The Major General Faked His Terminal Illness Chapter 01

The Major General Faked His Terminal Illness Chapter 01

After my apparent death, I underwent surgery for a brain tumor and lost all my memories.

I don’t remember my uncle, who pretended to be poor on purpose to exploit me.

I don’t remember the humiliation of being forced by him to kneel before someone and humble myself and endure endless humiliation just to please my foster sister.

I underwent full-body plastic surgery and went on to get married and have children.

It wasn’t until three years later, while I was in a baby store, that I ran into a strange stranger.

He stared at me in shock. “Sienna, if you’re still alive, why haven’t you gone to find Gavin Gray? Do you have any idea that he’s been looking for you for three years and almost killed himself?”

I asked him blankly, “I’m sorry, but I had brain surgery and don’t remember anything from before.”

“Who is Gavin Gray?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than silence fell over the crowd.

I felt a sudden pang of anxiety for no apparent reason and instinctively turned my head to look.

Outside the window, in the deep, heavy darkness of the night, the man’s eyes were red-rimmed as he stared intently at me.

******

That man told me that Gavin Gray was my uncle and also the youngest Major General in the National Capital Region, stationed at Joint Base Myer-Henderson Hall.

After the Gray family fell from power, he was diagnosed with ALS.

After I was discharged from the military, I took out a loan from a loan shark and shouldered the burden of my uncle’s difficult later years all by myself.

Over the past five years, the debt collectors beat me badly, leaving me with severe internal injuries,but I couldn’t bring myself to buy painkillers.

I was exhausted from commuting to work, but I couldn’t bring myself to take a break.

Every penny went toward keeping my uncle alive.

It wasn’t until I was working as a waiter at a five-star hotel that I saw my uncle,

who should have been sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for me to come home, dressed in a crisp military uniform with shiny epaulets,

he stood at attention, chatting and laughing casually with his former subordinates.

“Major General Gray, you’ve been faking ALS for five years now. Sienna has worn herself out trying to cure you. Don’t you think this punishment has gone on long enough?”

My uncle snorted derisively, “It’s about time. If Sienna hadn’t been so selfish and intolerant of Luna, driving her into depression, I wouldn’t have had to resort to faking my downfall and a terminal illness just to wear her down.”

“After being transferred to Fort McNair for a stint to boost her credentials, Luna’s mood finally improved, and she agreed to forgive Sienna.”

“In a little while, I’ll have the medical team arrange a ‘miraculous recovery,’ and then Sienna can return to her unit. After going through all that hardship, she should have learned her lesson by now.”

His former subordinates hesitated a little, “ALS is a terminal illness—how could anyone possibly recover from it? Can Sienna really believe that?”

My uncle smiled with confidence, “That silly girl—I raised her from a little girl. Is there a single word I say that she doesn’t believe?”

“Luna is the orphan of a martyr and has a sensitive nature, so as her older sister, Sienna should be more considerate of her. I’m only doing this for her own good. Someday… I’ll make it up to her.”

I bowed my head, and tears fell silently.

But Gavin, there’s no ‘someday’ for us.

Your terminal illness is a hoax.

But mine is real.

…

The cold wind blowing in through the window made me feel very cold.

I was like an oblivious puppet, frozen in place, enduring the slow agony of my faith crumbling over the past five years.

With every sharp twist, raw red marks spread across my heart.

Leo, my uncle’s buddy in the army, sighed. “If you ask me, you’re really heartless. That’s a child you raised yourself—the youngest ace sniper in the Brigade. She left the army just because you asked her to. She’s barely in her twenties, but she’s already worn herself out like an old maid. Just a few days ago, she was short eight hundred to help you buy some imported medicine, so she even came to me to borrow money.”

My uncle’s face immediately darkened. “Did you borrow it?”

Leo shook his head helplessly.

“You gave me a strict order—how could I dare? That girl stood right outside my dorm room all afternoon. She fainted from low blood sugar, but I didn’t dare help her up. When she finally came to, she walked away on her own, holding onto the wall.”

What Leo didn’t mention was that I’d fallen into utter despair that day and pressed my service weapon against my temple.

I told him firmly, “If you refuse to help, I have nothing left to hold on to.”

After going seven days without medicine, my uncle began coughing with faint red traces.

But Leo just stared at me with reddened eyes, gritted his teeth, unloaded my gun, and shoved me out the door as if I were the plague.

It turned out he wasn’t unwilling to lend it; he simply couldn’t.

My uncle snorted coldly. “Listen up, everyone. Until Luna returns from her recuperation in D.C., no one is to help Sienna. Whether she kneels, begs, or even dies right in front of you, you are not to give her a second glance.”

“Luna overthinks, and she’s only just recovered from depression. Five years of ‘punishment’ on Sienna can’t be cut short by a single day. If anyone upsets Luna, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

The private room was deathly quiet.

Someone awkwardly interjected, “Major General, aren’t you afraid that if Sienna finds out the truth, she’ll be heartbroken?”

No sooner had he finished speaking than my uncle snorted derisively.

“Heartbroken? I raised her; I’m the one who gave her life. What’s a little hardship like that? It’s different with Luna. Luna has no family or friends and has suffered so much. It’s my duty to treat her well.”

He scanned the room. “Not one word of this leaves this room and reaches Sienna. Understood?”

I leaned against the cold wall, my hands and feet going numb.

It turned out that these five years, for which I risked my life, were nothing more than a carefully orchestrated punishment.

My future, my honor—all it took is a slight frown from Luna for my uncle to dismiss them with a casual, “It’s only natural.”

I wanted to laugh, but a metallic, rusty taste rose in my throat.

The phone rang in the private room, and footsteps approached the door.

I didn’t have time to get out of the way, and as I turned around in a panic, I bumped into the manager carrying wine.

The bottle reserved exclusively for the military shattered into pieces.

The manager’s expression suddenly changed, and he slapped me across the face.

The door to the private room swung open, and my uncle strode out, not even glancing my way. He simply spread his arms wide and caught Luna as she rushed toward him.

“Why did you come back on your own? Didn’t we agree that I would pick you up?”

Luna laughed cheerfully, “I just missed you, Gavin! I wanted to surprise you!”

I was wearing a mask and kneeling on the cold marble floor, less than two feet away from them.

My reddened eyes stung sharply in the glare of the sparkling diamonds on Luna’s watch.

Any single one of those diamonds would be enough to pay for my uncle’s imported medication for three months.

The manager approached cautiously: “Major General Gray, I’m so sorry… that man broke the bottle.”

A pair of black military boots came to a stop right in front of me.

My uncle frowned impatiently. “All right.”

He pointed at me. “Since you’re the one who broke it, you’re going to clean up this patch of carpet with your bare hands.

If Luna so much as steps on any broken piece, you’ll take full responsibility and make amends.”

I knelt down, resting my palms on the carpet as I moved slowly forward.

Shards of glass pierced the skin, leaving faint crimson streaks across my skin.

Luna let out a soft “Ouch” and hooked her arm through Gavin’s: “Gavin, my feet hurt.”

“You’re such a wimp. I’ll carry you out—it’s dirty in here.”

A black military boot stepped over the back of my hand and walked away without pausing.

I knelt where I was, staring at my palm covered in bright red stains, and suddenly let out a low chuckle.

Tears mixed with a warm red trickle from my nose fell one after another.

The manager was startled. “What happened to you? Why are you covered in so many red marks?”

I staggered to my feet and roughly wiped my face with my sleeve.

The sleeve cuff was immediately marked with a deep red smudge.

“Maybe… I’m about to die.”

Ignoring his stunned expression, I turned around, leaving a trail of red marks winding behind me as I walked, and moved step by step toward the exit.

As I opened the front door, I heard the sound of breaking porcelain coming from the kitchen.

My uncle was struggling to push himself up with his arms, trying to climb out of the overturned wheelchair.

When he saw me, he froze, lowered his head, and his eyes quickly welled up with tears.

“Sienna… I just wanted to heat up a cup of milk for you… I’m such a failure… I’m just a burden…”

His speech was slurred, drool trickled from the corner of his mouth, and combined with his trembling hands and desperate gaze, he looked exactly like a patient with ALS who had been suffering from the disease for years.

It suddenly occurred to me that, before he was “diagnosed,” my uncle had a severe case of OCD.

He, a man who polished his service weapon three times a day and made sure his uniform was completely wrinkle-free, actually managed to keep up this shabby, painful charade for five whole years—all for Luna.

At that moment, I almost wondered what lay hidden in his heart, whether he had any warmth left at all.

Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, he slumped his shoulders:

“Sienna… do you think your uncle is dirty? Go ahead… leave me alone…”

I walked over silently, straightened the wheelchair, and helped him into it.

I turned to fetch some warm water and wiped the stain off him.

He suddenly grabbed my wrist and stared at my sore, stained palm of my hand.

“How did you get this? Who hurt you?”

I stared at the feigned anxiety in his eyes: “I was hurt by someone who looked a lot like my uncle.”

“Right at the New Haven Hotel.”