My Billion-Dollar Hidden Identity

The living room light was half on.
Warm yellow light spilled onto the floor, sketching a blurred dividing line.
On one side of the line was the sofa where I sat; on the other was the empty carpet.
When Chaim Lincoln pushed open the door, the sound of his leather shoes on the floor echoed loudly.
As if purposely shattering the quiet, half-lit stillness.
He didn't take off his coat; the cold clung to his black suit from outside.
He sat down directly in the single armchair opposite the sofa, the cushion pressed into a shallow dent.
The cup on the coffee table was still steaming—it had been brewed by me just ten minutes ago.
Water droplets clung to the inside of the glass, slowly sliding down its side.
He stared at the hand resting on my knee, his gaze as cold as ice.
Suddenly, he spoke, his voice was so cold, "Wendy Sutton, let's sign an agreement."
My fingers gripping the cup handle paused for a moment, the warm water transmitting through the glass to my fingertips.
He said again, "open marriage."
Those words were like small stones thrown into an icy lake, cracking delicate fissures.
I said nothing, only slid the cup a little closer to myself.
Just wait for him to completely tear off the fig leaf.
"Don't worry about me and Mandy," he leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee.
"You're still Mrs Lincoln; I won't shortchange you, nor will I let you suffer any injustice."
The meaning couldn't be any clearer.
He wants me to accept him sharing a husband with Mandy and pretend I don't care at all.
My right hand curled instinctively, the scar at the webbing tightening faintly.
The scene from three years ago in the mountains suddenly flooded into my mind.
The rain had just stopped that day, and the mountain path was slippery and steep.
He was bitten on the leg by a sharp-nosed viper. With rapid spread of the venom, his calf swelled, shining painfully.
The sky darkened rapidly, with only insect chirps and the wind around—there was no way to find the path.
I crouched down and let him lie across my back.
He was half a head taller than me, his weight pressing down on my shoulders which caused severe pain to me.
I carried him running for three hours before we finally reached the nearest clinic at the foot of the mountain.
Along the way, a rock at the cliff's edge scratched me—from the web between my thumb and index finger down to my wrist—cutting a two-finger-wide gash.
Blood gushed out immediately, soaking the light-colored sleeve of my shirt.
The bones were all exposed, and every movement felt like needles piercing me.
Blood dripped down my arm, soaking through the corner of his shirt.
Later, the wound healed but left a lingering problem.
Whenever it rained, my entire right hand would go numb, making even holding a pen difficult.
In these three years, he never once mentioned the matter.
It seemed as if all my desperate efforts to save him had been nothing more than a meaningless dream.
When he slammed the door as he stormed into the study, the loud bang made the paintings on the wall tremble.
I pulled out my mobile phone and retrieved that note from the very back of the drawer.
The number was left to me by Mr. Clark from the Cure Agency three years ago; the paper was already yellowed, and I had never called it.
I pressed on the screen for a long time before finally entering the number correctly.
When the call connected, my voice was steady, without any emotion: "Mr. Clark, cut off the supply of medicinal herbs to the pharmacy stores run by Lewis and Lincoln families."
Mr. Clark didn't ask any questions or explain why; he simply said in a low voice, "Okay."
After hanging up, my pale face was reflected on the mobile phone screen.
I got up in the middle of the night to get water; only the low hum of the refrigerator echoed in the living room.
Passing by the study, I heard some movement inside.
It was Chaim Lincoln on the phone, his tone impatient and dripping with disdain.
"She's just a poor guy in the mountains and what could she possibly understand?"
"Does she really think that by marrying into the Lincolns, she can just cling on forever?"
"Once she signs the papers, I'll cut off the subsidy she's been getting."
"What? Not signing?" He sneered, "Then just send her back to the mountains and let her live her whole life in that poor place, starving on thin air."
My hand gripped the water cup, knuckles whitening.
The cold cup pressed against my palm, but it couldn't extinguish the fire inside me.
Water spilled onto the floor, spreading into a small patch of dark stain, without making a sound.
Just like my efforts over the past three years—silent and unnoticed by anyone.

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the cracks in the curtains, casting a beam across the floor.
I placed the signed agreement on the dining table in front of Chaim Lincoln.
The pages lay flat under my hand, without a single crease.
He picked it up, glanced at it, and the corner of his mouth curled into a sneer, "You're still quite smart."
The coffee cup sat beside his hand, steam rising, blurring his expression.
I sat across from him, my fingers lightly tapping the table in a slow, steady rhythm.
"You're collaborating with the Lewis—is to get accessed to collaborating with the Cure Agency?"
The hand holding the coffee faltered, his eyes flickering as if he hadn't expected me to ask that.
After a few seconds, he set the cup down and admitted frankly, "So what if I am?"
Mandy Lewis's father gets on with someone at the Cure Agency and can help me obtain the formula of Meridian Relief Ointment.
"With the formula, I can open more clinics, and then..."
He didn't finish, but the satisfied look on his face said it all.
I sneered coldly inside but showed no emotion on my face, simply saying lightly, "Then you'd better get along well with Mandy Lewis."
"Don't end up losing the recipe and ruining yourself in the process."
He thought I had compromised and didn't notice the sarcasm in my words.
He picked up his mobile phone to send a message, his fingers flying across the screen, no longer paying any attention to me.
At noon, the phone vibrated and the screen lit up.
It was Mandy Lewis's Twitter post, just uploaded and still fresh.
The picture was the wedding photo of herself and Chaim Lincoln, which was taken in a downtown church.
Mandy Lewis wore a white wedding gown, its train trailing on the ground, a pearl headpiece adorning her hair.
Leaning her head against Chaim Lincoln's shoulder, her eyes crinkled in laughter as she held a pink bouquet.
The caption read: "Finally found the right one, also for the rest of my life! it will be you."
Beneath it, many comments poured in, all filled with blessings.
"Truly a perfect match of talent and beauty!"
"Mandy is finally going to be happy—congratulations!"
"Dr. Lincoln is so handsome; wishing you eternal happiness!"
I locked my mobile phone and set it down on the table.
The moment the screen went dark, I thought I saw myself from three years ago.
At three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang urgently and forcefully, as if trying to smash the door open.
When I opened the door, I saw Chaim's mother, dressed in an elegant gown, her hair perfectly styled.
Behind her were two servants carrying cloth bags, with a folding ruler sticking out from the top.
"Wendy, where is Chaim?" Without waiting for me to speak, she pushed past me and walked straight to the bedroom.
Her high heels clicked sharply against the floor, producing a harsh, grating sound.
"Where did you hide him? Did you use some trick from your mountain village to charm him again?"
She stormed into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and threw every piece of clothing inside onto the floor.
"You are just a pauper without any horizon, only wanting to freeload off the Lincolns."
"Chaim Lincoln must be blind to have married a country girl like you!"
The two servants didn't waste any time either. They started rifling through my bag in the living room.
One of the servants pulled out a delicate box from my bag and when it opened, it revealed the jade pendant I had placed inside.
She grabbed the jade pendant and ran over, presenting it like a treasure to Chaim's mother, "Madam, look at this worthless stone. She treats it like a treasure and carries it with her every day."
The lady took the jade pendant, barely glanced at it, then threw it to the ground: "What a worthless trinket—how could it ever appear in our house?"
The jade pendant hit the floor with a crisp sound but didn't break.
At that moment, the roar of a car engine came from downstairs, loud and unmistakably from a luxury vehicle.
The servant hurried upstairs, flustered, "There's a man in a suit downstairs saying he's here to pick up Sutton, and he's driving a large black car."
I walked over to the balcony and looked down.
A black Rolls-Royce was parked below, its gleaming body reflecting shadows.
Mr. Clark stood beside the car, dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a dark red brocade box.
The mother of Chaim followed, leaning over to look down, curling her lip.
"What a junker! Putting on airs. Trying to flex on my family?"
After a while, the doorbell rang again.
This time it was Mr. Clark. He came upstairs, approached me, and gave a slight bow.
He opened the brocade box to reveal a jade pendant made of mutton-fat white jade, smooth and milky white, exquisitely engraved with the two characters "Cure Everything."
"Miss Sutton, it's time to return to home."
Mrs Lincoln leaned in, her eyes wide as saucers, and reached for the Jade pendant.
"Which kind of cheap jade is this, daring to flaunt it at me?Let me see it!"
Mr. Clark stopped her hand, his tone turning cold and authoritative, leaving no room for doubt: "This is the token of the Cure Agency. You have no right to touch it."
Her face reddened, as if angry but also a little guilty: "Stop lying! How awesome the Agency is! Why would they want someone like her from the mountains?"
She pointed at me, her voice trembling, "She's a liar. You two must be in cahoots!"

When Mandy Lewis's father, Jared Lewis, arrived, Chaim's mother was still shouting loudly in the living room.
He wore a gray razor-sharp, stand-collar suit, his hair neatly combed, and appeared much steadier than Chaim's mother.
As soon as he entered, his gaze fell on the Jade pendant in Mr. Clark's hand.
His expression suddenly changed and he rushed over. His steps become unsteady.
"This is... the ancestral jade of the Cure Agency?" His voice trembled as he reached out, yet he dared not touch.
Mr. Clark nodded calmly, "Do you know it, Mr. Lewis?"
Jared Lewis's hand froze mid-air, his gaze shifting from the jade pendant to me, filled with shock and confusion.
"You... you're from the Cure Agency?"
Mandy Lewis followed behind, and the moment she heard those words upon entering, her face instantly turned pale, her lips colorless.
She rushed over, grabbing Jared Lewis's arm.
"Dad, don't listen to his nonsense! She's just a mountain girl; how could she possibly be from the Cure Agency?"
"They must have conspired together, trying to trick us!"
Jared Lewis ignored her, shrugged off her hand, and picked up the jade pendant to examine it closely.
His fingers gently traced the two characters "Rejuvenation", then he looked at me and said, "That's right—the cloud pattern on this jade pendant is exactly the same as the one I saw years ago at the Cure Agency."
"Back then, I went to the Cure Agency with my father to seek medicine, and fortunately saw the jade once—it looked just like this."
Chaim Lincoln returned at five in the afternoon.
As soon as he walked in, he tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and immediately picked up his mobile phone.
His finger swiped across the screen, and suddenly he let out an "ah". His face turned completely pale.
"What's going on? How did I get expelled from the Medicine Association?"
He suddenly looked up, his eyes fierce and menacing, staring straight at me: "You did this?"
I sat on the sofa, holding a book and flipping to a certain page without looking up: "So what if it is?"
"On what grounds?" He rushed over, reaching out to grab my wrist, with quick and desperate actions.
"Do you know how hard I tried and how much I put in to join the Association? Do you know that? And just a single word, you led me expelled?"
I pulled my right hand back to avoid his, gripping the book so tightly the pages crumpled.
"Have you forgotten who gave you the ingredients for the Meridian Relief Ointment?"
He froze, his eyes bewildered. "What ingredients?"
"Three years ago, you were injured in the mountains. The batch of Detoxifying Herb I gave you." I closed the book and looked up at him. "Later, when you made the Meridian Relief Ointment, you used extracts from that very herb."
"That herb is a rare variety unique to the Cure Agency. Only I can obtain it, and only I know how to cultivate it."
His face shifted colors repeatedly—from pale to red, then to green—like a painter's palette. "Impossible! You are just an ignorant pauper! How could you possibly have access to the Cure Agency's resources?"
"You must be lying to me!"
"You don't believe me?" I stood up and straightened my clothes. "Mr. Clark, let's go home."
Mr. Clark nodded, took out his mobile phone, and quickly sent a message.
Half an hour later, all the people arrived at the foot of a mountain, where the Cure Agency was built.
The car stopped at the crossroads before a huge stone gate, on which the two large characters "Cure Agency" were carved.
The stone gate slowly creaked open with a heavy groan.
Inside lay a bluestone path, lined on both sides with all kinds of herbal medicines, lush and fragrant.
I walked ahead with steady steps.
Chaim Lincoln and Mandy Lewis followed behind, their faces grim and their steps dragging.
When we reached the pavilion halfway up the mountain, I stopped.
The pavilion was wooden, with herbal medicine motifs carved into the pillars.
"Three years ago, it was right here that I saved you from the jaws of a snake."
"Back then, your leg was swollen like a bucket, and the pain made you cry out—you said if you weren't saved, your clinic would be doomed."
"I carried you on my back, step by step down the path."
"Along the way, my right hand was scratched by a rock, blood running down my arm, and yet you said that once you recovered, you would repay me well."
Chaim Lincoln's face flushed red and then pale, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine: "I... I was just speaking casually back then... I thought you wouldn't take it seriously..."
Mandy Lewis tugged his sleeve sharply, her voice sharp: "Chaim, stop wasting time arguing with her. Let's go!"
"She just wants to trick us. Maybe this place is rented!"
I watched their retreating backs and said nothing more.
The wind blew through the pavilion, carrying the scent of herbal medicine, brushing against my face, which is so pleasant.
The jade pendant in my hand seemed to warm as well.

The annual conference of the Medicine Association was held at the city convention center.
The convention center was huge, with cars parked all around outside.
A red banner hung at the entrance, boldly proclaiming: " Medicine Association Annual Conference."
When I arrived, a crowd had gathered at the entrance, mostly doctors in formal attire and representatives from pharmaceutical companies.
Jared Lewis was there with Mandy Lewis, pleading with the association staff.
Jared held a thick envelope in his hand and said, "Please make an exception. We are willing to contribute one million dollars just to get inside and learn a little."
The staff shook their head firmly. "No, without an invitation, no one is allowed in. This is the Association's rule, and it cannot be broken."
Mandy saw me, her eyes instantly reddened, as if she had been terribly wronged.
She rushed at me, reaching out to shove me with a swift, harsh motion.
"Wendy Sutton, are you doing this on purpose?"
"Deliberately keeping us out of the Association is because you are afraid we'll expose your true self!"
"You only got into the Association by using tricks; you don't understand medicine at all! You're nothing but a fraud!"
I stepped aside just in time—her hand missed, and she almost fell.
I didn't argue with her; I simply walked around and entered the venue.
Inside, the hall was already packed with people.
The bright lights bathed the entire room in a warm glow.
Director Carter sat in the front row, dressed in a white Tang suit, his hair gray but his spirit lively.
Spotting me, he smiled and waved, his voice booming, "Wendy, come sit here—I saved you a seat."
I walked over and took the empty seat beside him.
No sooner had I sat down than I overheard some whispers behind me.
Though soft, their voices reached my ears clearly.
"Is that Wendy Sutton? I heard she got into the Association because of her relations with someone."
"Yeah, she used to be a country girl, barely educated. How did she suddenly become skilled in medicine? There must be some under-the-table maneuvering."
"I also heard she married into the Lincolns just for money, and now she's trying to improve herself by hitching her wagon to the Association. What a calculating person!"
That was Mandy Lewis's voice. She had slipped in unnoticed and was gossiping about me with two women in suits nearby.
The two women listened and nodded as they spoke, occasionally casting contemptuous glances in my direction.
I didn't look back; I kept listening to the person ahead.
Halfway through the conference, Director Carter stood up and took the microphone.
The room fell instantly silent, every eye fixed on him.
"I have an important announcement today." He cleared his throat and swept his gaze across the room.
"After a vote of all Association members, taking into account individual medical skill, ethics, and contributions to the medicine industry, it has been decided to appoint Wendy Sutton as the new President of the Medicine Association."
The entire room went dead silent; you could even hear a pin drop.
After a few seconds, someone stood up and shouted loudly, "Why? How young is she? How long has she even been in the Association?"
Mandy Lewis also stood up, her voice sharp: "Exactly! She's just a woman from the mountains, never properly trained in medicine—what does she know about medicine? She's simply not qualified to be next president!"
Several others echoed her, and the meeting hall quickly descended into chaos.
Director Carter ignored them. He pulled a document from his briefcase and held it up: "This is Wendy's achievement report from recent years."
"She has cured over thirty difficult and rare diseases, including the chronic ailments of two academicians."
"She developed three new medicines that have filled gaps in certain areas."
"Last year, she was the one who spearheaded the development of the antidote for the plague in the west of the city, saving over a thousand lives."
"If any of you have objections, feel free to come up and review this document, which contains patients' signatures and hospital certification."
No one dared to step forward, and the hall fell silent once more.
Just then, Chaim Lincoln burst into the room.
He held up a photo high in his hand, as if presenting some kind of evidence.
"Everyone, look! This is what Wendy Sutton looked like before!"
The photo was taken just after I came down from the mountains; I was wearing old clothes faded from washing, my hair a tangled mess, and my face streaked with dirt.
"She's just a poor country girl, barely able to get enough to eat up in the mountains!" he shouted loudly, his voice hoarse.
"She only married into the Lincolns by trickery, and now she's scheming to get into the Association. How can someone like her be the president? Don't be fooled by her!"
I stood up and slowly walked over to him.
Sunlight poured through the window, warm against my skin.
"That's right, this is a picture of me from long ago."
"I came from the mountains; my family was poor, and I never attended any prestigious university."
"But I've been learning medicine from my master since I was a child—identifying herbs, preparing prescriptions, practicing for over ten years."
"I rely on my own medical skills to heal and save people, and on my own efforts to join the Association—without taking any shortcuts."
"And you?" I looked at him; my eyes showed no anger, only calm.
"You steal my ingredients to make Meridian Relief Ointment, and use the Lewis family's connections to get into the Association. What right do you have to judge me?"
"Your Meridian Relief Ointment would be completely ineffective without my ingredients."
"You joined the Association not to serve in the medical field, but merely to add prestige to your Clinic and make more money."
The photo slipped from his hand onto the floor; his face went pale, his lips trembling, unable to speak a word.
Everyone in the hall looked at him with strange eyes.

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