He Pretended to Forget Me, So I Erased Him for Real Chapter 02

He Pretended to Forget Me, So I Erased Him for Real Chapter 02

Urinaemia.

That word on the medical report felt like hot needles piercing my retinas. I fought back the tears, looking at my mother’s pale, waxen face on the hospital bed. For the past few years, I had been so consumed by Gideon Blackwood that I failed to notice the marks illness had been carving into her.

Guilt and regret crashed over me like a flash flood. I couldn’t stop the tears from splashing onto the crumpled lab results in my trembling hands.

When it came time to pay the exorbitant deposit, my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. My heart sank to rock bottom when I checked my banking app—the balance was laughable.

The nurse behind the counter tapped her pen impatiently, her gaze dripping with white-collar disdain. “Miss Vane? We need the payment to proceed.”

I clutched my phone, my voice small and desperate. “Could you… is there a financial aid program?”

Right then, Gideon appeared at the elevator bank. He strode toward me, his breathing slightly hitched from the rush.

“Elara, I heard your mother was admitted…”

Seeing my tear-streaked face, he pulled my shivering body into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

That warm embrace. Those steady, reassuring words.

He was always like this. He always managed to manifest at my most vulnerable moments—when I got into a fender bender, or when city officials were threatening to impound my hot dog cart. It was as if he had some psychic foresight, dropping from the sky just in time to play the hero.

Growing up without a father, I had always craved a strong pair of shoulders to lean on. That was why, even after Gideon broke my hand, I chose to forgive him.

Because he knelt to apologize. Because he stayed by my side during recovery, enduring my bitterness without a word of complaint. I fell for him—a man twelve years my senior. The warmth of a mature man is like neat bourbon; one sip, and you’re intoxicated. So drunk you lose your sense of direction.

“Uncle Gideon!”

Vivienne’s voice cut through the air. Gideon pushed me away almost mechanically.

I snapped back to reality, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. How pathetic was I? Falling for his synthetic warmth yet again.

Vivienne glanced at the balance on my phone screen and let out a theatrical gasp.

“Elara, is that all you have left? Is Uncle Gideon not giving you a big enough stipend?”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was pitched perfectly to draw the attention of everyone in the lobby. People started whispering, their eyes labeling me as Gideon’s kept woman, a low-rent mistress.

Gideon frowned, but he didn’t offer a word of explanation. Instead, he leaned in and whispered to me.

“Vivienne didn’t mean it like that… I’ll talk to her when we get home. She’s fragile, Elara. I can’t humiliate her in public.”

So, to protect her dignity, I had to wear the label of a social climber? Of course. I was a “sinner” in his eyes—how could I ever compare to his cherished ward?

I looked at Gideon, the last traces of warmth draining from my gaze. “Wire me five hundred thousand dollars. Now.”

Gideon froze, visibly blindsided. I had never asked him for a single cent before. But if I was going to be branded a gold-digger anyway, I might as well get my money’s worth. More importantly, I needed that cash to save my mother’s life.

Gideon’s expression darkened, a flicker of genuine displeasure crossing his face. “What did you just say?”

“All those designer bags and jewelry you ‘gifted’ me? I never touched them. They’re worth well over fifty thousand. Consider this an advance.”

Gideon ground his teeth, his temper flaring. “That’s entirely different, Elara.”

He was right. It was different. When a master tosses a scrap to a dog, it’s charity. When the dog demands a payout, it’s extortion.

Vivienne gently patted Gideon’s arm, and he instantly calmed down like a lion being tamed. She looked at me with a smile that carried no warmth—only pure, unadulterated condescension.

“Elara, Uncle Gideon rushed here and didn’t bring his cards. I have five hundred in cash on me—you should take it for now.”

She pulled a wad of bills from her Hermès bag and reached for my hand. But as she pressed the cash into my palm, her sharp, manicured nails dug deep into my flesh.

I winced and jerked my hand away.

Vivienne let out a sharp cry and collapsed onto the floor, the cash fluttering around her like falling leaves. She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with crocodile tears.

“Elara, why did you push me? I just wanted to help… I didn’t mean to insult you.”