Escaping with My Child, I Became a Top Illustrator

Caleb's temperature shot up to 40 degrees Celsius, his little face flushed bright red, his entire body convulsing—this was his sixth febrile seizure. I held him close, rushing downstairs, my hands and feet shaking uncontrollably. "Driver, please hurry! City First Hospital!" I shouted at the taxi driver, my voice choked with sobs I couldn't suppress. Caleb whimpered weakly in my arms, his tiny body burning with fever. I patted his back while dialing Mark Collins' number. The call rang for a long time before it was answered; the background was filled with the clamor of an amusement park. "What's up? I'm busy right now." Mark Collins's voice was impatient, mixed with a woman's laughter and children's playful noise. "Caleb is having another convulsion! I'm rushing him to the hospital; you need to get here immediately!" My voice trembled uncontrollably. "It's just a convulsion, not the first time. Handle it yourself for now." Mark's tone was light and dismissive. "I can't leave." "You can't leave? He might end up in the ICU! Where exactly are you?" I raised my voice. "I told you, I'm with Ms. Clark, playing with her daughter. I have to stay." Mark's voice dropped. "Don't blow this out of proportion. The hospital has doctors. Just pay the fees and register first." "Mark Collins!" I tried to say more, but the call was already cut off. The taxi pulled up to the hospital entrance. I paid, then rushed into the emergency room clutching Caleb. "Doctor! Please save my child!" Nurses immediately surrounded us, taking Caleb into the resuscitation room. I slumped onto a chair outside, tears finally breaking free. I don't know how long I waited before the doctor came out, his expression grave: "The child's condition is serious and requires ICU observation. Please arrange hospitalization immediately, with a prepayment of at least fifty thousand." Fifty thousand weighed like a boulder on my chest; I only had a few thousand left in savings. I called Mark Collins again, but the call was immediately declined. I gritted my teeth and walked to the doctor's office, my voice meek: "Doctor, could you please start the treatment first? I'll gather the fees as soon as possible; my husband is rushing over to make the payment." "The hospital regulations require advance payment for critical cases before admission to the ICU." The doctor sighed. "I understand the rules, but I truly can't pay right now. Please, just a one-day leniency—I promise to have the full payment by tomorrow noon!" I pleaded, my eyes red-rimmed. The doctor hesitated for a moment: "I'll apply for a payment delay for you, but you must pay in full by tomorrow noon, or the treatment will be affected." "Thank you, Doctor!" I said hurriedly, bowing. Seeing Caleb tangled in tubes in the ICU, my heart felt like it was being sliced open. Sitting on the bench outside, I repeatedly called Mark Collins, but no one answered. That evening, a bank notification appeared on my phone—Mark Collins's supplementary card was charged 8,888 at a high-end Parent-Child Restaurant in the city center. I stared at the message, a cold shiver running down my spine. I reviewed his recent expenditures—mostly maternity shops, playgrounds, and jewelry stores—places he had never taken Caleb to before.