Inside my head, a high-pitched ringing persisted—like an electric current frying my nerves. A constant reminder.
*I don't have much time left.*
The doctor was right. Without the expensive imported medication provided by Joshua's "Charity Grace Foundation," my lupus would ravage my internal organs within weeks. Combined with the sudden deafness, I was a porcelain doll teetering on a ledge.
I pulled out my phone. A notification from the hospital flashed across the screen.
**[Ms. Delgado, the payment for your next course of treatment has failed. The Sawyer Foundation has suspended funding.]**
Suspended.
In his eyes, my life wasn't even worth the price of the designer handbags Isabella casually demanded.
I didn't reply to the message.
Instead, I walked to the vanity mirror and stared at the woman reflected there.
Pale skin. Hollow eyes. A spirit ground to dust.
*Faith Delgado, you really are pathetic.*
For a man who doesn't love you, you've turned yourself into a ghost.
The door burst open.
Joshua stormed in, the flush on his face betraying the scotch before I could catch a whiff of it. His expression was a volatile cocktail—probing suspicion laced with a flicker of panic he couldn't quite hide.