Chapter 4

Reading the nonsensical text message, Oprah had a hunch that it came from him. He must have realized she had blocked his previous number, so he switched to another one to harass her.

Oprah decided not to reply, hoping he would think he had sent it to the wrong person.

But then another message arrived, "If you keep avoiding me, don't blame me for doing something irreparable to you."

Oprah furrowed her brow, contemplating momentarily, and finally replied, "What do you want?"

"To break up with Alfred."

"That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. Once you break up with him, I can fulfill all your desires in bed and elsewhere."

Oprah burst into anger and laughter, tossing her phone aside. She no longer wanted to entertain this deranged man.

However, the realization that he knew so much about her life unsettled Oprah. She couldn't help but feel a mix of horror and frustration. In her exasperation, she responded, "What have I done to offend you? Why are you tormenting me like this? Do you want to drive me crazy before you stop?"

This time, he didn't immediately reply.

As Oprah wondered if she had exposed his plot and left him speechless, he suddenly sent her a long text.

"You're driving me insane. I've tried to ignore you, give up on you, and stop caring, but every night when I close my eyes, I can't control the desire to possess everything about you."

"I want to kiss you from head to toe and fuck you passionately. Your whole body should belong to me; no one else should touch it."

"Oprah, did you cast a spell on me? Why am I so addicted to you?"

...

A loud smack echoed as Oprah's phone hit the floor.

She sat blankly on the bed, overwhelmed by the crazed and perverse words she had just read.

She couldn't fathom why he was so fixated on her, akin to fanatical admirers who pursued celebrities. It both scared and intrigued her.

Picking up her phone, Oprah hesitated momentarily before responding to him, "If you like me, why don't you come and find me directly? Sneakily harassing me will only make me hate you more."

After sending the message, Oprah waited for half an hour, but there was no reply from him. She felt even more perplexed. Could he be unattractive or hiding some dark secret, afraid of being despised if he revealed himself?

She put her phone aside and prepared to sleep. Finally, a message was sent from him, although it wasn't a response to her previous question.

"Alfred isn't as perfect as he appears to be. If you don't believe me, come to G&A Club tomorrow night at eight, and you will see his true colors."

He still tried to defame Alfred without revealing his identity, so Oprah replied furiously, "Even if he's only pretending in front of me, he's still a hundred times better than you, hiding in the shadows and refusing to face me!"

After sending the message, Oprah turned off her phone.

When Oprah woke up the following morning, she realized she hadn't called Alfred before sleeping.

Since they became an official couple, they would talk for a few minutes every night before sleeping, even if it was to say goodnight. But due to her anger towards his antics, she had forgotten about it the previous night.

As expected, there were two missed calls on her phone, both from Alfred.

Oprah dialed back.

A soft, languid female voice answered, "Hello?"

Oprah was taken aback, wondering if she had dialed the wrong number. She rechecked her phone and confirmed that it was indeed Alfred's number.

But why was a woman answering his phone?

The woman, noticing Oprah's silence, triumphantly chuckled, "You must be another one of Alfred's mistresses, right? Tut, he spent last night with me..."

Before she could finish, Oprah abruptly ended the call.

The mirror beside her reflected her pale face, her tightly pressed lips conveying determination and despair.

As night fell, the city's neon lights began to illuminate, casting their dazzling colors. which signaled the start of a night filled with revelry.

Oprah had been waiting outside the G&A Club for almost half an hour.

The G&A Club was a renowned entertainment venue favored by wealthy and influential playboys. Some elite individuals also chose this place to unwind from their work pressures.

Oprah couldn't help but admit she was a little afraid, fearing that Alfred was as promiscuous as he had described. She stressed that all the warmth and care she had received during this time were fake, just like those from her ex-boyfriend.

As eight o'clock approached, she finally mustered the courage to step inside. She gently pushed open the door to the private room, following the number he had provided.

Inside the private room, there were numerous people. It was noisy and dimly lit, so nobody paid attention to Oprah.

However, Oprah immediately spotted Alfred sitting in the center of the sofa.

Alfred was passionately kissing a woman in a skimpy dress, his hands freely stroking her body.

Someone cheered, "Alfred, be a man and fuck her in public, will you?"

Alfred smiled flirtatiously, "Why not?"

Just as he was about to undress her, he suddenly saw Oprah standing at the private room door. He froze in an instant, pushing her away from him.

Others exchanged confused glances, not understanding what was happening.

Someone sneered, "Could it be that Alfred is impotent?"

Alfred ignored the comment, straightened his clothes, and walked up to Oprah with a gentle smile, asking, "What are you doing here?"

Oprah faintly smiled, "I truly admire your acting skills, Alfred."

Her smile was beautiful yet delicate, revealing a captivating stubbornness.

"I'm just playing around with them. It means nothing," Alfred tried to reach out and hold Oprah's hand, his tone as tender and indulgent as ever.

With disgust, Oprah avoided his touch. "Don't touch me with your dirty hands."

The thought of Alfred's hands touching countless women made her feel repulsed. Even the very hand he had held now felt tainted.

When she returned home, she would wash her hands thoroughly.

Alfred's smile remained unchanged as he softly coaxed, "Oprah, I only have genuine feelings for you. Everyone else is just for socializing."

Oprah responded expressionlessly, turning around and walking away without uttering a word to him.

Unexpectedly, Burgess was standing right before her as soon as she turned around.

Burgess had one hand in his pocket, wearing a cold and proud expression. The corners of his thin lips curved into a smirk, and his eyes locked onto Oprah's as if he was watching a good show.

Someone approached enthusiastically, "I thought you wouldn't come tonight, Mr. Harrison."

Burgess calmly replied, "Even I need to unwind at times."

"Yes, yes, that is right, Mr. Harrison. We don't have to do anything. Just have a drink and enjoy ourselves."

When he said this, he deliberately glanced at Oprah, speaking up for Alfred.

A wave of nausea washed over Oprah, intensifying her aversion towards Burgess. She thought to herself, "Birds of a feather flock together. Why does he bother to pretend to be aloof and arrogant?"

Several people in the private room looked at Oprah, their gazes akin to watching a spectacle. Perhaps in their eyes, it was absurd for Oprah to come to the secret room and expose an affair.

How could Oprah not sense the malice behind those stares?

Suddenly, she realized that coming here was the right decision. At least she could see Alfred for who he indeed was. However, she wasn't a monkey on display, who was here to be played with on the streets.

A self-deprecating smile briefly graced Oprah's delicate face. Without casting another glance at Alfred or paying any attention to Burgess, she turned around and swiftly left the private room.

Unexpectedly, Alfred didn't chase after her, but Burgess did.

Burgess tightly gripped her arm, causing her pain, so she irritably asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

Burgess stared intently at her and said, "Do you regret it now? If you still want to be with Alfred, I can only say that you're hopelessly foolish!"

That statement instantly angered Oprah.

"Yes, I am foolish. I didn't listen to you and allowed Alfred to toy with my emotions. You've waited so long to see me become a laughingstock, right? Have you seen enough now?"

Burgess furrowed his brows and remained silent.

Oprah angrily shook off his hand and ran out, heading outside the G&A Club before allowing her suppressed tears to fall.

A gust of night wind blew, and Oprah wiped away the cold tears from her face. She walked alone on the street, aimlessly going from one place to another. Suddenly, she was unsure of where she should go.

Should she return to her apartment? It would be empty, and she would be alone.

Should she go back to Harrison's house? But that wasn't her home, and she wouldn't feel the love and care of her family there.

Roxanne would only make her please Burgess and Old Mr. Harrison, creating an illusion of marital bliss and happy children, making everyone believe that her second marriage was highly fulfilling.

Oprah stood beneath a street lamp, staring blankly at the signboard across the street, contemplating that Alfred was genuinely skilled at acting.

Perhaps he saw through her loneliness with just one glance, knowing that she yearned to be cared for and loved by others. That was why he showered her with affection and tenderness every day.

And so, Oprah had fallen into his trap of false affection.

Fortunately, she hadn't completely immersed herself in this false love. Otherwise, she would genuinely have become a laughingstock now.

Yet deep down, she still felt wounded.

A woman holding a little girl approached Oprah, and the girl curiously looked at Oprah, saying to her mother in a sweet voice, "Mommy, her nose is bleeding."

She glanced at Oprah and found her quite peculiar, so she hastily took the girl away.

Perplexed, Oprah touched her nose and felt a hand covered in blood.

Lately, she had been experiencing nosebleeds without any apparent reason. Sometimes, she didn't even realize it was happening. Initially, she attributed it to the hot weather, but now she felt foreboding.

The following day, intending to get a check-up, Oprah went to the hospital.

There were lines everywhere in the bustling hospital, and she waited for two hours before finally having her turn.

Afterward, she approached the doctor for a prescription and got her blood drawn for testing. She anxiously waited for the test results... Finally, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Oprah received the report.

"According to the report, you have acute myeloid leukemia," the doctor concluded sympathetically and regretfully as he read the report. He gazed at Oprah, recognizing that she was still so young.

Oprah's heart sank when she heard the diagnosis. However, she also considered the advancements in medical technology. Leukemia wasn't necessarily a terminal illness. With proactive treatment, there was hope for a cure.

Anxiously, she asked, "Is there a cure? Do I need a bone marrow transplant? How much will it cost?"

"The truth is, it cannot be cured." The doctor shook his head. "Not all cases of acute leukemia can be treated with a bone marrow transplant. Furthermore, finding a matching donor is another challenge..."

Oprah felt her head buzzing. She saw the doctor's lips moving, but no sound reached her ears. A chill ran through her body, leaving her feeling utterly numb.

She didn't know how she managed to leave the hospital. Her mind was blank, her hands and feet icy cold. It wasn't until the sun shone on her that she felt a glimmer of warmth.

She realized she was approaching death.

Oprah pondered to herself whether her mother would be devastated by the news. Would she experience the same regret as the mothers in dramas when they learned their daughters were dying?

She wanted to call Roxanne and share the news, hoping to receive genuine care. However, Oprah knew all too well that Roxanne wasn't that kind of person. Real life wasn't like a drama. Roxanne only cared about her marriage and the Harrison family.

Oprah gazed at the contacts on her phone. There were many people, including her former classmates, teachers, and colleagues. And yet, she realized that there wasn't a single person she could confide in.

There was no one to whom she could express her final words.

As she scrolled through her contacts, she came across his number. Suddenly, Oprah felt an intense urge. She wanted to meet this mysterious man before she died.

He had genuinely helped and cared for her, even though he always teased her.

At that moment, Oprah didn't hesitate. She sent a direct message to him, saying, "I broke up with Alfred. Are you brave enough to come to see me tonight?"

Ten minutes later, she received a reply, "Tonight at 8 o'clock, Room 088, Hilton Hotel."