Mike Carter froze at the mention of a hospital. His heart skipped a beat, unease creeping in. His mother, Mary Carter, had no other sources of income. She worked tirelessly at a small teahouse, barely making ends meet. Their home was a run-down apartment, and most relatives avoided them, refusing to lend even a penny.
Could she have sold blood to get the money? Mike wondered, his stomach twisting with worry.
Without a second thought, he ended the call with Zoe and rushed back to campus.
As he approached, he saw his mother, Mary, standing near the school gate. Behind her was Zoe Han, her expression as sharp and cold as ever.
Mary, with her usual dignity, was apologizing to Zoe. "Zoe, please don't hold a grudge against Mike. He didn't mean any harm. Maybe he saw how I've been wearing the same old clothes for years and wanted to buy me something nice."
Mary's voice was soft but earnest. She hesitated before pulling out a few bills from her pocket. "Here, I'll give you an extra $30 to make up for the trouble. Please, just don't mention this to anyone else."
Zoe took the money, though her face remained indifferent. "Just keep an eye on your son. He's such a nuisance." With that, she turned to leave.
At that moment, Mike arrived.
"I didn't steal any money!" Mike's voice rang out, clear and resolute, breaking through the tense atmosphere.
Zoe turned around, her lips curling into a sneer. "Still denying it? You took the money, didn't you? Own up to it, pay it back, and this whole thing can be over!"
Her voice carried through the area, drawing the attention of nearby students. A small crowd began to gather, whispering among themselves.
Mary's face turned pale. She tugged at Mike's arm, whispering, "Say less, Mike. Let's go home, and we'll sort this out later."
But Mike shook his head firmly. "Mom, I didn't steal anything. Please trust me."
He stepped closer to Zoe, meeting her gaze head-on. "You're accusing me of theft. Do you have any proof?"
Zoe scoffed, crossing her arms. "Proof? Do I really need proof? Look at your situation—you're dirt poor! Everyone knows it."
The murmurs around them grew louder. Students began to recall stories about Mike's struggles, from his worn-out shoes to his part-time jobs.
Zoe smirked, emboldened by the crowd's attention. "Mike, I was willing to let it slide out of pity for your mom. But since you're so stubborn, let's take this to the dean's office." She raised her voice, her words laced with mockery. "Honestly, you're shameless. Your mom works so hard to raise you, and you spend your time throwing money at live-streamers?"
The mention of live-streaming struck a chord with the onlookers.
"Isn't he the guy who wasted all his money on Jessica Lee's stream?" someone whispered.
"Yeah, that's him! The ultimate simp!" another added.
Mike's ears burned, but it wasn't their words that hurt—it was the thought of his mother hearing such things. He clenched his fists, his mind set. I won't let her be humiliated like this.
Stepping forward, he confronted Zoe directly. "There's no need to go to the dean's office. Let's settle this right here. How much money do you claim I stole?"
Zoe raised her chin defiantly. "$300! And don't act like you can pay it back."
Mike's voice was steady. "So you're saying I stole $300 to buy clothes for my mom?"
"Obviously!" Zoe retorted. "Everyone knows how broke you are. Look at her outfit—it must've cost hundreds. There's no way you could afford that."
The crowd murmured in agreement. Mary's outfit, simple but undeniably elegant, stood out against her usual attire.
Mike scanned the faces around him. Not a single person stepped forward to defend him. His classmates, his peers—they all watched silently, judging him.
Finally, Mike spoke. "If the clothes my mom is wearing cost more than $300, and I paid for them legitimately, will you admit I didn't steal your money?"
Zoe hesitated, the confidence in her expression faltering for a moment. "What are you trying to say?"
Mary tugged at Mike's sleeve. "Mike, let it go. It's not worth the trouble."
But Mike wouldn't back down. Not this time.
He locked eyes with Zoe. "Answer me. If these clothes are worth more than $300, will you admit you're wrong?"
Zoe snorted. "Fine. If you can prove it, I'll return your $300 and even apologize. But we both know you're bluffing."
Mike reached into his bag and pulled out a neatly folded receipt. He handed it to Zoe with a smirk. "Take a look for yourself."
Zoe unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning the details. Her face turned pale.
The receipt was from Chanel's flagship store, detailing a purchase of a Spring 2017 collection dress priced at $5,000. It bore the official Chanel seal, confirming its authenticity.
Zoe's hands trembled as she clutched the receipt. She glanced at Mary's outfit, then at her own. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
The murmurs around them grew louder.
"Did he really spend $5,000 on a dress for his mom?"
"Where did he get that kind of money?"
Zoe's confidence crumbled. She stammered, "I… I must've made a mistake."
Mike didn't let up. "A mistake? You accused me of theft, humiliated my mom, and now it's just a mistake?"
Zoe's eyes filled with tears. She shoved the $300 into Mike's hands and muttered, "Here. Take it. I'm sorry, okay?"
Mike stepped closer, his tone icy. "You're forgetting something."
Zoe's face flushed. In front of everyone, she raised her hand and slapped herself across the cheek. The sound echoed through the crowd. Without another word, she turned and ran, disappearing into the parking lot.
Far away from the commotion, Zoe climbed into a BMW, tears streaming down her face. "Jason, I was humiliated today," she sobbed. "You have to get back at him for me."
Back at the school gate, the crowd began to disperse. Mary looked at Mike with concern.
"Mike…" she began, her voice heavy with emotion.
Mike met her gaze. "Mom, I didn't steal anything. You have to believe me."
Mary sighed, her expression softening. "If you didn't steal it, then tell me—where did you get the money?"
Mike hesitated. He couldn't reveal the truth about his inheritance. Mr. Howard had made it clear that the family's involvement had to remain a secret.
"Don't worry about it, Mom," he said with a sheepish grin. "I'll take care of you from now on. Just trust me."
Mary shook her head. "Fine. But how did you know I went to the hospital?"
Mike's heart ached at the thought. "You shouldn't have gone to sell blood, Mom. It's too much for you."
Mary waved him off. "I didn't sell blood. One of your classmates lent me $300 when she saw me at the hospital. A kind girl—tall, pretty, and dressed in sporty clothes. She said she's your friend."
Mike blinked in surprise. "A classmate? Who?"
Mary smiled knowingly. "You must be keeping secrets from me, Mike. That girl's a gem. You're lucky to have her."