I Ran Into My Ex-Husband on a Survival Live Stream

Chapter 3

Night fell on the island, and a violent downpour exploded out of nowhere, drumming hard against the tree canopy above me.

My flimsy tarp was useless against the lashing rain, water seeping through every gap to soak me to the bone.

My calf, banged up earlier that afternoon, was submerged in muddy puddle water. The throbbing was so sharp I could barely feel the limb anymore.

To make matters a hundred times worse, my stomach problem flared up without warning.

I curled into a tight ball under the tree, pressing my fist so hard into my abdomen my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat mixed with rainwater dripped off my chin in steady, stinging drops.

A short distance away, Fanny's team was holed up in a sturdy windproof tent, huddled around hot food and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.

The director assigned to follow my shoot couldn't bear to watch any longer. He called the medical team over for me without asking.

The doctor took one look at my state and told me I needed to pause the competition temporarily to get a full checkup.

I cut him off before he could finish speaking, voice tight with urgency. "If I pause now, do I still get a shot at the 1 billion grand prize?"

When they told me no, I only let them patch me up with basic first aid. There was no way I was quitting voluntarily, not when I was this close.

I asked the director if I could trade my points for hot food and warm supplies, but he told me I was six points short of the minimum required.

"Can you deduct the cost from the twenty thousand dollars I already won earlier?" I tried again, desperation edging into my tone.

The director shook his head, face tight with awkwardness. "Cash prizes can't be exchanged for points, I'm sorry. It would be unfair to the other contestants if we bent the rules for you."

Fanny sauntered over just then, a fake sympathetic look plastered on her face.

"Ms. Sullivan, I get how hard this is for you, really. But Mr. Harrington is right here on set. If we change the rules last minute for you, viewers are going to say the show is playing favorites just because you're the investor's ex-wife."

Troy had already nodded at a staff member to bring me the supplies I needed, but when he heard her words, he froze mid-gesture.

In the end, he only had someone hand him the medical team's official recommendation note.

"Sophie, the doctor says you need to withdraw. Why are you pushing yourself this hard?"

I stared up at him, and out of nowhere, a memory of another stormy night five years ago slammed into me.

Troy had been burning up with a terrible fever back then. I'd trudged miles through pouring rain just to get him fever reducers and a warm bowl of rice porridge.

He'd held me tight that night, my clothes soaking wet through, and promised he would never let me suffer again for as long as we lived. And now? I was in so much pain I could barely stand up straight, and he thought I was just throwing a petty tantrum to get attention.

I lifted my chin, voice shaking with equal parts pain and rage. "Troy, do you honestly think if I just admit I got that one billion dollars five years ago, my stomach will magically stop hurting?"

His face darkened instantly. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, yeah? Then what did you mean? My hands are covered in cuts, I can't even afford a hot meal, and you still think I'm putting on some stupid act!"

He went quiet for a long, heavy moment.

"Sophie, even if you're having a hard time right now, that doesn't prove the one billion dollars wasn't transferred to you five years ago."

Tears burned my eyes before I could stop them, spilling down my cheeks and mixing with the rain still pouring over my face.

All the pain I'd endured all these years meant nothing next to a single piece of paper he held in his hand.

In the early hours of the morning, I borrowed the production team's emergency phone to call the hospital.

The nurse on the line told me Noah's heart strain had gotten worse lately, and I needed to get the surgery funds ready as soon as possible.

Right after the call, a new payment reminder popped up in my messages.

I went through the list of bills one by one, my throat tight.

Three hundred, eight hundred, one thousand five hundred. Every single entry was money I'd scraped together over the years, every cent poured straight into my son's medical costs.

The follow camera accidentally panned over my phone screen, and the live chat blew up instantly.

A: [All these tiny payments? How on earth has she been getting by all these years.]

B: [If she really had a billion, would she be scrounging up a few hundred bucks at a time to pay medical bills?]

C: [She could've just blown through all the cash, for all we know. These bills don't prove she never got the money.]

I lunged to slap my hand over the section of the screen showing my son's details.

"Stop filming, please. I'm begging you, don't release my son's personal information to the public."

When Troy caught sight of those payment records, his certainty crumbled, plain to see. He immediately ordered his assistant to re-verify all the procedures related to the one billion dollar transfer.

Not long after, Minerva called him unprompted and sent over a stamped payment confirmation document.

"Troy, Sophie did sign the divorce agreement waiving her right to marital property back then, but all the paperwork for the one billion dollar transfer is complete and above board. I thought it was weird too when she vanished out of nowhere right after. But you can't just assume she never received the money just because she's living in poverty now."

Troy stared at the document for a long moment, and finally let the matter drop, no further questions asked.

Right then, another call came in from the hospital.

"Ms. Sullivan, your son had another cardiac episode tonight, with new signs of heart dysfunction. We have to adjust his treatment plan as soon as possible. Please get ready to return to the hospital earlier than scheduled."

I clutched the phone, staring out at the roiling sea, every muscle in my body trembling so hard I could barely stand.

I still hadn't scraped together the 800,000 dollars for his operation.

But my little Noah might not have time to wait that long.