"Sir, has Madam come out yet?" The driver, still waiting in the parking lot, had to call to confirm.
"About fifteen minutes ago. Mom already left," Ned said, glancing at his watch.
"I've been waiting at the hospital entrance. Madam never showed up." The driver sounded anxious.
"That's impossible. She's been gone a while." Ned paused, thinking. "Hmm, I'll check the nurses' station. I'll call you back."
......
"You're saying—you really found our daughter? How did you find her? Where is she now? Where are you? Are you with her?" The man on the other end fired off questions in a frantic rush.
"I'm at the hospital. Jonathan saw us leaving the hotel together and we had a huge fight—he suddenly had a heart attack relapse! I picked up his wallet at the nurses' station, and inside… inside was a photo of that mistress and her daughter! But… but that shameless woman's daughter… her daughter… that girl… she's our daughter! Our daughter… our daughter! Ah… I'm going insane…" Victoria roared in agony.
The man on the other end nearly dropped the phone, his face ashen, cold sweat pouring down.
"How could she do this? How could she steal my husband, steal my daughter, let my daughter live her whole life being pointed at, branded a bastard, while she calmly schemed against me—made me raise her illegitimate child?! How can this woman be so vicious… how can she, how can she… be so evil?! So shameless?!" Victoria screamed herself hoarse, collapsing to the floor.
"That woman… she… she's terrifying. She's the one who swapped her son for my daughter all those years ago… that woman! Jonathan's illegitimate daughter… is our daughter."
He understood. Stunned into silence by the shock, he had no response… The phone slipped from his hand. He never imagined fate could be so cruel… The daughter he had always felt guilty about, the one he had missed for years, was the very girl he had once manipulated—and ultimately forced to drop out of school…
Behind the potted plant around the corner, Ned had heard everything—and understood it all.
"Daddy, why are you just standing there? On the phone?" His daughter, dressed neatly in her school uniform, was a member of the university cheer squad. That afternoon, she was heading to watch an intercollegiate basketball game between Manchester and Oxford. She wasn't cheering today—just serving her teammates from the sidelines.
"The phone just fell on the ground—who was calling?" The man, still dazed, stared blankly at his daughter approaching, as if seeing the silhouette of another girl superimposed on her.
"Oh, oh—I had water on my hands, heard the phone ring, didn't dry them, and it slipped when I picked up." He forced composure, bent to retrieve the phone, heard the beep-beep-beep of a disconnected line. "It was Ned's mom. She said Ned's dad had another heart attack—seems serious. He's already in emergency. She asked me to reach out again to that cardiothoracic specialist from last time for another consultation."
"Again? How can it be this bad? It hasn't even been five years since the last major episode! Was he triggered by something? What about Ned? Is he okay? I'm going—I have to go to the hospital. He must be losing his mind. I'm going, Dad." Before she finished, she grabbed her purse, dashed to the parking lot, and sped off in her red Ferrari with a roar.
Watching her rush away, the man calmly pulled out his phone and called Victoria—but no answer. He dialed four, five times… nothing. He sank into thought, remembering the girl who had been expelled—
"The person in the photo is me." The girl's eyes held no panic—only a strange relief, as she stared at the stack of photos on the desk. "It was in the hotel's executive suite. Just me and Ned. And yes, in the end, Ned did give me fifty thousand pounds." The dean's eyes bulged; he covered his mouth, speechless.
"Your conduct grossly violates university regulations. We are a prestigious, traditional institution. We permit dating. We permit consensual intimacy between students. But we do not permit transactional sex. How is that different from prostitution?" His tone was polite but ironclad. He was Charles Cadogan, honorary professor at the LSE, board member of a major British property conglomerate, owner of a Chelsea mansion. As a professor, he found such behavior repugnant. And since his own daughter was infatuated with Ned, this girl had to go. The poor, he believed, should not be allowed good lives.
"The university issued a notice at the start of term: you have been expelled. Did you not see it?" the dean said sternly. "Not publicizing your disgrace was already the greatest leniency."
The girl's eyes dimmed. She twisted the hem of her uniform, tears welling. "Professor, please don't make me drop out. I don't want to leave. Can I explain? I can bring Ned—he can clear this up with the school."
"There's nothing—" he snapped, glaring.
Suddenly, her phone rang urgently. She apologized, answered: "Hello, this is * Hospital… Mom…" Tears exploded. She snatched her bag from the floor, bolted out the door, sprinting toward the gate, sobbing into the phone, "Wait for me—wait for me!—"
He never saw her on campus again. Four years passed. She had vanished as if she had never existed. No trace. No word.
Up to this moment, upon suddenly learning that this girl was actually his own biological daughter, he was filled with utter regret—why had he, back then, relied solely on a photograph to make subjective assumptions and refused to hear her full explanation? Why had he, because of his younger daughter's infatuation with Ned, recklessly insisted on forcing her to drop out of school and stay away from Ned? That inexplicable phone call, and the girl's sudden frantic dash from her seat, crying out "Wait for me—" as she fled, vaguely foreshadowed that something terrible had happened... As these thoughts raced through his mind, his heart suddenly twisted in pain, his breathing growing rapid and labored. Realizing his old ailment was flaring up, he shakily pulled a standby emergency pill from his jacket pocket, grabbed the water glass from the coffee table, swallowed the pill with a gulp, and then collapsed onto the sofa as if completely drained of strength...