Chapter 4
"Yeah," I replied.
"Do you need money?" my father asked.
"No," I said.
"Alright then," he said, giving my shoulder a gentle pat. "You've got your mom and me."
My eyes grew hot.
That was my dad. He didn't say much, but every word made me feel safe.
After dinner, my mom was in the kitchen doing the dishes, while my dad sat in a chair in the garden, slowly enjoying his coffee.
My phone buzzed.
It was an unknown local number.
I picked up.
The voice on the other end was one I knew well but hadn't said a complete sentence to me in a long time. "Annie, where are you?"
It was Randal.
"Mr. Morales," I said.
My voice was flat.
"The agreement's over. I don't have to tell you where I am anymore," I said.
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"I didn't send that email," he said.
"I know," I replied.
He obviously didn't see that coming.
"You know?" he asked.
"Your emails never end with a period. That one had a period," I said, leaning against the garden doorframe, my tone as casual as if we were talking about the weather.
I continued, "But it doesn't matter. The money's in, the papers are signed, and it's all over."
"The agreement doesn't have my signature, just the law firm's stamp. Legally—" he started.
"So what are you going to do? Try to take back the 21 million dollars?" I cut him off.
He didn't answer.
"Just don't try to take it back, and we're good," I said. "Mr. Morales, don't waste your time. Your surgery calendar's already jam-packed."
"Annie," he said.
"What?" I said.
"You bought the meds," he said.
I didn't expect him to bring that up.
Two seconds passed in silence.
"Picked them up at the pharmacy, twelve bucks a bottle. You really should go easy on the coffee. Your stomach can't handle it," I said.
He didn't say anything for a while.
I waited a few seconds.
"If that's all, I'm hanging up," I said.
I hung up and blocked him.
As I set my phone down, my mom peeked out from the kitchen, holding an onion.
She asked, "Who was it?"
"Randal," I said.
"Oh." She placed the onion onto the cutting board. "Want a midnight snack? I'll make some oatmeal for you."
No remarks, no follow-up.
A bowl of oatmeal said everything.
*****
Three days later, at Morales Medical Center, Randal didn't hold a press conference or make a big scene.
He did only one thing.
At the weekly department meeting, all thirty-seven people were in the conference room. Randal stood up front, spent twenty minutes discussing cases, then finished with an announcement.
He said, "One last thing. Someone recently used my office account to send fake emails, pretending to be me and communicating with family members, which caused serious consequences.
"After investigation, the culprit is Cassidy Perry from cardiology. All evidence has been handed over to the hospital disciplinary committee.
"I know my personal stuff shouldn't take up department time, but I want everyone here to know a fact: ending the agreement with Annie wasn't my call."
That was it.
No theatrics, no drama.
He closed his notebook and said, "Meeting's over."
Everyone was dead silent.
As soon as Randal walked out, the whole floor erupted in gossip.
So how did the rumor get out?
It hit the neurosurgery nurses' group chat, then the hospital gossip thread, then the cafeteria staff and the pharma reps. Before long, it was all over the three hospitals next door.
In less than twenty-four hours, everyone in the medical world knew.
Randal from Morales Medical Center had his wife taken away by someone impersonating him.
Things were worse for Cassidy.
Overnight, the looks her colleagues in cardiology gave her totally shifted.
She used to be "the perfect match for Randal," but now she was "the sneaky bitch who messed with someone's computer and pulled shady moves."
Her name got yanked from the joint research project, and her annual conference talk got reassigned.
When she walked down the hall, colleagues who used to greet her now looked away.
She became a laughingstock.
But I didn't know any of it.
I was at home, putting up wallpaper in the babies' room.
My mom directed from below. "A little lower on the left. No, that's too low. Go up a bit. This color isn't good. Use that pale yellow one."
My dad was in the living room watching TV, and now and then he'd yell out, "Let your mom take it easy. She just put a medicated patch on her back."
Life felt just like when I was a kid.
It was lively, noisy, and full of warmth.
I had almost forgotten that a month ago, I was still the invisible woman at the Morales' residence, ignored by everyone.
Until Eloise showed up at my door.
That morning, I was out in the yard, watering the flowers.
The doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Eloise was standing there in a dark suit, her face looking even gloomier than a funeral portrait. Callie was right behind her, arms crossed.
"Annie, the children you're carrying are the Morales family's blood. Grab your stuff. You're coming home with us," Eloise said.
Her opening line was straightforward and harsh, just like her.
Before I could say a word, my mom came out of the house.
She was wearing an apron, her hands dusted with flour.
"Who are you? Yelling at my door this early?" my mom said.
Eloise gave Mom a once-over.
"Are you Annie's mother? I'm Randal's mom. We need to talk about the baby," Eloise said.
"Talk about what?" My mom wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the doorframe.
She continued, "Now you care about my daughter just because she's pregnant? She lived with you for a whole year. Did you ever invite her to a single meal?"
"That's not the same thing—" Eloise started.
"No, it is. When she was living with you, you called her 'the one from the matchmaking service.' Now that she's pregnant, you show up here pretending to be family?" my mom shot back.
Eloise's face darkened.
Callie couldn't hold back anymore. "Hey, do you even know who the Morales family is—"
"No, and I don't care." My mom cut her off.
My dad came out of the house.
His back was bad, so he moved slowly, but once he reached the doorway, he stood straight.
He gave Eloise a glance, ignored her completely, then turned to me.
"Annie, go back inside. It's windy out here," he said.
"Dad, I'm fine," I replied.
"Go inside, Annie," my dad repeated.