Chapter 14
841 Words
But suddenly—
her phone screen lit up.
A bank SMS had arrived.
Wendy Lincoln was almost illiterate, but she could roughly understand the message—
something about changes…
about interest no longer being valid.
She was shocked.
Could this be a scam message?
She read it again and again, making sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
Then she went into the bedroom and took out the bank card and passbook she had hidden under the blanket—
the account she had opened using Jason Lincoln’s ID.
There shouldn’t be any problem.
But a sense of unease lingered.
She gave up on showering, grabbed the card and passbook, and rushed out.
She had to confirm it.
The money in that account was her entire life savings—even stored as a fixed deposit.
If the interest was gone, wouldn’t all those years have been wasted?
She quickened her pace and headed straight for the ATM across from her breakfast stall.
At school.
“Dad, it’s actually a good thing he blocked you.”
“If you want to celebrate, after evening study I’ll buy you some grilled skewers,” Anna said casually.
She didn’t see the blocking as something bad—
quite the opposite.
“Anna Nolan, how can you say that?” Mr. Nolan scolded.
“I pay for your education, not for you to behave like this—”
“Dad,” Anna interrupted,
“didn’t Jason Lincoln refuse the dinner Aunt Wendy asked you to deliver?”
Mr. Nolan fell silent.
Anna almost laughed.
“You didn’t eat anything, did you? You rushed straight here on your motorcycle, right?”
“Anna…”
“Dad, how should I explain this to you?”
“You said you needed time—fine, I gave you time.”
“But is this how you repay me?”
Mr. Nolan was silent again.
Anna said irritably,
“Have you forgotten what the doctor told you after your surgery two years ago?”
“You must eat regularly. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“I applied for permission to commute from home for your sake.”
“I cooked so much food—and you didn’t even eat it.”
“It’s already bad enough giving it to someone who doesn’t deserve it, and you still delivered dinner to Jason Lincoln?”
“Dad, he’s not a child.”
“Don’t do everything Aunt Wendy tells you.”
“You’re the head of the family—you should have your own principles.”
“If Jason Lincoln is hungry, he can buy his own food.”
“But if your stomach condition flares up again, who will suffer?”
Anna suddenly remembered her previous life.
To support Jason Lincoln’s business, she had drunk until her stomach bled and was hospitalized for half a month.
Aside from her father, who brought her porridge every day—
Jason Lincoln and his mother only called her once a day, for less than five minutes.
As if it were just a duty.
Her father had been heartbroken but never showed it in front of her.
He cried alone in a corner—
until his own stomach illness relapsed.
Their excuse?
Jason Lincoln “couldn’t leave work.”
Even his mother said that precisely because Anna was sick, Jason must not develop stomach problems too.
Back then, Anna had never thought about it—
Wendy Lincoln was too lazy to cook.
They either ordered food or ate what her father made.
Did they really need someone to monitor their meals?
From the very beginning—
that mother and son had always lived being served.
If they were in a bad mood, others had to give in and comfort them.
Why?
She had already died once.
Why should she continue allowing herself to be trampled by them?
“Dad, if you keep doing things like this…”
“I’ll block you too.”
“I want to know—in your heart, who is more important?”
“Them… or me, your daughter?”
Click.
Anna hung up.
She didn’t actually want to be this harsh with her father.
But if she wasn’t firm—
that mother and son would only become more excessive.
She would rather be seen as unreasonable—even harsh—
as long as her father could wake up and see clearly who Wendy Lincoln truly was.
The call ended.
Mr. Nolan looked at the school building, then at the dinner he had carefully kept warm inside his jacket.
His eyes reddened.
“The child has grown… has her own thoughts now.”
“The parent has grown old… no longer liked,” he murmured softly.
He started his motorcycle to head home.
Just as he turned around—
his phone rang.
Seeing Wendy Lincoln’s name on the screen, Mr. Nolan frowned.
Before he could even decide what to say, a panicked, crying voice came through:
“Daniel! Hurry to the ATM across from the stall!”
“My money has been stolen!”
Mr. Nolan: !!!
- Writer
