The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 153

I hadn't worked in this field for a long time, so whether I could achieve anything was still uncertain.

The 500 thousand dollars was transferred directly into my account. It was both an encouragement and a show of trust.

Yet, I didn't want to disappoint Hanson, so my first instinct was to return it.

Hanson chuckled and shook his head.

He said, "You're a talented creator. This amount of money is not much at all. Besides, this is just an advance payment from me. Once you complete your work, I'll pay you in full—500 thousand dollars per song."

"No, Mr. Jigman, this really is too much…" I instinctively tried to refuse, but Hanson was firm.

He smiled warmly and said, "Samuel, you deserve this money. Don't turn it down."

Under his repeated insistence, I finally accepted the payment.

As agreed before, I transferred 40 percent of it to Sophia's account.

The rest, I kept only a small portion for my living expenses, while the majority was donated to the hospital as seed funding for ongoing disease research.

After taking care of all that, I opened the materials Hanson had sent me. I locked myself in the guest room, focusing entirely on the creative process.

When I was creating, I hated being disturbed. So sometimes, I could shut myself in a room for three days and nights, skipping meals and drinking only a few sips of water, until inspiration struck.

To my relief, Abigail hadn't returned during this time. Without her interruptions, I enjoyed a rare sense of calm.

But, unfortunately, no ideas came to me, so I decided to go out for a walk.

I headed to the busiest park, found a bench, and sat down. Watching the lively, bustling crowd, I felt strangely out of place.

After coming out of the park, I felt that the air was much fresher. In the vast crowd, I thought about a lot of things, and I also had some good inspiration.

Back home, I shut myself in again, working on my composition.

Three days passed. I worked until hunger gnawed at my stomach and dizziness blurred my vision. Finally, I stepped out of the room.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of soda and took a few gulps before I felt a bit better.

I made myself a plate of pasta and ate. Only then did I notice my phone had died at some point.

I didn't know when it had powered off. But when I turned it back on, I saw over 50 missed calls from Abigail and Lana's lead surgeon.

My heart skipped a beat, fearing something had happened to Lana again. But before I could return the calls, Abigail's number lit up my screen.