for a pen and asked someone nearby for a checkbook. He scribbled something down, tore out the check, and handed it to me. “Write whatever amount you want,” he said, his tone cold and detached.
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