Bought with Millions, Paid with Death Chapter 04

Bought with Millions, Paid with Death Chapter 04

Then hterminated the call before I could respond. 

When I tried to message back, a glaring red exclamation mark appeared–he had blocked me. 

The very last sliver of fading light finally went out. 

Listening to the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor in the sterile room, I felt an unprecedented peace. 

No begging to stay, no desperate explanations. 

systematically deleted every personal social media account tied to him, severing the connection entirely. 

The day I was discharged, I didn’t return to the penthouse. Instead, I ordered my security team to bag up every single one of Noah’s personal belongings and dump them at the landfill. 

listed the property for an immediate fire sale and checked myself alone into an exclusive private hospice. 

Lying in my new bed, I called Paige to calmly make my final arrangements. 

On the other end of the line, upon hearing everything she broke down completely, sobbing hysterically and cursing Noah as an absolute scumbag. 

But I remained unnervingly still, my voice calm: 

“Don’t worry about him anymore. Once the Global Fashion Awards wrap up next month, I’ll be gone.” 

After checking into the private sanatorium, I had planned to quietly wait for the end. But on the eve of the Global Fashion Awards, I dragged my failing body back to the agency for one last resource meeting. 

As I crossed the lobby, a swarm of paparazzi ambushed me. I hadn’t brought Noah this year. Instead, my escort was Leo, a newly signed, strikingly Handsome mixed–race model. 

The moment Leo stepped into the light, camera flashes blinded us. A reporter shoved a microphone in my face, demanding to know if he was my new boy toy. 

“No,” I replied, perfectly flat over the commotion. ” He’s a protégé entrusted to me by an old friend. I’m just giving him the exposure he deserves.” 

But the press only prints what sells. By the next morning, the headlines unanimously insinuated that had dumped my old flame for fresh meat. 

I didn’t let the gossip slow me down. 

Over the next few days, pulling every string I had left, I secured Leo several top–tier opening slots–shows 

that originally belonged to Noah–and set up an exclusive PR team just for him. 

The internet crucified me for being heartless, but I was beyond caring. 

With my affairs in order, I booked a one–way ticket to a premier Swiss hospice. 

On my final night, I visited a private club to properly say goodbye to a few old friends. 

I barely made it into the lounge when I collided with a blackout–drunk Noah, propped up by two industry acquaintances. Reeking of cheap whiskey, he slurred, ‘ She wouldn’t dare… wouldn’t dare actually leave me. 

His buddies‘ faces lit up like they’d found a life raft. ” 

Ms. Vance, thank God. Please, take him,” one begged under Noah’s dead weight. “He’s been drinking into a 

stupor here every night, throwing tantrums, swearing he’ll only go home if you fetch him.” 

I didn’t even lift a finger. “Then he’ll be disappointed. 

I’m not here for him, I’ve sold our house. There’s nowhere for him to return to.” 

The two men froze. “Well… where are you staying now?” his friend stammered. “He needs somewhere to crash.” 

“We’re done,” I said with absolute calm. “Whether you take him elsewhere or leave him in the gutter is none of my business.” 

Ignoring their shock, I walked straight out the revolving doors. As I slid into my waiting car, I caught the exasperated sigh of his friend drifting through the cold air. 

“Christ. Sober, he acts like he’s finally free, but drunk, 

he thinks she’ll come running the second he snaps his fingers. Did he seriously think she’d wait around forever? He really screwed himself.” 

The next morning, before my flight, I thrust a thick envelope into Paige’s hands: a *Severance and Asset Settlement Agreement*. 

A beginning bought with money, an end settled with money. Only fair. 

Shortly after I arrived at the Swiss hospice, my vital signs crashed. Even the world’s most elite medical team could only sustain my shallow breaths. 

Propped weakly against the pillows, I swiped a trembling finger across my phone, pulling that desperately familiar number out of the blocklist. 

Death coaxes out a lingering sliver of vulnerability. I had meant to leave a final message. But staring at the empty text box, I couldn’t summon the strength to type a single letter. 

I deleted the half–formed thoughts and closed my eyes. 

Let it be. Never again. 

My strength faded, and the phone slipped onto the duvet. 

The life monitor erupted into a shrill alarm. Doctors‘ chaotic footsteps echoed through the ward before the erratic spikes of my heartbeat finally flattened into a smooth, unyielding green line. 

But my consciousness didn’t immediately plunge into darkness. 

Stripped of my agonizing shell, I felt an impossible lightness. Drifting upward, my vision stretched across the globe, anchoring onto a studio set thousands of miles away. 

Blinding spotlights illuminated Noah’s arrogantly handsome face. 

When the news of my death hit the set like a quiet Hurricane, he was shooting a high–fashion campaign. His assistant, pale and trembling, scurried over during a break and whispered in his ear. 

Suspended in the air, I heard Noah scoff. “What kind of stunt is this? Pushing that Leo kid wasn’t enough, 

so now she’s faking her death to force my hand?” 

He shoved the assistant away and strutted back to the lens with maddening nonchalance. Staring at his callous demeanor, my soul felt absolutely nothing. 

Moments later, Paige stormed onto the set, flanked by a lawyer and holding the settlement documents. She didn’t interrupt the shoot, just stood chillingly still behind the monitors. 

The second the director yelled “Cut!“, Paige charged forward, slamming the severance agreement squarely into Noah’s chest. 

Noah flinched, catching the dossier and skimming the bold title. He snatched a pen, a mocking smirk on his face. “What, drawing up settlement papers to make room for your latest project?” 

Smack! 

A deafening slap shattered the studio’s hum, violently cutting him off. The crew fell into a deathly silence. 

Looking at Paige’s furiously shaking hand, ant overwhelming urge to embrace her washed over me. 

How dare you speak about her like that?” Paige’s voice was absolute ice. “Where do you think your haute couture came from? If Miranda hadn’t paved your way with cold hard cash, her blood, and her connections, you’d still be groveling to loan sharks in some dirty alley!” 

Noah clutched his stinging cheek, shock and rage contorting his face. He opened his mouth to snap back, but Paige’s fury pinned him down. 

“Every resource you’re so damn proud of was bought with her life! She is dead! While you were making headlines with Riley, she was coughing up blood in a chemo ward! In so much agony she couldn’t sleep, she just wanted to hear your voice. Instead, you screamed 

at her and blocked her!” 

Noah froze. The fight drained out of him. The agreement slipped from his grasp, pages scattering across the polished floor. 

“No… impossible…” The color rapidly drained from his face until he looked like a corpse. He lunged, furiously gripping Paige’s wrists. “How could she be dead? She was just arranging gigs for me! Call her now! Tell me she’s just doing this to make me beg!” 

Watching his pathetic, delusional breakdown, I felt no thrill of vengeance–only a profound exhaustion, followed closely by total liberation. 

Disgust radiating from her eyes, Paige ruthlessly pried his fingers off her wrists and shoved him hard into the sea of scattered papers. 

Save your pathetic tears,” Paige hissed, delivering my final verdict with utter contempt. “She explicitly forbade you from attending her funeral.” 

As Noah collapsed under the spotlights, clutching his hair in a guttural scream of absolute despair, Paige turned on her heel and walked away without looking back.