Harold was satisfied with the girl's obedience, and his face softened a lot. He even curled his lips to smile faintly, "I heard that you rejected my cheque."

Brittany froze as what happened in the hospital that morning flashed across her mind. In disbelief, she sized the man up.

After quite a while, she ventured to ask, "So, you're… the relative of that patient?"

Instead of answering, he put on an arrogant face and crossed his legs. Silence spoke for him.

A depressed Brittany scolded him inwardly. What was this man proud of? She was the marrow donor to his relative. She didn't need him to shed tears of gratitude, but he should at least show their benefactor some respect.

A rude man, indeed!

Howard looked at her and stated flatly, "My brother's surgery was a success, thanks to you."

Oh? Brittany looked at him in surprise. This man teased her all night and finally spoke the human language.

"You saved my brother's life. Be it reason or emotion. I should reward you liberally. That cheque was a token of my regard." He paused. His voice turned deep, with a tinge of a threat, "However… I didn't expect that you thought nothing of my regard."

Brittany tensed up. Was it her hallucination? The more he talked, the colder she felt.

She cleared her throat and explained sincerely, "You misunderstood. It's not like that. When I donated my blood, I just wanted to contribute to society. I rejected your cheque simply because I didn't want to go against my original intention. It was not personal."

Three years ago, when she just entered college, her roommate dragged her to donate blood. The nurse told her that blood donation equaled marrow donation. Her blood would be collected in the marrow bank.

She didn't think much of it because the matching probability was tiny.

Unexpectedly, she received a call from the blood bank two months ago. She was told about the successful matching of her marrow and that of a patient in an early stage of leukemia. She was asked if she would like to donate.

The patient was a 13-year-old boy. Brittany thought of her brother, who was in high school, and agreed without hesitation.

Then her marrow was drawn in the hospital.

Who didn't like the money? A poor college student like Brittany was badly in need of money.

But in her view, once she accepted the cheque, it would be an insult to the life she took pains to save. Therefore, she rejected it.

Her faith was simple and noble. People would praise her for her virtue. In Harold's mind, however, she had a brain injury.

"Fair enough, since you're so pure and proud, I won't stop you from being a saint." Harold rested his head on his palm, tapped the armrest, and continued blandly, "In this case, you'll have to live here for the upcoming six months."

Brittany widened her eyes. Before she could decline, the man added…

"Although my brother's surgery was successful, your matching rate is barely up to par. The risk of a relapse is up to 30%."

(To be continued)