The girl they threw away

Chapter2

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long, sharp, cage-like shadows across the room. Mrs. Hoon's eyes snapped open, her heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs.

"Mrs. Hoon, are you alright?" the nurse, Loveth, asked, stepping quickly to the bedside with a look of practiced concern.

Mrs. Hoon ignored the question, pulling herself upright with a sharp, ragged gasp. The IV needle still pierced the back of her hand, but she didn't seem to notice the sting. The memories of the previous night — the empty room, the cold silence, the crushing weight of her own choices — rushed back, suffocating her.

"Where is my husband? I need to see him," she demanded, her voice brittle and desperate.

Loveth looked down, her expression masked in a sorrow that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sorry, Madam. He left the house early to... attend to urgent matters regarding the company."

"What matters? Tell me exactly what happened!" Mrs. Hoon grabbed the nurse's arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Madam, you must rest. You are still in a fragile state; the trauma has taken a toll on your heart," Loveth urged, gently trying to press her back against the pillows.

Mrs. Hoon swiped the nurse's hand away with startling violence. "Do not patronize me, Loveth! I am not a fool. Where is my daughter? I know you were here when she left. I know you saw something."

Loveth froze, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face. She knew better than anyone the lengths Mrs. Hoon had gone to push Liu out of the house, the cold insults she had heaped upon her, and the way she had systematically alienated her. To see her now, playing the part of the distraught, protective mother, felt like a sickening, high-stakes performance. What a twofaced woman, Loveth thought, struggling to maintain her professional mask.

"Madam, please," Loveth said, her voice strained. "Agitation will only damage your recovery. You must remain calm."

"If you want me calm, give me my daughter!" Mrs. Hoon's grip on the nurse's uniform tightened, her eyes wild with something close to desperation. "I know you know something. Talk, right now, or I will make your life a living nightmare."

"I cannot, Madam."

Mrs. Hoon's hand moved toward the medical tray. Loveth's breath caught — she recognized exactly what her patient was reaching for, and understood in that instant just how far this woman was willing to go for an answer.

"Don't move," Mrs. Hoon said, her voice low and shaking. "One more step, and you'll regret it. If I cannot have answers, I will not sit here quietly." "Madam — please. This isn't the way."

"I don't care about the consequences anymore. Tell me."

Loveth stared at her, genuinely frightened now — this wasn't performance. Whatever composure Mrs. Hoon had left was gone. "I don't know anything, I swear to God!"

"One," Mrs. Hoon said. "Two."

"Please—"

"Three."

Loveth cracked. The fear of what might happen next outweighed every instruction she'd been given. "Liu is dead!" she screamed.

The room went utterly still. Mrs. Hoon's hand dropped, the tray clattering as whatever she'd been holding fell from her grip, forgotten. Suddenly, a breaking news alert pinged from the television in the corner, cutting through the silence like a gunshot.

Breaking News: The heir and eldest daughter of the Hoon family has been confirmed dead in a horrific airplane crash. Sources indicate she was attempting to flee the country following allegations of widespread drug trafficking and corporate embezzlement.

Mrs. Hoon's mouth fell open, her face turning a sickly shade of gray. "Drugs?" she whispered, her eyes darting to the screen where a grainy photo of her daughter was being displayed alongside reports of a fiery wreckage.

The news anchor continued, his tone devoid of empathy: "Coworkers have also testified to her involvement in massive, systematic embezzlement. We are awaiting a statement from the Hoon family regarding these devastating charges."

"What happened?" Mrs. Hoon turned back to Loveth, her voice hollow, stripped of all theatrics.

"It's confirmed, Madam," Loveth said, her voice cold and detached. "A plane crash. She's dead. There were no survivors."

"And she... she was involved in drugs?"

"Yes, boss. That is what the authorities are reporting."

Mrs. Hoon's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, her body hitting the bed with a dull, heavy thud. Loveth didn't rush to help or reach for the oxygen mask. Instead, she stood still, pulled out her phone, and dialed a hidden number. "It's done," she whispered into the receiver. "She knows."

But Loveth had miscalculated. Mrs. Hoon wasn't truly unconscious. She was feigning the collapse, her mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. She already knew her daughter Sophia had been working for a powerful, shadowy figure, and she had effectively discarded Liu to save her from the grasp of that same person — or so she had told herself. But that wasn't the real reason.

Lying there in the dark, with her eyes closed, Mrs. Hoon realized the true nature of the trap. She had done it to hide a deep, festering secret she had been guarding with her life for decades — a secret that, if revealed, would burn the Hoon legacy to the ground. She realized now that the drug allegations were merely the bait, and she was the one caught in the hook. She would need to be stronger than she ever had been before; she would have to play the ghost of herself if she hope

d to survive the coming storm.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

In another country, a woman was just alighting from the plane. I made my way to the boarding area to get registered, and there was a long queue.

That's the thing that feels like eternity whenever I have to stand in a queue like this — such a time-wasting activity. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, it was finally my turn.

"Good day, young miss," the cashier greeted.

"Good day," I said, bowing slightly. The cashier was shocked and kept staring at me.

"Young miss, are you by any chance a celebrity?"

"A celebrity? No, why do you ask?" "No reason — you just look like a celebrity." "I often hear that," I said, smiling at her.

"Wow. Then you should really become a model — I'm sure you'll be famous within a week with your looks." "Really? Thank you so much, you're so kind." "Oh, is that a compliment? I'll happily receive it."

Should I ask her? I thought. No, I shouldn't. Then who should I ask?

"Excuse me, miss," I said, stopping a beautiful woman passing by. "Can I ask you something?" "Yes, how may I help you?"

"Is there any way I can find a house to rent?"

The woman looked shocked — this was clearly the first time she'd been asked something like that. "Oh, I'm sorry, that must be a strange question, right?" I said. She nodded in reply.

"I'm sorry — I know it looks odd. I just got here and I'm trying to settle down, so I need it urgently. This is my first time coming here."

"Hmm, that will be difficult to find. But why don't you sleep at a hotel tonight? By tomorrow you'll have settled in and might be able to find a house — but be ready for a high price if you want to live near the city." "Okay, thank you so much."

"If you'd like, I can call a cab for you, since you're new here."

"Yes, I would really appreciate that."

"Okay, you can sit over there — it'll be here in a moment."

The woman walked toward the cashier, and the two of them talked quietly.

I sat down, and the news on the TV caught my attention. There had been a plane crash.

Wow, that was close, I thought, watching footage of the plane sinking into the sea. I hope not many people died, I said to myself. But something else caught my attention.

Breaking news: prominent heiress Liu Hoon confirmed among the passengers of the crashed flight. Sources report she was fleeing the country amid allegations of drug trafficking and corporate embezzlement.

I froze. My own face stared back at me from the screen — a photo from last year's shareholder meeting, my name spelled out beneath it in bold red letters: CONFIRMED DEAD.

For a moment I couldn't breathe. I was watching my own funeral on a stranger's television, in a country where nobody knew my face except as a headline.

Then, slowly, something colder than grief settled in.

They think I'm dead.

I looked down at my hands, still shaking from the crash landing I'd somehow walked away from, and felt the shape of an idea take hold — small, sharp, and impossible to put back

down.

Good. Let them.