5 Years I Paid For His Medical Degree. When He Graduated, He Paid Me Back With A Divorce… But I Left Him A Final Parting Gift Neither He Or His Mom Expect

 

That morning, the sun poured through the tall windows of the Morehouse School of Medicine, scattering light across rows of proud families. The air was electric with joy—fathers clasped their sons’ shoulders, mothers cried openly, and graduates smiled through tears. Among them sat Alice Normans, her fingers trembling as she clutched a small bouquet of white lilies. Her husband, Leon Sterling, stood tall on stage, dressed in his cap and gown, receiving the medical degree he had spent five long years earning. Five years that had demanded every ounce of their patience, faith, and sacrifice.

For everyone else, it was a day of triumph. For Alice, it was the finish line of an endless marathon—one she had run barefoot.

She smiled as she watched him shake the dean’s hand, her chest tight with pride and exhaustion. The applause thundered around her, and still, her mind kept replaying those five brutal years. The 4 a.m. shifts at the bakery. The endless weekends typing financial reports for a law firm that never once offered her overtime pay. The nights she sat awake beside Leon while he studied until dawn, rubbing his shoulders when the stress made his muscles lock up.

Her hands, now resting on her lap, were rough and cracked—hands that had worked, not for luxury, not for herself, but for a dream that wasn’t even her own. She had sold her great-grandmother’s jewelry, pawned her engagement ring twice, and gone without new clothes for years. Every cent, every bit of energy, had gone toward paying Leon’s tuition, rent, food, and medical textbooks that cost more than her monthly paycheck.

And yet, as she looked at him standing on that stage, her heart swelled. She had done it. They had done it.

Beside her, Leon’s mother, Nancy Sterling, dabbed delicately at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Her voice carried loud enough for nearby guests to hear. “My Leon,” she said proudly, “finally a doctor. I always knew he’d be great.” She leaned toward a woman beside her and whispered, “He’s been exceptional since he was a boy. Always destined for more.”

Alice caught the glance Nancy threw her way—a sideways look, lined with disdain. She was used to it. From the first day Alice had stepped into their lives, Nancy had made no effort to hide her opinion. She saw Alice as plain, unrefined, and worst of all—ordinary. Not a suitable match for her precious son, the rising star of the Sterling family.

But Alice had never cared what Nancy thought. She had believed that love was enough. That Leon’s heart, once so tender and ambitious, could make all the sacrifices worthwhile.

When the ceremony ended, the graduates threw their caps into the air, laughter filling the hall. Leon turned, his face radiant, but when his eyes met Alice’s, something about his smile didn’t feel like joy—it felt like pride, the kind that looked past her rather than at her. He hugged his mother first, holding her tightly. “I did it, Mom,” he said, his voice bright and confident.

“Of course you did,” Nancy said, her voice full of triumph. “You were born to do great things.”

Alice stepped forward, her heart full. “Congratulations, darling,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him.

Leon hugged her back with a stiffness she couldn’t ignore. “Yeah. Thanks.” Then, without meeting her eyes, he said, “Dinner tonight. That new restaurant downtown. I made a reservation.”

Alice smiled through the sting. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

That night, they sat high above the Atlanta skyline in a glittering restaurant where the silverware gleamed brighter than the city lights. The kind of place Alice had never imagined stepping into. She felt small under the weight of it all—the linen tablecloths, the low hum of jazz, the perfume of wealthy women who didn’t need to check prices before ordering. Leon looked perfectly at home.

He wore an expensive designer shirt she didn’t recognize, probably a gift from his mother. His confidence filled the room, a quiet arrogance that hadn’t been there before. Across the table, Nancy Sterling scrolled through her phone, posting photos of her son with captions dripping in pride.

Alice reached for Leon’s hand. “Honey, all our effort is finally over,” she said gently. “Now we can start our new life.”

Nancy laughed lightly, her manicured fingers resting on her wine glass. “Leon’s effort, you mean. My son has worked himself to the bone for this. He’s a doctor now—his life is going to be extraordinary. He deserves the best.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Alice tried to smile. She waited for Leon to defend her, to say we did it together. But he didn’t. He kept his eyes on the menu, as if the conversation didn’t involve him at all.

Dinner arrived, each dish more extravagant than the last. Alice barely tasted any of it. Her stomach had twisted into a knot that wouldn’t unwind.

After a long, uneasy silence, Leon set down his fork and cleared his throat. His gaze was flat, unreadable. “Alice,” he said quietly, “I have to tell you something.”

Her heart skipped. “What is it, sweetheart?”

He reached into his leather briefcase—a new one, sleek and expensive—and pulled out a thick brown envelope. He set it in front of her without a word.

Alice blinked, confused. “What’s this?”

Nancy leaned back in her chair, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. Alice felt a flicker of dread.

Leon gestured at the envelope. “Open it.”

Her fingers shook as she pulled out the papers inside. At first, her eyes couldn’t process what she was reading. Her mind went blank, the words swimming together until one phrase cut through everything: Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The laughter from nearby tables, the music, the clinking of glasses—all of it faded into a single, suffocating silence.

“Leon…” Her voice cracked. “This has to be some kind of mistake. A joke, right? It’s your graduation day.”

Leon’s expression didn’t change. He sighed, like a man burdened with a necessary truth. “It’s not a joke, Alice. I’m serious. We can’t be together anymore.”

Her hands tightened on the papers. “Why? What did I do wrong? I’ve been with you through everything—for five years I—”

“Exactly,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “Five years. And it’s enough. I’m a doctor now, Alice. I have a future. I need a partner who fits that future—someone who belongs in the same world as me. You…” He paused, his gaze drifting over her simple dress, her tired face. “You don’t.”

The words hit her like a physical blow.

“I’m ashamed,” he said coldly. “Ashamed to have such an ordinary wife.”

Across the table, Nancy’s smirk widened. “You heard him, dear. Leon has standards now. You should’ve known this wasn’t going to last. It’s better to end things before you embarrass him any further.” She lifted her glass, her tone dripping with false sympathy. “Consider the money you spent as a donation. A good deed. You helped build his future.”

The words charitable donation echoed in Alice’s head, each one burning deeper than the last.

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she thought she might scream. The pain pressed against her ribs, begging to break free. The betrayal, the humiliation—all of it fused together until her vision blurred.

She looked at Leon, searching his face for some trace of the man she’d once loved, the man who had held her in their tiny apartment when they had nothing but hope. But all she saw now was distance. Arrogance. The faintest flicker of pity.

Something inside her cracked. The tears she’d been fighting spilled freely down her cheeks. But then, as she looked at them—Leon and his mother, sitting there so smug, so certain of their superiority—something shifted. The sob in her throat turned to silence. The tremor in her hands steadied.

It was as if the world had gone quiet, and in that quiet, a new kind of strength took its place.

She reached for the papers, folded them slowly, and looked up. Her eyes were no longer wet. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was calm—eerily calm.

And the way Leon and his mother straightened in their seats told her they both felt the chill that had just entered the room.

Because they had mistaken her kindness for weakness.

And that was the last mistake they would ever make.

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 Picture this. For five long years, this wife worked relentlessly to pay for her husband’s entire medical school education until he graduated. But what did she get on graduation day? Instead of a thank you, she received divorce papers. Her husband told her arrogantly. We are no longer on the same level, “I am ashamed to have such an ordinary wife.

” After the divorce, the wife vanished without a trace. However, one year later, her ex-husband, now a doctor, panicked and searched for her desperately. What had happened to him?

 That morning, thunderous applause echoed through the grand auditorium of the Morehouse School of Medicine. Among the joyful families, Alice Normans sat with overwhelming emotion. She subtly dabbed at the corners of her moist eyes to keep the tears from falling. She looked toward the stage. There, her husband, Leon Sterling, stood tall, dressed in his cap and gown, holding the medical degree he had just received from the dean. 5 years.

 5 years of waiting, sacrifice, and unimaginable hardship had finally paid off. Alice smiled. It was a genuine smile, one that felt a little stiff from the years of fatigue. She looked down at her own slightly rough hands, hands that hadn’t known the luxury of a manicure in the last 5 years. These hands had been busy kneading dough to bake pastries for local coffee shops before dawn and typing up reports late at night at the office.

 They were the same hands that massaged Leon’s back when he complained of exhaustion after long nights studying. Alice had taken on two jobs. She had sold her great grandma’s inherited jewelry and suppressed all her own desires, all for one single dream to see Leon in a white coat. Beside her, Leon’s mother, her mother-in-law, Nancy Sterling, wore the proudest expression.

 “My Leon is finally a great doctor,” Mrs. Sterling exclaimed to a guest sitting next to her, soaking up the congratulations. Mrs. Sterling looked elegant in a designer suit and an impeccably swept up haido. She glanced sideways at Alice, who wore a simple dress. For a long time, Mrs. Sterling hadn’t hidden her dislike for Alice, who came from a humble background, and in her opinion, wasn’t up to the standard of her brilliant Leon. But Alice didn’t care. Leon’s love was enough for her.

The graduation ceremony ended. Leon approached them with a broad smile, but that smile was directed mainly at Mrs. Sterling. He embraced his mother tightly. “I did it, Mom,” he said. “Of course, son. Mama always knew you were exceptional,” Mrs. Sterling replied, patting his back. Alice stepped closer to hug her husband.

 “Congratulations, darling.” Leon accepted Alice’s embrace with a certain stiffness. He quickly let go of her. Yeah, thanks. We’re having dinner tonight at that new high-end spot that just opened. I made a reservation. Let’s celebrate, Leon said, but his eyes didn’t meet Alice’s. Alice’s heart felt a little hurt by the coldness, but she tried to understand.

 Perhaps Leon was tired or just overwhelmed with emotion. “Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want,” Alice replied softly. That night, the three sat in an upscale restaurant overlooking the dazzling Atlanta night skyline. Alice felt a bit out of place. It was the most expensive venue she had ever been to.

 She saw Leon, who had changed into an expensive looking designer shirt, sitting with overwhelming confidence. Mrs. Sterling couldn’t stop taking pictures of Leon to post on her social media. “Honey, all our effort is finally over. Now we can start a new life,” Alice said, trying to initiate a warm conversation. Hearing that, Mrs. Sterling snickered.

“Leon’s effort, you mean Alice. My son is a hard worker. He’s a doctor now. Of course, his life will be new. He deserves the best.” Alice fell silent at the sarcastic comment. She waited for her husband to defend her, to say it had been a joint effort, but Leon said nothing, busy examining the menu.

 After ordering the food, there was a brief silence. Leon cleared his throat and looked at Alice. This time his gaze was difficult to interpret. Cold, expressionless, with something strange about it. Alice, I have to tell you something, Leon said. Yes, sweetheart. Alice replied, looking at him expectantly. Leon reached into his new leather briefcase and pulled out a thick brown envelope, placing it on the table right in front of Alice. Alice frowned.

 “What is this, honey? A job offer from the hospital?” Mrs. Sterling, sitting next to Leon, smiled smugly. That smile gave Alice a sudden bad premonition. Leon slightly shook his head. “No, open it.” Alice’s hands trembled a little as she took the envelope. She slowly opened it. Her eyes read the first lines of an official document.

 Her heart seemed to stop. The luxurious restaurant seemed to stop spinning. The clinking of cutlery from other tables seemed to vanish. There, clearly written, was petition for dissolution of marriage. Alice looked up and stared at Leon in confusion. Her lips trembled.

 “Leon, this this is a joke, right? What kind of joke is this? Today is your graduation.” Leon sighed deeply. His face hardened. It was as if the mask of happiness he had worn all day had fallen off. “I’m serious, Alice. We can’t be together anymore.” “But why? What did I do wrong, honey? For 5 years, I” Alice’s voice broke. Precisely because of that, Leon interrupted sharply.

 5 years have been enough. I’m a doctor now. I have a bright future. I need a partner who is on my level. Someone I can take to important gatherings. Someone who fits my social status. Leon looked Alice up and down, evaluating her simple dress, her tired, makeup-free face. Alice, we are no longer on the same level.

 Leon uttered that sentence so lightly as if Alice’s 5 years of sacrifice meant nothing. I am ashamed to have such an ordinary wife. It was like lightning on a clear day. Alice’s head spun. Those insulting words were spoken by the man for whom she had been the bread winner, the nurse, and the supporter of his dreams. Mrs. Sterling added in a triumphant voice, “Did you hear that, Alice? Leon has other standards now.

 You should have known your place from the beginning. It’s better you two separate now before you become a burden and embarrass him among the medical community. Consider the money you earned as a charitable donation. The tears Alice had been holding back finally burst forth. Not a single drop, but an uncontrollable torrent.

 The pain, the humiliation, and the betrayal shattered her heart. She looked at Leon, searching for some vestage of the man who once loved her, but all she found was an arrogant stranger. She looked at Mrs. Sterling, who was smiling with satisfaction. Alice bit her lip hard to suppress a sob that wanted to escape. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break down in public.

 With violently trembling hands, she crumpled the divorce notification. The word charity that Mrs. Sterling had spat out was like pouring gasoline on the embers of Alice’s heart. Something inside her broke, but it didn’t shatter. The moment it broke, it transformed into cold, sharp steel. The tears instantly ceased. She slowly lifted her head and looked at the two people in front of her.

 Her gaze, once bewildered and full of pain, was now cold, expressionless, and unreadable. She roughly wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. It was no longer the soft gesture of a desperate person, but the firm movement of someone who had made a decision. Leon and Mrs. Sterling were slightly surprised by the sudden change. They expected Alice to cry, beg, or faint.

 But instead, Alice kept a terrifying silence. Enough. That single word came from Alice’s lips. Her voice was hoaro from holding back tears, but it was very loud and emphatic. “Mrs. Sterling, I said enough,” Alice repeated, now looking directly into her mother-in-law’s eyes, who was starting to look bewildered. “You told me to know my place.

 You said my sacrifices were just charity. You said I was a burden.” Alice let out a small, cynical laugh, a laugh more chilling than a hysterical cry. That laugh made Leon uncomfortable. Did you think I would stand by while you trampled and humiliated me like this? Alice turned to Leon, who now looked a little tense and bewildered.

 And you, Mr. Leon, the way she emphasized the mister, sounded like mockery. You say you’ve become a doctor. You say that degree is yours. You are very wrong. Alice slowly rose from her chair. Her movements were calm, but charged with contained fury.

 Her hand, the same one that had just crumpled the divorce papers, now pointed directly at Ken’s face, which was starting to pale. “That degree is mine, too.” Alice’s voice suddenly rose an octave. It startled Ken and Mrs. Sterling, and even caused patrons at the next table to turn and look. Alice didn’t care. Every dollar that led you to that graduation is my sweat,” Alice shouted. Her voice trembled with repressed emotion.

 “Every thick textbook you bought was food I took from my own mouth. Every night you slept comfortably before an exam, I was awake until dawn prepping bakery orders. You jabbed Leon’s chest with her index finger. You only borrowed my body, my energy, and my whole life for the last 5 years to buy that degree. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing ragged as she contained the anger that reached her very soul.

You said I’m not on your level. Alice laughed again, this time louder. You’re right. I’m really not on your level. She alternated her piercing gaze between Leon and Mrs. Sterling. I will never be on the level of a coward who betrays his wife on his graduation day.

 And I will never be on the level of a mother who proudly supports her son’s betrayal just for social status. Alice picked up her simple shoulder bag that was on the chair. And remember this, both of you. Alice emphasized every word. You will regret this. Wounded in his pride as a new doctor and furious at being called out in public, Leon stood up. His face was red with shame and anger. “Alice, sit down.

 Don’t cause a scene. What else do you want? Division of assets? We have nothing. Have you forgotten that all your money went into my tuition?” Leon yelled, trying to intimidate Alice into returning to her submissive ways. But Alice instead smiled. “A smile so cold it sent a chill down Leon’s spine.

” “Did you think I was that stupid, sweetheart?” Alice pulled out her mobile phone. She no longer cared about the stairs of the people around them. Did you think I hadn’t noticed your disgusting behavior for the last 6 months? You started hiding your phone every time I passed by. You started coming home late with the excuse of group projects, even though your clothes smelled like another woman’s perfume.

 A week ago, I gave up buying new clothes for myself to cover your last tuition payment. And suddenly, you had money for a brand new designer watch. Leon gasped. He had no idea Alice had noticed all that. Alice dialed a speed dial number on her phone. Attorney Washington. Hello. I’m sorry to bother you so late. Leon frowned. Attorney Washington.

Who is Attorney Washington? He asked suspiciously. Mrs. Sterling, who had been arrogant moments before, now looked anxious. Her face tightened. Alice completely ignored Leon as if the man wasn’t even there. Yes, it’s Alice. Our suspicions were correct. For a moment, Alice listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

Yes, counselor. I received the notification tonight just as I expected. Exactly the scenario you predicted. Leon’s heart pounded. Suspicions predicted. Please proceed. Alice continued, her voice eerily calm. Immediately process all the documents I left at your office last week.

 Yes, counselor, everything, including the counter claim for betrayal and material fraud, and most importantly, include the full breakdown of the damage claim for the expenses of education and living support for 5 years. Please send the summons to the address of the hospital where he is starting his residency next week as soon as possible. Hearing the word damages, Mrs. Sterling jumped out of her chair. Her face was pale. Counter claim.

 What damages, Alice? Don’t make things up. Are you crazy? You’re trying to blackmail my son? She cried in a panic. Alice finally hung up the phone, slowly putting her mobile back into her bag. She looked at Mrs. Sterling. I’m not crazy, ma’am. I’m just claiming my rights. You just said this was an investment. Well, I want my investment back. All of it.

 I have saved every transfer receipt, every tuition receipt, and even every utility bill I paid for the last 5 years. Alice turned to Leon, who was now paralyzed. His lips were tight. Did you think I would let you walk away freely to find a new life and a new wife on your level with the degree I bought with my blood and tears? You were dead wrong, sweetheart.

 Alice picked up the divorce notification that was on the table in front of Leon and Mrs. Sterling. She didn’t tear it up. Instead, she folded it carefully and put it in her bag. This will be excellent additional evidence in court. Thank you. I will not sign your divorce papers. Alice said firmly. But I will divorce you and I will make you pay for every drop of my sweat before you can proudly wear that white coat.

 Without another word, Alice turned, walked out of that luxurious restaurant with a steady stride, leaving Leon and Mrs. Sterling frozen at the table in front of the expensive food they had ordered and hadn’t even touched. That night, Alice didn’t cry anymore.

 The burning fury had dried all her tears, leaving only steel determination. Alice’s steps as she left the luxurious restaurant were light, but her footprints seemed to burn on the cold marble floor. She didn’t cry. A dense fury had frozen her tears. She walked quickly towards the lobby, ignoring the stairs of the restaurant staff, who watched her strangely, her, who had entered as part of a trio and now left alone with a flushed face.

 She immediately flagged down a passing taxi and gave the address of Grace McLeans’s, her only friend’s studio in the city. During the ride, Alice sat motionless. The city lights, which should have been witnesses to her happy celebration, now seemed like a painful mockery. Ken’s arrogant face and Mrs.

 Sterling’s cunning smile kept appearing before her eyes. We are no longer on the same level. That phrase continued to resonate in her ears like a rusty nail. She gripped the phone in her hand. Attorney Washington’s contact was saved there. She wouldn’t let this humiliation be the end of everything. It would be the beginning.

 Grace opened the door to her modest studio with a sleepy look, but her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Alice at her door. Alice, what are you doing here at this hour? Shouldn’t you be celebrating Leon’s graduation? Alice didn’t answer. She walked in and as soon as the door closed, her legs gave way. She leaned against the wall.

 “He asked me for a divorce, Grace,” Alice said in a quiet horse voice. “What?” Grace jumped up in surprise. “You’re kidding. No way.” “In the restaurant the very night of his graduation,” Alice repeated, and her voice started to tremble again. Grace immediately hugged her friend. In Grace’s arms, Alice’s armor collapsed. But it wasn’t a cry of desperation.

 It was a cry of boiling fury. She told her everything. Mrs. Sterling’s insults, Leon’s arrogance, and the divorce petition. That miserable parasite, Grace cursed, clenching her fists. And that mother-in-law, is she a person or a demon? I told you from the start, Alice, they just used you. I know. Alice pulled away from the hug and dried her tears. I’ve already called a lawyer. Attorney Washington.

 Grace was stunned. A lawyer? Since when? For 6 months. I Alice paused. Since I realized Leon was starting to change. Since I found evidence he was transferring money to another account behind my back. I just needed the final proof. And tonight he gave it to me. A few weeks later, the atmosphere in the mediation room at family court was very cold and tense.

 Alice, dressed in a simple but neat dress, sat upright. Her face was calm and expressionless. Beside her, Attorney Washington, a middle-aged man with a calm but sharp appearance, organized a thick file on the table. Across from them, Leon and Mrs. Sterling sat nervously.

 Ken, who was about to start his residency at a prestigious hospital, looked haggarded. Mrs. Sterling kept whispering in his ear with a pale face. Attorney Washington’s summons, which detailed the counter claim and the damage claim for $500,000, $500,000, had completely ruined their celebration mood. The mediator began the session, but before Leon or his newly hired lawyer could speak, attorney Washington intervened directly. Thank you for your time.

 My client, Miss Alice Normans, is here today to respond to Mr. Leon Sterling’s divorce petition. However, we reject that petition. Leon looked up. What do you mean you reject it? Alice. You? We reject it. Attorney Washington interrupted firmly. Because it will be my client who files the divorce petition, and we have already filed it. Attorney Washington handed a stack of papers to the mediator.

 a divorce petition based on betrayal, material fraud, and psychological abuse. “That’s slander,” Mrs. Sterling shrieked. “Don’t make things up.” Attorney Washington ignored her. “And we are also attaching a claim for damages for all the educational and living expenses my client covered for 5 years to finance Mr. Sterling’s medical studies.” Attorney Washington opened the thick file in front of him.

 Attached here is all the detailed evidence from the bianual tuition transfers, the receipts for book and lab material purchases, the rent payment stubs for their apartment, down to a breakdown of the daily food expenses my client wired to Mr. Sterling’s account. The total amounts to $500,000, $500,000. Cayenne gasped and his face instantly turned pale.

 $500,000 was an astronomical sum. His starting salary as a resident wouldn’t even reach a tenth of that amount in a year. Mrs. Sterling was breathless. The lawyer they had hired could only swallow hard upon seeing the impeccable stack of evidence. This this is blackmail, Leon said in a voice that was a mixture of anger and fear. That that was a wife’s duty.

 Alice, are you crazy? Alice, who had remained silent all this time, finally spoke. She looked directly at Leon. The duty of a wife you said wasn’t on your level. The duty of a wife you were ashamed of. The duty of a wife you abandoned on your graduation day? Alice asked. Her voice was flat but sharp. I’m not crazy, Leon. I’m just collecting what is mine.

 And suffocating silence fell. Leon and Mrs. Sterling knew they couldn’t present any defense against that stack of evidence. It was then that Alice gave attorney Washington a small signal. Attorney Washington nodded. The next words from Attorney Washington put Leon and Mrs. Sterling back on edge.

 My client is a person of great heart. She does not wish to prolong this matter further. Alice looked at Leon. I will withdraw the damage claim of $500,000. $500,000. Leon and Mrs. Sterling opened their mouths, unable to believe what they were hearing. With some conditions, Alice quickly added, “First, you will accept my divorce petition.

 The cause must be clearly recorded. Betrayal and abandonment. I want my honor back. Second, there will be no asset claim. I will not take anything from that house, and you cannot demand anything from me ever. We are at peace.” Third, you both will sign an agreement that you will never again bother me or my family.

 Fourth, all of this closes today with no appeals or postponements. Leon looked at Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling, half terrified at the idea of having to sell her house to pay a debt of $500,000, immediately nodded in panic. Agreed. Agreed. Sign quickly, Leon, she whispered. Pride was nothing compared to such a huge debt. Leon, his hands shaking from a mixture of shame and relief, signed the agreement. The divorce process was very fast.

 The judge’s gavvel fell. Alice was officially free. She left the courthouse without looking back, leaving Leon slumped powerlessly, and Mrs. Sterling crying tears of relief. That afternoon, Alice finished packing her last belongings into an old suitcase in Grace’s studio. She had sold the rest of her jewelry and had gathered enough money to start a new life.

 Alice, that $500,000 was yours. You could have bought a new apartment with that money,” Grace said, still unable to understand. Alice closed the suitcase. “I don’t want it, Grace. If I accept that money, I’ll always be tied to the resentment. It’s dirty money. Money full of humiliation. I consider that I paid $500,000 for a very expensive life lesson, and I don’t want to repeat it. So, where will you go?” Alice smiled.

 It was the first truly sincere smile in weeks. I want to continue with my dream, the one I put on hold. I want to go back to college. I want to write. I still have a brain, Grace. I still have ambition. Alice took Grace by the shoulders. I promise you, I will leave this city. I will disappear from Leon and his mother’s life.

 I will use all my intangible capital, all this pain to build something truly great. Someday they will hear my name again and then they will realize who really wasn’t on whose level. Alice hugged Grace tightly. Take care Grace and don’t tell anyone where I am. Of course, Alice. Chase your dreams. Make them regret it. That night Alice headed to the bus station.

 She deliberately chose a distant small town, a place where no one knew her. As the bus began to pull away from the dazzling city that had caused her so much pain, Alice looked out the window. She didn’t cry. She only felt immense relief. She vanished with one suitcase, a pile of uncollected sacrifices, and a great promise to herself. One year had passed. Time flowed uncompromisingly, changing destinies and turning the wheel of life.

 On the 15th floor of the most prestigious private hospital in Atlanta, a young man walked with a firm and confident stride. His white doctor’s coat was impeccably ironed. An expensive stethoscope hung from his neck, not just as a tool, but as a status symbol. The name badge on his chest clearly read, “Dr. Leon Sterling. He was the new surgical ace.

 intelligent, agile, and despite his young age, already entrusted with several complex operations. His superiors adored him. The young nurses admired him, and his colleagues saw him as a role model. Leon had achieved everything he wanted. His old life with Alice felt like a distant nightmare. He barely remembered his ex-wife’s name.

 If it ever crossed his mind, Leon only considered it a shameful memory, a stepping stone he had to tread to get where he was now. Divorcing Amaro was the best decision of my life. He often told himself in front of the mirror in his luxurious penthouse. Amaro was a burden, a stone in his shoe, a reminder of his mediocre past.

 Now he was free, and he celebrated that freedom with luxury. Ken no longer lived in the small rental apartment he had inherited from his father. He and Mrs. Sterling had moved into a lavish penthouse in the city center where they could enjoy the nightly city views. Of course, the mortgage was choking him, but Leon didn’t care. Status was everything. He also traded his old motorcycle for a brand new black Mercedes Benz C-Class.

 He bought the car with 7-year financing at very high interest. His starting salary at the private hospital was high, but not enough for the lifestyle he wanted to project. Every weekend, Leon spent his nights in high-end restaurants, the kind he had used to humiliate Alice. He bought designer watches, clothes, and joined an exclusive golf club.

Ostensibly, Dr. Leon Sterling was the perfect picture of success. But behind that facade, a pile of credit card bills began to accumulate. He juggled five different credit cards and had applied for several bank loans under the excuse of renovating the penthouse. Kenne’s arrogance had perfectly rubbed off on Mrs. Sterling.

 Her status as a doctor’s mother had elevated her social position to a level she had never imagined. Mrs. Sterling was now a full member of a social circle of executives and high-ranking officials wives. Whenever they met, she spoke of nothing but Leon’s greatness. “Oh, Leon, of course, darling. He keeps having important surgeries.

 He didn’t get home until 3:00 in the morning last night,” she said one afternoon while stirring expensive tea in a luxury hotel lobby. In reality, she knew perfectly well that Leon had arrived at 3:00 in the morning, not because of surgery, but because he had attended a party at an exclusive nightclub. Poor me. But what can you do? It’s the calling of a noble profession. That boy is so dedicated.

 The new penthouse, you say, darling? Mrs. Sterling continued as if answering a question. Oh, well, it’s modest. Three bedrooms with a city view. Ken insisted his mother move in. He said she had to be comfortable in her old age. He’s such a good son. Mrs. Sterling constantly pressured Leon to find a new partner quickly. Leon, you’re a top doctor now.

 Don’t make the wrong choice with your wife again. Look for someone on your level. Professor Evans daughter is beautiful and graduated from an Ivy League school. Or how about Sarah, the daughter of the hospital director next door? Remember, marriage is now a social investment for your career? She lectured Leon almost daily.

 Leon simply nodded, enjoying his new status as the most coveted bachelor. The days passed in a cycle of ostentation and debt. Then one afternoon, while Leon presided over an evaluation meeting with younger doctors, something happened. He was speaking with authority, pointing at the presentation screen when he suddenly felt dizzy.

 His vision blurred for a second, and he had to grab the edge of the table to keep from stumbling. “Dr. Sterling, are you all right?” asked a junior doctor when he saw his superiors face suddenly turn pale. Leon instantly straightened up. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Too many surgeries,” he replied bruskly. “Let’s continue.” He ignored the strange throbbing he felt in his temples. “It must be a common migraine,” he thought to himself.

 “Lack of sleep and too much coffee.” But that common migraine started appearing more frequently. A few days later, while having lunch in the hospital cafeteria, still with his arrogant attitude, criticizing the chef’s food as subpar, his hand, which was holding the spoon, suddenly trembled slightly.

 The tremor only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. “What is this?” he thought to himself. He clenched his fist under the table, trying to control the shaking. He blamed the air conditioning being too cold. That night, in his luxurious penthouse, the symptom manifested itself more strongly.

 He had just taken a hot shower and was preparing to go out to a dinner Mrs. Sterling had organized to introduce him to a woman. He was standing in front of a large mirror, adjusting an expensive tie. Suddenly, the world around him seemed to tilt. His head throbbed intensely, as if thousands of needles were piercing it.

 His vision completely blurred, and a loud ringing echoed in his ears. He staggered backward, hitting the dresser behind him. Expensive perfume bottles fell to the floor. “What? What’s happening?” Leon whispered, clutching his head, which felt like it was about to explode. He collapsed onto the floor. He couldn’t breathe.

 A cold sweat drenched his face and shirt. As a doctor, danger alarm sounded in his head. This was not common fatigue or a migraine, but his enormous ego refused to admit it. He couldn’t be sick. The great Dr. Leon, at the peak of his career, couldn’t be sick. He crawled to the medicine cabinet and pulled out two high-dosese painkillers. He swallowed them without water.

 15 minutes later, the pain slowly subsided. He still felt a residual throbbing, but he looked at the broken mirror on the floor. His face was pale. The phone rang. It was Mrs. Sterling. Ken, where are you? Sarah and her family are waiting. Don’t embarrass your mother. Leon took a deep breath, trying to gather his remaining strength. Yes, Mom. I’m coming. There’s traffic. He lied.

 He stood up. His body was still trembling slightly. He washed his face and fixed his hair again. He looked at the pile of credit card bills and car loan receipts on his desk. Suddenly, all that luxury seemed cold and eerie. Fear began to invade his mind, but he pushed it away. “No, I’m fine,” he muttered. “I just need to rest.

 Then everything will return to normal.” He grabbed his Mercedes keys and left with the mask of success and arrogance back in place. The mask of arrogance that Leon had worn for an entire year finally cracked and shattered. A few days after suffering the severe dizziness in his penthouse, the symptom reappeared in the worst place imaginable at the operating table.

 He was leading a simple apppendecttomy, a procedure he could do with his eyes closed. He had scrubbed in, put on sterile gloves, and was about to ask the scrub nurse for the scalpel. Suddenly, his hand trembled. At first, it was a subtle tremor, but within seconds, it turned into a severe shake. The scalpel he had just received almost slipped from his hands.

“Doctor,” his assistant said cautiously behind his mask. His eyes showed perplexity. Time seemed to stand still in that cold operating room. Kan looked at his own hand, stunned. He couldn’t stop it. Cold sweat. Drops the size of corn kernels began to soak his temples. I I He tried to find an excuse.

 The size of this glove is wrong. Change it, he whispered. But when he tried to remove the glove, the tremor became even more evident. The assistant and nurses exchanged glances. Leon, the star surgeon known for his steady hands, was now shaking like a person freezing cold. “Dr. Sterling, are you sure you’re okay?” the assistant asked again.

 “Now there was concern in his voice.” “I said I’m fine,” Leon snapped, but he knew he couldn’t continue. “Take over,” he ordered his assistant in a strained voice. “I suddenly feel ill, heartburn.” He threw the scalpel onto the instrument tray and hastily left the operating room, leaving a big question mark on his entire team. He ripped off his mask and surgical cap in the hallway and leaned against the wall. He was breathless.

This was no longer fatigue. It wasn’t a migraine. It was something that was going to destroy his career, his pride, his future. Everything depended on the firmness of that hand. And that hand had just betrayed him. He arranged a secret meeting outside working hours. He scheduled an appointment for 9:00 at night, long after consultation hours.

 He swallowed all his pride and went to the office of the chief of neurology, Dr. Avery. Dr. Avery, a calm, brilliant, and dedicated veteran doctor, the type of physician Leon considered old-fashioned and unstylish. Ironically, Leon’s fate was now in Dr. Avery’s hands. “Leon, what’s wrong?” Dr.

 Avery asked calmly, looking at Leon, who entered the room like a thief. Dr. Sterling had left his coat in the car. He had come as an ordinary patient. I’m experiencing strange symptoms. My hands tremble and my vision often blurs. Dr. Avery listened carefully. His face remained calm. He performed a series of basic neurological tests on Leon.

 Lie down there. Follow this light. Close your eyes. Relax. Every command was like a slap to Leon. The great doctor was now an obedient patient. After the physical examination, Dr. Avery looked at him seriously. We need to do an MRI of your brain and spinal cord first thing in the morning.

 Immediately the next day, Leon underwent a series of tests with a mixture of fear and denial. He waited for the results in his office, pacing like a caged lion. Mrs. Sterling called him several times complaining about why Leon wasn’t taking her to dinner at the luxury hotel. “What good is your mother’s life like this if I have a successful doctor son Leon?” “I’m busy, Mom!” Leon shouted and hung up. His phone rang again.

 “This time it was Dr. Avery. The results were ready.” “Leon, can you come to my office now?” Leon’s heart sank. With heavy steps, he went to Dr. Avery’s office. The veteran doctor was already waiting for him. The results of Leon’s MRI were displayed on the large computer screen behind his desk. Dr.

 Avery did not mince words. Leon, sit down. Dr. Avery looked at the screen. Look at this. He pointed to several abnormal white spots on Leon’s spinal cord and optic nerve. This is not a tumor or a stroke. Then what is it? Leon whispered, his voice trembling. It’s a rare, very aggressive autoimmune disease. The rumors spread faster than a hospital infection. Dr.

 Sterling shook during an operation. He almost dropped the scalpel. He canled three major scheduled surgeries. Leon locked himself in his office, rejecting all calls. His pride was shattered. He knew he couldn’t keep ignoring it. He had to find out what was going on. But he was too embarrassed to be examined by his colleagues.

 However, the fear of losing everything was greater than his shame. The treatment here will only slow the progression, Leon. It won’t stop or reverse the damage that has already occurred. Given that your profession is a surgeon, we need a radical solution. Which one? What is the solution? Tell me.

 A hematopoetic stem cell transplant will reset your immune system. It’s your only hope of being able to hold a scalpel again. A small hope lit up in Leon. Okay, let’s do it. When can we schedule it? Dr. Avery sighed deeply. This is the hardest part. That procedure is not available here in the United States for this type of aggressive autoimmune disease.

 It must be done abroad like in Singapore or Germany. Leon’s heart pounded again. The cost? How much does it cost? Dr. Avery looked at Leon with compassion. The approximate estimate for the entire procedure, medical stay, and initial recovery is about $1.8 million. $1.8 million. $1.8 million.

 That figure hit Leon in the solar plexus like an invisible hammer. He gasped. 1.8 million. He didn’t even have $15,000 in his account. All his salary went to paying the Mercedes payments, the mortgage on the luxury penthouse, Mrs. Sterling’s credit cards, and his fake lifestyle. “And my insurance,” Leon whispered, hoping for a miracle. Dr. Avery opened another folder.

 “Your work insurance. We only cover registered serious illnesses. yours falls into the rare category and the HSCT procedure for autoimmune diseases is still considered experimental by many insurance companies. Maximum coverage will be for the diagnosis and initial treatment costs here. Maybe about $150,000, no more. Leon shook his head.

Impossible. It can’t be. 1.8 million. He laughed. A dry laugh that sounded like a cry. Dr. Leon, the surgical ace who had insulted his wife for not being on his level, was now here, completely broke and with a diagnosis of a rare disease that threatened to leave him blind and paralyzed. Leon staggered out of Dr.

Avery’s office. He arrived at his penthouse. Mrs. Sterling was watching television in the luxurious living room. Leon, you’re finally here. Mom ordered an expensive dinner on your credit card. Let’s eat. Leon looked at his mother with empty eyes. I’m sick, Mom. He whispered. With what? A cold? I told you. It’s not a cold. Leon shouted. His voice cracked. I’m seriously ill.

 I need surgery abroad. It costs $1.8 million. The spoon Mrs. Sterling was holding fell onto her expensive porcelain plate. 1.8 million? That’s a joke, Leon. Where are we going to get the money? We just paid the down payment on your new car. It’s not a joke, Mom. Leon yelled. Panic finally completely took hold of him.

 I could go blind. I could be paralyzed. My career is over and we don’t have any money. We have nothing. We’re ruined. Mom, ruined. That night in the luxurious penthouse with decades of mortgage ahead, the arrogant Dr. Leon finally cried like a child, not for his illness, but for the realization that he didn’t have a single dollar to save his life and his pride.

 The panic was a silent room. Leon and Mrs. Sterling were now trapped in it. Leon’s cry, “We’re ruined,” echoed in their luxurious penthouse, bounced off the imported marble walls and expensive furniture yet to be paid for, and then hit them again with a deafening silence. Mrs. Sterling, with a pale face, was the first to break that silence. But it was not with a lament of compassion for her son.

 “No, it can’t be,” Mrs. Sterling whispered, her voice trembling. She didn’t look at Leon, who was sitting powerlessly on the floor. She looked around at the expensive abstract painting on the wall, the crystal chandelier, the 80in flat screen television. We can’t be ruined, Ken. this penthouse, your car, mom’s handbags, all this.

 Leon laughed, a dry laugh that sounded like the moan of a dying man. That’s the problem, Mom. All this is an illusion. He stood up and kicked the glass coffee table in front of him, which slid screeching to the side. This penthouse is a 20-year mortgage, Mom. We’ve barely paid 10 installments. Its value right now is much less than the capital we owe the bank.

 If we sell it, we’ll still owe hundreds of thousands of dollars. And the Mercedes you boasted about in your social circle, Mom? Mrs. Sterling still tried to deny it. That car. Leon rubbed his face roughly. It’s a 7-year loan, Mom. 7 years. The interest is choking us. If we sell it now, we won’t have enough to pay the remaining debt. We have nothing. Only debt. debt everywhere.

Mrs. Sterling gasped. She thought of the designer handbags she had accumulated in her closet. Her heart sank. Almost half were highquality knockoffs she had bought to keep looking good in her social circle without having to keep using Leon’s credit cards. They were truly living a lie. So, what do we do? 1.8 million. Mrs.

 Sterling finally slumped powerlessly onto the expensive sofa. My friends, those in the social circle, Mrs. Jenkins, the bank director’s wife, Mrs. Washington, the construction magnate’s wife, surely they can help. They won’t let their friends suffer. That vain hope burned for a moment. Mrs. Sterling picked up her phone with trembling hands. She called Mrs. Jenkins. A cheerful voice answered, “Hello, Nancy.

 What’s up at this hour?” “Darling, darling, please help me. Help me.” Mrs. Sterling instantly burst into hysterical tears. It’s Ken. Leon is very sick, darling. He needs a $1.8 million surgery. Please, darling, lend me some money. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and that cheerful voice instantly disappeared. 1.8 million. Oh my goodness, Nancy.

That’s too much. Oh, I’m sorry, Nancy. My husband is in an important meeting abroad and I can’t bother him and I’m very busy preparing for a charity event. I’ll call you later, Nancy. Click. She hung up. Mrs. Sterling was stunned. She tried calling again. Busy signal. She called Mrs. Washington. The call was rejected. She called again. Rejected again. She called Mrs. Thompson.

 The answer was the same. Oh, Nancy, we also need funds for a renovation right now. It’s a bad time. All the friends in the social circle who had praised her were now avoiding her like the plague. Mrs. Sterling threw her phone onto the sofa. They’re all liars. They’re mean. Leon looked at his mother with disgust.

 Now you realize they are only your friends when you have something to show off, just like my friends. Now it was Leon’s turn. He couldn’t depend on his mother. He had to act on his own. But his pride as a great doctor forbade him to beg. He tried calling some medical colleagues he considered close. “Hello, Marcus. Sorry to bother you so late.” Leon called his surgeon colleague, Marcus Vidal. “Oh, Dr. Sterling, what’s up? What’s going on?” Leon swallowed.

 “Look, Marcus, a really good real estate investment opportunity has come up for me abroad. I urgently need liquidity between 500,000 and $1 million. Do you have anything?” A snicker was heard on the other end of the line. “Wow, Dr. Sterling is playing in the big leagues of investment now. I give up, doctor.

 With your new Mercedes and new penthouse, you’re much better at making money. Sorry, doctor. I just paid the down payment on my son’s house, so I’m broke. Good luck with the investment. Click. He hung up. Ken let out a choked moan. Everyone thought he was rich. What irony. The arrogance he had built for a year had become a boomerang that now prevented him from receiving help.

 He tried calling two other doctors. The response was similar. Sorry, doctor. I don’t have any money right now. Desperate, Leon swallowed the last remnants of his pride. He arranged an appointment with the hospital director. He had to confess his illness. Perhaps the hospital could grant an emergency loan to its best employee.

 In the director’s cold office, Ken explained his situation without drama, only with medical facts. The director listened with deep compassion. Dr. Sterling, I’m very sorry. This is very shocking news. Of course, we will help you get the maximum out of your insurance. But, director, the insurance only covers $150,000. I need 1.8 million, Leon pleaded.

 His arrogant attitude had completely disappeared. Couldn’t the hospital grant me a loan? I don’t care if they deduct it from my salary for 10 or 20 years. The director slowly shook his head. Dr. Sterling, we are a medical institution, not a bank. We cannot allocate such a large sum for a personal loan to an employee, not even for you.

 Our regulations are strict. The maximum we can do is support you with the $150,000 from the insurance. For the rest, I suggest you try to use your personal assets, your car, your penthouse. The blow was stronger than Dr. Aver’s diagnosis. Assets. Assets. Again, Leon left the director’s office with trembling legs.

 He was officially at a dead end with no friends, no colleagues, no institutions, no assets. He was alone. The following days were hell. Leon was forced to request medical leave. The hospital management approved it very quickly. Too quickly. As if they were relieved to get rid of a doctor with hand problems. The rumors started spreading uncontrollably. Leon’s symptoms worsened.

 That morning he woke up and the edge of his left visual field was slightly blurry, as if a thin veil covered it. The disease was not waiting. He sat in the living room of his dark, luxurious penthouse. The expensive curtains were drawn. Mrs. Sterling was locked in her room, crying or sleeping. Leon didn’t care. He looked at the phone in his hand. His contact list was so full, but he felt so empty.

He began to delete names. Mrs. Jenkins, blocked, Marcus Vidal, Flatterer, Sarah, Gold Digger. He deleted dozens of names. His phone screen now only had essential names, family from his hometown who had no money. And then his finger stopped at the N. Grace McLeans. The name stayed there. Grace, Alice’s friend.

 the only person who might know where Alice was, his ordinary ex-wife, whom he had abandoned for not being on his level. Extreme shame burned Leon’s face. Contacting Grace was the most low down option. It was the most completed mission of defeat. It was proof that he had completely failed. But on the other hand, Alice was the only person in this world who had given him everything without conditions.

 He remembered Alice’s last words in the restaurant. You will regret this. The regret was here now, not as a simple feeling of guilt, but as a concrete, suffocating regret in the form of a verdict of blindness and paralysis. He looked at Grace’s name on the screen. His hand trembled violently from illness and desperation. He had to do it. He had no other choice.

 The courage Leon had boasted, the one he had used to humiliate Alice and as a shield of arrogance in the hospital, was now the size of a speck of dust. He stared at Grace’s name on his mobile screen for almost an hour. His hand, now with a more severe and hard to control tremor, rose and fell several times to press the call button. Each time he tried to press, he seemed to hear Mrs.

 Sterling’s cynical laugh and his own arrogant voice in his ears again. We are no longer on the same level. The shame burned his throat like stomach acid. Contacting Grace was raising the white flag. It was admitting that Alice, the ordinary woman he had abandoned, was his last hope. As he hesitated, his left eye throbbed again.

 The blurry shadow at the edge, seemed to grow denser. The fear of blindness was much sharper than the shame. He inhaled sharply, abandoning his pride. He pressed the call button. It rang once, twice, three times. Just when Leon thought Grace wouldn’t answer, the call connected. There was no hello, just a chilling silence. “Oh, hello,” Leon said, his voice. “Hello, Grace.

” A sarcastic sigh was heard on the other end of the line. Well, well, the respected Dr. Sterling, you still had my number saved. Grace’s voice was so cutting and full of hatred that it further undermined Leon’s courage. Grace, I’m sorry to bother you so late. You’re sorry? Grace laughed, a very unkind laugh. It’s been over a year since you dumped my friend like trash, and now you call me to say you’re sorry.

Don’t you think it’s a little late? No, it’s not that. Leon rubbed his sweaty face. I just wanted to ask how Alice was. Grace’s laughter instantly ceased. After a moment of silence, a very dangerous voice was heard. You asked about Alice after a year of not caring if she was dead or alive. Now you’re seriously asking.

 Is your doctor’s brain still working? Grace, please, Leon pleaded. His arrogance had completely disappeared, replaced by palpable desperation. I really need to talk to her. It’s It’s a matter of life or death. Life or death? Grace scoffed. Life or death? What’s wrong with you? Did you run out of money? Do you want to ask her to fund another specialization for you? Or wait, I know. Oh, you’re sick. Karma came for you, Leon.

 Grace’s accurate guess was like a slap in the face. Leon was silent, unable to refute. I knew it. Grace shouted. Her voice rose. You’re in trouble, aren’t you? I knew it. You and your mother are parasites. You thought Alice was an ATM you could go to every time you needed cash. Isn’t that right, Leon? Grace, please listen to me.

 Leon was starting to panic. I don’t want to hear anything. Grace cut him off. Listen to me well, Leon. Alice is happy. She has rebuilt her life from the foundations you destroyed. She has forgotten about parasites like you and your mother. Don’t you dare bother her again. And don’t contact me again. Click.

 The call cut off. Leon stared at his mobile screen, stunned. Grace. Grace, wait. He tried to call back. Her number was immediately busy. Grace had blocked him. Leon threw his phone onto the sofa again. Defeated, he paced back and forth in his dark living room, desperate. Grace was his only way, and that way had just closed. Mrs.

 Sterling came out of her room with a swollen face. What happened, Leon? Did you get alone? Shut up, Mom. Leon snapped. This is all your fault, too. If you hadn’t pressured me, maybe Alice would have still forgiven me. Why is it my fault? You wanted it. You said you were ashamed, Mrs. Sterling retorted. Their argument was useless.

Leon returned to his phone. He couldn’t call, but he could send a message. With hands shaking violently from a combination of illness and desperation, he typed a brief message. Grace, I know you hate me. I deserve it. But please, this is life or death. I need Alice’s contact. I’m sick. I have nowhere else to turn. I will pay her back.

 Please, last chance. He stared at the screen for a long time. His hope faded. Grace really didn’t care. Of course, why would she care? Leon threw his phone again. It was over. His life was over. But an hour later, a message notification sounded. It was from Grace. Leon’s heart pounded. He rushed to open it.

 It wasn’t an address or Alice’s phone number. It was just a cold response. Do you think Alice is still the old one? The ordinary Alice you could trample on whenever you wanted? Do you think she’ll hear you’re sick and cry with pity? How funny. Leon slumped. Grace was just mocking him. But underneath that there was another message.

 The Alice of now is too busy running her new foundation to remember the trash of the past. If you really need help, look for it yourself. Don’t be a coward. The message ended there, but Leon was fixated on one word. Foundation. What foundation? Alice had a foundation. That ordinary Alice. Were Grace’s words a trap or just another taunt? With trembling hands, he rushed to the laptop that was on the table. With his blurry left eye, he had to bring his face close to the screen. He opened a search engine.

 What should he type? Normans Foundation. He typed it. The first result froze him. It wasn’t a social media account or a personal blog. It was a professional website, the Normans Foundation. Leon’s heart seemed to stop. He clicked the link. A very sleek and professional homepage opened. On the front page was a photo of a woman. It was Alice.

 But it wasn’t the Alice he knew. The Alice in the photo wore a well-fitted dark blue suit jacket. Her hair was cut into a neat, elegant bob. She was standing in front of a modern building, smiling slightly at the camera. Her smile was no longer the soft smile of a submissive wife.

 It was the smile of a leader, dignified, confident, and cold. On the lobby wall of the building behind her was a large silver plaque that read, “The Normans Foundation broadcasting good, building the future.” Leon scrolled down with trembling hands. He read the section about the foundation founded by Alice Normans, author of the autobiographical bestseller, The Debt of Dreams.

 The Normans Foundation is a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping those struggling to get ahead. Author of a bestseller. When had Alice written a book? He continued reading. He reached the our main program section. There were several. and his eyes fixed on the main program, the Scholars Beacon Grant. Full scholarships and emergency surgery funding for outstanding medical students from underserved backgrounds. The laptop almost fell off his lap.

 Leon felt a lump in his throat. This This is impossible. It’s a joke. It’s a nightmare. His ex-wife, Alice, whom he had insulted for not being on his level, was now the founder of a huge foundation dedicated specifically to funding the education and emergency surgeries of medical students. The irony was so painful, so cruel that Leon felt nauseous.

 He rushed to search for news about Alice. He found dozens of articles, interviews in business magazines, interviews on morning television shows. Alice’s face was everywhere. Alice Normans turning pain into real action. With millions of dollars from book royalties, the Normans Foundation is poised to shape generations of new doctors.

 Leon looked at the laptop screen and then at the pile of debt collection letters on his desk. He clutched his left eye, which was starting to ache. Grace was right. The Alice of now was not the Alice of before. She was someone who was out of his league. She was the person who held the key to all his problems. And she was the person he had hurt the most in this world.

 The laptop screen remained lit, projecting a cold blue light into the dark penthouse living room. Alice’s face, smiling with dignity from the Normans Foundation website, was a stronger slap than Dr. Avery’s diagnosis. Leon didn’t sleep all night. He just sat paralyzed. In one hand, he held the MRI results. The other trembled uncontrollably. His left eye now felt very uncomfortable. His field of vision was narrowing.

 The disease was not giving him time to think. The irony of the situation was too cruel, too perfect. The woman he had abandoned for not being on his level was now the only person in this world dedicated specifically to helping cases like his. In her room, Mrs. Sterling was no longer crying. She was simply silent.

The shock she had experienced was so great that she could no longer process reality. Her social circle had stopped inviting her. Her additional credit cards had been blocked by the bank. She was now trapped just like Leon. Leon knew he had no other option. Shame, pride, arrogance.

 All that meant nothing if he went blind and paralyzed. He had to go see Alice. He had to shed the last remnant of his pride. The first problem arose, cash. He didn’t have a dollar. All his credit cards were maxed out. He looked at his Mercedes keys on the table. Useless. The finance company had the papers. He glanced at the luxury watch on his wrist.

 It was the only asset he owned, and he had also bought it in installments on his credit card. He took it off. “Damn it,” he whispered. He put on a jacket to cover his pajamas and rushed out. He headed to a pawn shop near the market, a place he would have once looked at with disdain. Yes, Dr. Sterling had to wait in line with people pawning fake gold jewelry. The luxury watch was appraised at a very low price.

He was only left with enough for a roundtrip city bus fair to the foundation’s address and one meal. He chose the cheapest option, the city bus. The journey to the downtown business district, where the Normans Foundation’s address was located, felt like a walk to the gallows. Accustomed to arrogantly driving his Mercedes, he was now sitting in the backseat of a small car that smelled of cheap air freshener.

 He looked out the window at the skyscrapers he once considered his playground. The car stopped in front of the lobby of a modern imposing office building. The glass walls stood tall. The marble lobby shone through the elegant revolving doors. A huge silver plaque sparkled in the morning sun. The Normans Foundation.

Leon paid the taxi with the money he had left. He stood trembling on the sidewalk. This This is real. It wasn’t just a website. It was a small empire. He straightened his wrinkled jacket. He felt like a beggar. With heavy steps, he pushed through the glass doors.

 The foundation’s lobby was very different from what he had imagined. It wasn’t like a small, shabby NGO office. The place looked more like a five-star hotel lobby, bustling, professional, and full of positive energy. Several young people in neat uniforms, probably scholarship recipients, walked quickly with stacks of documents. The walls were decorated with large photographs.

 Alice shaking hands with the president of a university. Alice inaugurating a rural clinic. Alice smiling, surrounded by admiring medical students. Leon’s heart sank. All this. Alice had built all this from the pain he had caused her. He cautiously approached the reception desk made of expensive solid mahogany wood.

 A friendly young woman immediately smiled at him. Good morning, sir. How may I help you? Do you have an appointment? A lump formed in Leon’s throat. I The receptionist smiled, a professional smile that now felt like a steel shield. I’m very sorry, sir. Without a prior appointment, I cannot interrupt her meetings.

 If you wish to leave a message or I told you it’s a life or death emergency, Leon shouted. His voice became desperate. His hands began to tremble violently, and he had to hide them in his jacket pockets. Several people in the lobby began to turn around. The receptionist looked a little nervous. Her hand almost reached for the phone to call security. What is all this commotion? A calm, deep, and very familiar voice was heard from the direction of a private elevator in a corner of the lobby. Leon froze.

 He recognized that voice. He turned around slowly. There, standing tall in an expensive, perfectly tailored gray suit, was attorney Silas Washington, Alice’s lawyer. His face remained calm, but the gaze behind his expensive glasses was now much sharper. He no longer seemed like a small lawyer defending an oppressed wife. He looked like a highlevel corporate legal adviser.

Attorney Washington looked at Leon. There was no surprise on his face, only cold observation. He approached. Mr. Sterling, I didn’t expect us to meet again, especially not here. Leon swallowed. His shame was now mixed with fear. Attorney Washington, do you still remember me? Attorney Washington smiled slightly. Oh, I never forget a potential client who could have earned me $500,000.

And I never forget someone who passed up that opportunity. He looked at the receptionist. It’s all right, Mina. I’ll take care of this gentleman. Attorney Washington motioned for Leon to follow him to a more private area, a waiting room with comfortable leather sofas.

 Leon sat on the edge of a sofa, his body rigid. Attorney Washington began, sitting comfortably across from him and crossing his legs. What brings Mr. Sterling here after more than a year? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about the $500,000 and want to pay it back, do you? No, Leon interrupted quickly. It’s not that. I’m sick, counselor. I’m seriously ill. I know, Attorney Washington replied dryly.

 Leon gasped. How do you know? Miss Normans’s friend, Miss Grace, called her last night. After receiving your text message, she told her everything about the autoimmune disease and the need for 1.8 million. Miss Normans asked me to meet with you if you showed up here forcefully. Leon was shocked. So Grace had informed.

 Alice knew he would come. All this was prepared. He felt like a rat in a trap. So where is Alice? Leon whispered. Hope was mixed with fear. Is she going to help me? Right. Yes, she she still cares. Attorney Washington didn’t answer, just looked at Leon with an unreadable expression. Then he reached out to the coffee table between them and picked up one of the thick, glossy brochures that were neatly stacked.

 It was the official brochure of the Normans Foundation. Attorney Washington said nothing, simply slid the brochure toward Leon. Leon’s violently trembling hand took the brochure and opened it. On the second page, the foundation’s vision and mission were clearly detailed. And on the third page was its main program, the Scholars Beacon Grant, complete educational funding and emergency surgery expense coverage for outstanding medical students and professionals.

 It was all there in black and white. Leon looked up and stared at attorney Washington with pleading eyes. counselor, this this program means Alice is going to help me, right? Attorney Washington leaned back in the sofa. He looked at Leon for a long time before finally speaking in a calm, chilling voice. It is true that Ms.

 Normans founded this organization to help people, but Mr. Sterling, this program has a procedure. What procedure? I’ll do whatever it takes. Attorney Washington smiled slightly. Good. Then go back to the reception desk. Why? Leon asked confused. To pick up a form, attorney Washington replied. The application form for medical aid beneficiaries. You will need to fill it out completely.

 Attach a certificate of social assistance, beneficiary issued by your local social services agency, a statement of your debts, the official diagnosis from Dr. Avery, and of course, a letter of recommendation. Then our team will review whether you meet the requirements. Leon froze. Certificate of social assistance beneficiary. Dr.

 Leon having to go to a municipal office to ask for a certificate of poverty. Mr. Sterling. Attorney Washington continued, “You are not here as an ex-husband seeking compassion. You are here, Mr. Sterling, as an applicant, a supplicant like dozens of other applicants. Now go and pick up the form.” Leon stumbled out of the Normans Foundation’s grand lobby.

 His body felt light and heavy at the same time, as if his soul had escaped. In his hand, he held a brochure and a few sheets of an application form that felt heavier than Dr. Avery’s verdict. Application form for medical aid beneficiary. Certificate of social assistance beneficiary issued by the local social services agency. Those words danced before his increasingly blurry eyes.

Yes, Dr. Leon, whose photo had appeared in the hospital’s internal health magazine, now had to beg for a certificate of poverty at a municipal office. It was a level of humiliation he had never imagined. Attorney Washington didn’t even escort him to the door. He let him leave alone, passing between the curious glances of the young employees who had seen him enter with the lawyer and now saw him leave with a pale face.

 He arrived at his penthouse, which now felt like a luxury prison. Mrs. Sterling immediately greeted him at the door. What happened, Ken? Did you see Alice? Did she say she would help you? She still loves you, Mom. Are you sure? Leon didn’t answer. He walked directly to the dining room table and threw the application form onto the marble table.

“Read it,” he whispered. Mrs. Sterling picked up the papers. Her eyes widened as she read the title of the form. “What is this? Why do you have to fill out a form? She’s your ex-wife.” Then her eyes fell on the list of requirements. attached certificate of social assistance beneficiary issued by the local social services agency.

Mrs. Sterling’s voice sharpened. Alice is crazy. She wants to humiliate us. She wants to make us beg. She succeeded. Mom, Leon yelled. His voice cracked. He punched the wall next to him, but his fist trembled so much that it felt weak. She managed to turn me into a beggar.

 Do you think I have another option? Huh? Do you want me to go blind? Do you want to push my wheelchair in this penthouse that the bank will foreclose on next month? Mrs. Sterling was silent. Her face was pale. Reality hit her mercilessly. Grab your bag, Mom. Leon ordered coldly. We’re going to the social services office right now. But Leon, I’m embarrassed. Mrs. Sterling wailed.

 What are you more ashamed of? going to the social services office or having the debt collectors come and throw you out of this penthouse in front of all your social circle friends. Mrs. Sterling couldn’t argue. With a trembling body, she got dressed. She deliberately put on large sunglasses and a face mask, hoping no one would recognize her. The trip to the social services office was the most humiliating of their lives.

 They couldn’t drive their Mercedes, whose taxes were overdue. They had to take a city bus that dropped them right at the peeling door of the municipal office. As soon as they entered, all eyes were on them. Employees busily typing, other citizens queuing for aid. They were a sharply contrasting sight. Mrs.

 Sterling with her hidden knockoff handbag, and Leon, the young doctor with a familiar face, now sitting in a cracked orange plastic waiting chair. Hey, isn’t that Dr. Sterling from the Heights? whispered one employee to his colleague. “Yeah, what’s he doing here? This is the social assistance window.

” Ken simply lowered his head, clenching his trembling hands on his knees. Mrs. Sterling pretended to be busy with her phone, although the screen was off. When their turn came, Leon approached the window with heavy steps. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” I want to apply for a certificate of social assistance beneficiary. Leon said in an almost inaudible voice.

The employee looked up in surprise. Excuse me, sir. For whom? For me, Leon Sterling? The employee looked him up and down. You’re Dr. Sterling. The one from the Heights, right? Excuse me, but you don’t look like it. I’m sick. Leon shouted. His voice rose. I’m seriously ill. I need a $1.8 million surgery. I don’t work anymore. I’m ruined. I have no money. Just give me the form.

The entire office fell silent. All eyes were on Leon. Mrs. Sterling wanted to faint right there. This humiliation was worse than death. After a process that felt like an eternity, filled with looks of suspicion and sharp whispers, that precious piece of paper finally was in Leon’s hands. Certificate of social assistance beneficiary.

 The municipal office stamp felt like a red-hot mark burning his palm. That night, Leon couldn’t sleep. He sat at his desk under a dim reading lamp, filling out page by page the Normans Foundation application form. Applicant name, Leon Sterling, profession, inactive surgeon. He reached the debt status section. He wrote everything one by one, swallowing his pride with every movement of the pen. The Sterling Heights penthouse.

Mortgage: $1 million. Mercedes C-Class vehicle loan $225,000. Bank a credit card $25,000. Bank B. Credit card $25,000. Bank C personal loan $15,000. The total reached $1.3 million. In the assets own section, he wrote one word, none. He attached the certificate of social assistance beneficiary, copies of all his debt collection letters and Dr. Avery’s diagnosis.

 It was a perfect dossier of his bankruptcy and his failure. The next morning, he returned to the foundation building. This time, his appearance was even more disheveled. He hadn’t shaved. His eyes were red. He handed the thick file to the receptionist, Mina, who received it with the same professional smile. Yes, sir.

 I have received the dossier. Our review team will process it. Please wait. Leon waited in the lobby. 1 hour, 2, 3. He saw people passing by. He saw cheerful medical students, probably funded by Alice. Just when he thought they would tell him to leave, Attorney Washington appeared from the elevator. Mr. Sterling, Ms. Normans will receive you now.

Ken’s heart seemed to stop. It was time. He followed Attorney Washington like a lamb to the slaughter. They went up in the private elevator to the penthouse floor, the highest one. The elevator doors opened directly to a very spacious office. The walls were glass, offering a 180° view of the city.

 In the center of the room, behind a huge, neat mahogany desk, Alice was sitting. Leon held his breath. The Alice he saw now was not the one in the photos. She was much more imposing. Her hair was pulled back in a neat, modern bun. She wore an elegant emerald silk blouse. Her face was subtly but firmly made up.

 She was reading something on her computer screen. She didn’t look up immediately when Leon and Attorney Washington entered. “Miss Normans, Mr. Sterling is here,” Attorney Washington said softly. Alice finished reading, then slowly lifted her head. Her eyes her eyes were what had changed the most. Before they were full of love and adoration.

 Now they were cold, calm, and sharp like those of a bird of prey. There was no love or hatred, only calculation. “Mr. Sterling, please sit down,” Alice said. Her voice was flat. “Not Leon, but Mr. Sterling Leon sat in a stiff chair across from Alice’s desk. He felt like an accused man. Attorney Washington stood silently in a corner of the room.

 “We have reviewed your application,” Alice began. Her voice was as calm as if she were talking about the weather. She picked up the MRI he had submitted. “The diagnosis of an aggressive and progressive autoimmune disease from Dr. Avery, need for funds of $1.8 8 million. We have verified it with the Singapore Hospital.

 The amount is correct. Amra turned to the next page. And your debt status? A total of $1.3 million. Very impressive. You managed to squander so much money in just one year. Leon blushed with shame. Alice. Leon couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to beg. Alice, I was wrong. I was blind. Alice, I was arrogant. I Alice slightly raised her hand, palm toward Leon, a small gesture with immense power that instantly silenced Leon. Mr.

 Sterling, she said, her voice still flat. I am not interested in your apologies. That is your personal matter and has no value in this business proposal. Business? Leon opened his mouth. Of course, this foundation is a legal entity. $1.8 million is a very large investment to save a life.

 My team must review whether the asset to be saved is worth that cost. Leon felt stabbed. Asset. She considers me an asset. Of course, you are a trained surgeon. You have a skill. It would be a shame for you to go blind or paralyzed. Alice looked at him steadily, but you have a very poor track record in managing investments provided by others. That sentence hit Kan right in the heart. Alice was referring to the cost of his 5 years of tuition.

 Leon lowered his head. He was completely defeated. Then Alice, what is your decision? Are you going to to reject me? Alice leaned back in her chair. She looked at Leon for a long time. The silence in the room was very heavy. No, your application has been approved. Leon let out a gasp. Tears of relief almost flowed.

 Alice, thank you. Thank you. I promise I I’m not finished yet. Alice cut him off. Her voice was still icy. The foundation will cover the entirety of the $1.8 million for your surgery in Singapore. Oh, God. Thank you, Alice. Thank you. And Alice continued as if Ken hadn’t spoken. The foundation will also take over all your consumer debt, the $1.3 million.

Leon was speechless. What? Alice, you’re going to pay my car payments, my penthouse mortgage. Correct. I do not want your assets to be bothered by collectors while you recover. Leon couldn’t believe it. This was more than he expected. Alice, I don’t know what to say. Say nothing because this is not a gift, Alice said.

 It is not charity or compassion. Alice stood up and walked to the large window looking at the city below. It is a grant, an employment contract. Leon tensed up. Employment contract. Alice turned around, her eyes fixed on Leon’s. There was no trace of love in them, only pure business. The Normans Foundation will invest a total of $3.1 million in you.

 After you fully recover, and you will recover, you will no longer be the arrogant, free Dr. Sterling. You will be an asset owned by the Normans Foundation. Leon looked at Alice in disbelief. An asset owned by the foundation. Exactly. Alice sat back down in her chair as if closing a routine business deal. She gestured to Attorney Washington.

 Attorney Washington stepped forward and placed a thick black leather folder on the desk in front of Leon. “Read it, Mr. Sterling,” Attorney Washington said. “That is your employment contract.” Leon’s trembling hand opened the folder. Inside were not one, but dozens of sheets of dense legal contracts, including a debt assignment agreement and a dedication contract. Alice began to explain.

 Her voice was flat and emotionless, as if reading a financial report. First, the foundation will settle the entirety of your $3.1 million in debt within 24 hours. $1.8 million for your surgery and 1.3 million to pay off the mortgage, car loan, and all your credit cards. Leon swallowed.

 Second, all assets related to those debts. The Sterling Heights penthouse and the Mercedes C-Class vehicle will be seized by the Foundation as collateral. Attorney Washington’s team will handle the eviction tomorrow morning. You and your mother have until tonight to pack your bags. Leon gasped. Eviction? But where will I live? Third, the foundation will provide you with basic accommodation for the duration of the contract, a room in our clinic staff residence. Fourth, this contract is binding.

 You will dedicate your medical career under the opaces of the Normans Foundation, taking into account that the foundation’s total investment in you is $3.1 million and the standard salary for a physician in our clinic is $4,500 per month. Alice picked up a calculator from her desk and typed in silence.

 You will be under an exclusive dedication contract with us for 28 years. 28 years. Leon deflated. It was a life sentence. However, Alice continued as if reading his mind, if you perform exceptionally well, our foundation has an early release program for assets of excellence. If you can demonstrate exceptional dedication and service in a remote area, your contract could be reviewed. Remote area? Leon whispered.

 Surely you didn’t think I would assign you to a luxury hospital in Atlanta, did you, Mr. Sterling? Alice smiled slightly. It was the first smile Leon saw, and it was the most terrifying. You will be assigned to our service clinic in a small town in the Mississippi Delta, an 8-hour drive from the city. Leon bowed his head.

 He had no other choice. Sign a 28-year contract in a remote town or go blind, paralyzed, and pursued by collectors in jail. I’ll sign, Leon whispered. A wise choice, Alice said. She held out an expensive pen to him. Leon took the pen. His hand trembled violently, half from the illness, half because his fate had just been sealed. He signed every page attorney Washington pointed to.

 Good, Alice said. As soon as the last signature was completed, Attorney Washington will take you to the bank to open a new account in the foundation’s name and will prepare your departure for Singapore the day after tomorrow. Work hard, Dr. Sterling.

 Alice returned to looking at her computer screen, completely ignoring Leon as if the meeting were over and Leon was no longer in the room. Two days later, attorney Washington’s team arrived at the Sterling Heights penthouse. Mrs. Sterling, who thought Alice would change her mind and let them stay, cried hysterically, “Alice, you’re wicked. How can you do this? This is our home.

 Where are we going to live?” Attorney Washington simply showed a valid seizure order. I’m sorry, ma’am. This mortgage has been paid by the foundation. According to the contract, this asset becomes the property of the foundation. You have 1 hour to collect your personal belongings. The arrogant Mrs.

 Sterling had to force her clothes into a suitcase while listening to the gossip of the penthouse neighbors. Leon’s Mercedes was towed from the underground garage. Mrs. Sterling was taken by taxi to a small, suffocating rental apartment on the outskirts of the city, whose first 3 months of rent were paid by the foundation. After that, she would have to fend for herself. Meanwhile, Leon underwent the operation in Singapore. Everything went well.

 Stem cell technology managed to reset his immune system. His recovery process was long and solitary. There was no Mrs. Sterling to care for him, no colleagues to visit him, only a nurse hired by the foundation. Two months later, Leon returned to the US. He was fully recovered. His hands no longer trembled. His vision was clear again, but he was no longer a free man. He was picked up at the airport by a foundation employee.

 He was handed a simple uniform shirt with the Normans Foundation logo and was immediately transported to the bus station, an 8-hour journey on a hot regular bus and then a 2-hour motorcycle taxi ride down a dirt road. He finally arrived at the service clinic, a simple white building in the middle of a town surrounded by cotton fields.

 There was no air conditioning, only fans. There was no high-tech equipment, only a stethoscope, a blood pressure monitor, and basic medications. The former surgical ace, Leon, now had to treat coughs, colds, diarrhea, and assist with births using basic equipment. At first, he felt furious, resentful, and humiliated. But he had no other option.

Every day, he worked under the strict supervision of the clinic director. Back in Atlanta, Mrs. Sterling suffered. The money for the three months ran out. She was forced to sell her handbags. Yes, the same woman who had once humiliated Alice now had to work as an assistant in a restaurant, scrubbing dishes, struggling to survive.

 Every time she saw Alice’s face on the television news as a prominent philanthropist, Mrs. Sterling could only cry in her small rental apartment with infinite regret. 6 months passed and Leon began to get used to it. He started finding something that had been missing in his life, sincerity. He saw the patients in the town who were simply grateful for an examination. He helped a child with a broken arm using basic tools.

 He realized that the meaning of being a doctor was not luxury or status. One afternoon, a helicopter landed in the town field, surprising all the residents. Kan, who was treating a farmer’s wound, looked up. Alice stepped out of the helicopter, accompanied by attorney Washington. She had come for a routine inspection.

 Alice, dressed in a neat linen shirt, entered the clinic. She saw Leon, who was now slightly tanned by the sun. His uniform shirt was soaked in sweat. Alice did not greet him personally. She checked the medication inventory books and patient records. She stopped in front of Leon, who was comforting a child crying over an injection.

 Leon’s hand, which once trembled from illness and arrogance, was now very firm and gentle as he patted the child’s back. Their eyes met for a moment. Leon inclined his head in greeting. “Good morning, Miss Normans. The daily patient report is on the clinic director’s desk. Alice looked at him for a long time.

 There was no longer anger in her eyes, only the gaze of a leader toward her employee. Good work, Dr. Sterling. Keep it up. You have 27 and 1/2 years left. Alice turned around and returned to her helicopter. Leon watched as the helicopter flew away. He sighed deeply. He really wasn’t on Alice’s level. Alice was in the sky and he was on the ground. Alice had won perfectly.

 She had not only recovered her money, she had not only taken revenge. She had taken Kan’s life, destroyed it, and then rebuilt it into her own version. Not as an arrogant husband, but as a dedicated physician. Alice had managed to broadcast good in the most painful and just way possible. A brief lesson. Arrogance is debt with the highest interest. It will be collected when we are least prepared. Sincerity, on the other hand, is an investment. It will often be returned twofold in the most unexpected ways