Chapter 2
Cash lay scattered across the table.
Alex stared down at me, his tone dripping with condescension. "A few hundred bucks should be enough for a new frame. Now pack up your things and get out, before you upset Emily."
My eyes drifted to the money, then I crouched down, carefully gathering the shards of glass littering the floor.
A sharp edge sliced into my finger. A bead of blood welled up, falling onto the photograph beneath the broken glass.
Without pausing, I wiped it away with my sleeve, folded the picture carefully, and tucked it into my pocket. The shattered frame and glass went into the trash.
Leaving the cash untouched, I picked up my backpack containing my documents and headed for the door.
My quiet compliance clearly caught Alex off guard.
He stepped forward, blocking the exit.
"What's your problem, Mia? This whole family puts up with your tantrums. Do you really have to make everyone miserable? Mom wants you at the villa for dinner tonight. Don't you dare disrespect her," he demanded, scowling.
Meeting his gaze, I said, my voice flat, "I'm not going."
His expression shifted from confusion to a dismissive snort as he finally moved aside.
Outside, I walked past the old neighborhood gates to the main street.
A black sedan idled at the curb. Jack leaned against it, smoking.
Spotting me, he tossed the cigarette and ground it under his heel, striding over. His hand shot out to grab my wrist.
But I sidestepped, avoiding his touch.
His face darkened, irritation flashing in his eyes.
He asked, his tone stern, "How long are you going to keep this up? Emily cried half the night because you didn't show up yesterday. She skipped dinner, blaming herself.
"You're coming back with me right now to apologize to her and to your mom. Then we can forget this whole mess."
I studied his familiar features, the face I once knew so well.
A memory surfaced, sharp and cold. It was the fifth time I had been forgotten. I'd waited for Jack at the bus station in sub-zero temperatures until my legs went numb.
He'd been comforting Emily that night because she was afraid of thunderstorms. Twenty-three calls went unanswered.
"Jack, we're done," I said.
He stood frozen for a second before his brows knitted tighter. "Seriously, Mia? We're back to this? Every single time I pay attention to Emily, you pull the breakup card."
A cold laugh escaped him. "Fine. Have it your way." He yanked the car door open. "Walk away now, and don't expect me to come chasing after you."
He slammed the door, revved the engine, and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust that coated my skin and clothes.
A familiar warmth trickled in my nose again.
Pressing a tissue to my face, I walked to the corner and hailed a cab to City General Hospital.
In the respiratory department, the attending physician flipped through my test results, his expression grave. "Mia, your heart failure is progressing at an alarming rate.
"If you don't check in for surgical intervention immediately, you won't make it through the week."
The report in his hands was a map of failure, every indicator far below acceptable levels.
The system's warning about declining vital signs had manifested by accelerating my pre-existing condition, my heart disease.
It had gone untreated years ago when Miranda used my surgery deposit for Emily's school sponsorship, missing my critical treatment window.
Picking up a pen from his desk, I signed the form refusing further treatment.
The doctor sighed softly, taking the document from me.
Exiting the consultation room, I found an empty chair in the hallway and sat down.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
It was a bank notification. A deposit of 10 thousand dollars.
Right after that, a voice message from Alex followed.
His impatient tone crackled through the speaker. "Mom heard you went to the hospital. Here's some money. Stop holding that old surgery deposit thing over her head.
"Using it for Emily's future was the right call. Your condition isn't an emergency, so just buy some medicine and drop the guilt trip."