Chapter 3 One Last Chance

After arriving at the hotel, Chase unpacked and collapsed onto the bed, sleeping like the dead. Thick curtains blocked out the setting sun. By the time he woke up, it was already dark. For a moment, the unfamiliar room threw him off. He got up, took a quick shower, and opened his laptop to start handling his study abroad preparations. His professor had sent him the contact info of a mentor at Darovia Medical School—he’d need to reach out in advance. Chase could manage some basic Darovian, but if he was going to live there, he’d need to study it properly. Thinking it over, he used the money from the card to sign up for a language course and checked his account while he was at it. He hadn’t touched any of the money from his mother-in-law or Wendy. The only funds in the account were from his old scholarship. After all, the Quinn family had paid all his mother’s medical expenses toward the end. He still had a bit of that scholarship money left. He’d have to pay them back someday. He needed to figure out how to make a living. He reopened an old blog he hadn’t touched in ages. It still had a few essays he’d written back in school. His writing had always been praised—plenty of classmates had asked him to ghostwrite their love letters. He used to post regularly, and starting with his second entry, he’d set a small paywall. To his surprise, people still paid to read it. Even more surprising, his blog’s backend showed quite a bit of money waiting. He withdrew it all. Digging around, he finally found his phone under the bed. Must’ve dropped it while he was sleeping. The screen didn’t respond at first, but after plugging it in, it powered up. The second it reconnected to the network, his screen exploded with messages and missed calls. He figured they were from his professor—maybe more information about the Darovia program. But when he opened them, they were all from Wendy. "Joy has a fever and needs porridge. Where are you? Why aren’t you home? Where’s the rice? Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now? A kid is sick and you’re sulking? Get back here!" Chase stared at the screen for a few seconds and couldn’t help but laugh. That was Henry’s child—not his. Why on earth should he care? And that house is hers. She’d lived there for five years and didn’t even know where the rice was kept. Wasn’t that laughable? They were getting divorced. It was better not to get tangled up anymore. So he didn’t reply. But Wendy didn’t let it go. Just as he was about to set the phone down, it rang again. This time, it was her sister, Stella, lighting into him the second he answered. “You really have no conscience, do you? A child’s sick, and you don’t even care? My sister told you to come back and make porridge! The whole family’s waiting on you!” Chase frowned. “Who’s waiting on me?” “Wendy, Henry, Joy, and me. That’s four people! Get back here and cook. Joy wants a homemade pizza. She doesn't like the ones from restaurants. You make them.” The commanding tone was almost laughable. Chase couldn’t help but sit up straighter. “First of all, Joy isn’t my child. I have no obligation to care for her. Second, if you want to wait for me, go ahead. I won’t be coming. And lastly, from a medical standpoint, pizza isn’t suitable for a sick child. It's hard to digest.” On the other end, Stella was stunned. Chase could actually talk that much? “Is that Chase? Let me say a few words to him.” Stella—visibly annoyed—handed the phone to Henry. “Chase, we haven’t met, but I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have come into your home without permission. It’s just that Joy is sick and not listening. If it bothers you, I’ll leave with her right away. But you shouldn’t avoid your own home because of us.” His words backed Chase into a corner, making it sound like he was being petty with a child. Chase licked his dry lips out of habit. Years of trying to please Wendy and his naturally non-confrontational personality left him struggling for a response. But he wasn’t going back. “Mr. Henry, we haven’t met because when I pulled Wendy out of that wreck, you’d already been taken away. Doesn’t matter. We’re not exactly people who need to meet.” From the background, Stella shouted, “What do you mean ‘his home’? That house belongs to my sister! She can bring whoever she wants! What right does he have to make decisions?” “Stella.” Wendy’s voice cut in sharply. “Enough.” But Stella wouldn’t let it go. “Am I wrong? You bought that house. What’s it got to do with him? He’s just a leech trying to scam money!” She had always been biased against him, and after the marriage, that hatred had only intensified. Stella adored Henry and believed Chase had stolen his place. Their mother had explained countless times that Henry had married someone else overseas, but Stella refused to listen. Chase didn’t need to hear more. “She’s right. That’s not my home.” With that, he hung up and silenced his phone. Stella and Henry stared at the disconnected line, both momentarily stunned. “Did he just hang up on me?! Does he even want to come back?!” But Wendy felt something else—panic. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she’d missed something important. She’d called Chase back that afternoon to make up for forgetting his birthday. She was going to take him out for dinner. She hadn’t expected things to spiral like this. But years of living in power had twisted her temperament. She couldn’t bring herself to lower her pride and make peace with Chase. His screen lit up with a new message: "Get back here right now. If you don’t, I’m changing the fingerprint and password. You’ll never get in again. A clear threat." Chase shook his head with a helpless sigh. They’d already signed the divorce papers. If she wanted to delete his access, so be it. He replied, "Okay." Wendy, fuming, called immediately. He didn’t answer. The mood to write his blog was gone. He sat motionless in front of his computer for a long time, his body stiff as stone. He couldn’t understand how his life had turned out this way. If I hadn’t agreed to marry Wendy back then, maybe I’d already be a renowned surgeon by now—showing the world what I’m capable of in the operating room. The dim room was lit only by the glow of the computer screen, casting shadows over Chase’s colorless profile. He was, without a doubt, a handsome man. Ever since middle school, girls had always chased after him. But he’d never had time for love. His focus had always been on his studies. He never wanted to waste his talent. Until he met Wendy. Wendy wasn’t the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, but her tears… they had fallen straight onto his heart at the worst moment of his life. Scalding. They hurt too much for me to say no. It was a cycle with no exit. If he didn’t marry her, his mom wouldn’t get the help she needed. She might have died even sooner. There was no way out. Thank God it only lasted five years. He’d made it to the end. Now, he could start over. His love for Wendy had been worn away by years of disappointment. All that remained was regret. Regret that he never received her love. Maybe even a bit of jealousy toward Henry. His phone lit up again. Wendy wrote, "I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you." Chase stared at the message, confused. Come get me? For what? So I can watch you and Henry play happy family?