I'd been on my best behavior lately—so much so, even the staff sounded more relaxed when they updated Spencer.
He stopped by a few times to check in, asking if I needed anything.
I didn't hold back. Every time, I asked for money.

Eventually, he handed over a card and kept topping it off. Whenever he showed me the latest transfer, I'd down a whole bowl of that custom-made, super-nutritious soup right in front of him without a second thought.
Finally, I hit the weight goal needed for surgery.
Spencer and Doctor Bever were thrilled.
They took me to Doctor Bever's private hospital, where he handled the exam himself.
"What the...?!"
His sharp yell cut through the room. But realizing Spencer was just outside, he quickly dropped his voice.

"Your kidney has issues?"
I sat up, fixing my clothes, and stared him down. "I'm not gonna last much longer anyway. These last two months of your over-the-top care? They've been the most comfortable days I've had in years."
I'd already lost one kidney.
After the Saun family hit rock bottom, I stayed by Spencer's side, helping him rebuild his empire and breathe life back into SaunCorp.

He was too proud to ask for help, so I did all the dirty work for him—every negotiation, every deal. I even drank at every meeting so he wouldn't have to.
And then there was that one time, back when we were young, when Spencer believed that lie about Fiona nearly getting raped for him.
But the truth? It was me who had suffered that fate—for him.
With my body and spirit shattered, how could I possibly stay healthy?
Doctor Bever stormed out of the room.
"T-This... This can't be..."
Outside, I heard Spencer's voice, rough and desperate.
"Don't panic, Spencer. There has to be another way..."
But none of it mattered to me anymore.
Then came a voice that froze my blood.
"She has two kidneys, right? One might be bad, but the other must be fine..."
Spencer. Oh, Spencer. So you don't want me alive, either.
I didn't know what Doctor Bever did, but somehow, Spencer gave up on taking my non-existent kidney.
Instead, he tossed me out.
Of course, I didn't forget to take the bank card with me.
The first thing I did was buy a new phone and SIM card, then I called Clara.
When she found me, I was squatting outside a dessert shop, inhaling a freshly baked pastry.
"That bastard," she hissed as she hugged me. "Thank God I didn't lose your ID."
She was crying and laughing all at once.
I wiped my mouth and patted her back. "Don't worry, I'm rich now. Let's go eat and drink until we can't move."
"Wait, what? How'd you get rich? And—hold on—why do you look... heavier?"
Spencer had thrown so much money my way. I used part of it to buy a luxury apartment and put it under Clara's name.
My clock was ticking, and I couldn't let her keep drifting through life without a solid foundation.
But just when I thought things had finally calmed down, word about the apartment leaked.
Old scandals—ones people had almost forgotten—got dredged up again by those looking to stir the pot.
Soon enough, I was back in the crosshairs of online hate.
It all kicked off with a livestream Fiona hosted.
She looked like a ghost: pale, gaunt, barely hanging on. Her timing was perfect, as always. Right before she spoke, a single tear slid down her face, cementing her whole "tragic heroine" act.
Her voice trembled as she said, "Maya, please... I'm begging you, save me."