Chapter 4

I stood there and watched. Carol had her eyes shut, face pale and lips trembling, but I caught her cracking one eye open to sneak a look at me. There was smugness in that glance.

In the past, I would have rushed over crying and admitted my mistake. This time, I didn't move.

"Grace," I said, "call 911. "

Grace froze, "Call 911? Mrs Lancaster, Madam is..."

"If her heart can't take it, then she needs a hospital. They can check her properly, give her medicine, or admit her if needed. If something really happens, I'm not taking the blame."

The moment Carol heard "911," her eyes opened a little wider. "No need... no need to call an ambulance... I'll be fine if I rest..."

I walked over and crouched in front of her. "Carol, if your heart hurts, don't tough it out.

"What if something happens and people say I upset you into it? Let's go to the hospital, get a full checkup, and spend whatever needs spending. Your health comes first."

My voice was gentler than it had been at any point in the last two years, and Carol could only open her mouth and stare at me.

From the side, James watched me differently. He didn't know whether his mother was faking, but I did. Because I saw her secretly pinch her own thigh to make herself look worse.

I still didn't expose her. I stood up and said again, "Call 911."

Grace glanced at James. He nodded, and she picked up the phone and dialed. This time Carol's face really went white, not because of her heart, but because she hadn't expected me to actually call an ambulance.

Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Two EMTs came in with a stretcher.

Carol lay on the couch with her eyes closed, looking half-dead.

"What's wrong with the patient?" the doctor asked.

"My heart's bothering me," I said. "Probably from being angry."

But after checking her pulse and blood pressure, one of them frowned and said everything seemed normal, though she should still come in for tests.

They lifted Carol onto the stretcher and carried her out. George followed behind them, muttering, "How did this happen?"

James walked up to me and looked me in the eye. "Happy now?"

"Happy about what?" I said. "She's the one who said she didn't feel well. I helped her call an ambulance. Wasn't that nice enough?"

He stared at me for three seconds. "Emily, you've changed."

"Yeah," I said. "I've changed. Whether that's for better or worse, you can judge for yourself." Then he turned and followed the stretcher out.

I heard the ambulance doors slam shut, then the siren rise and fade away. Grace stood in the living room staring at me, completely at a loss. I went back to the couch, sat down, picked up the remote, and kept watching TV.

"Mrs. Lancaster," Grace asked softly, "aren't you going to the hospital too?"

"Nope," I said. "I'm not a doctor. Me being there won't help."

"But Madam..."

"She's fine," I said. "Grace, how many years have you worked for the Lancaster family?"

"Eight years," Grace stunned for a moment.

"Eight years," I repeated. "Then you should know better than I do what kind of shape Madam is really in."

Grace fell silent. I flipped channels until I found a variety show. People on it were laughing, and I laughed with them, even as Grace looked at me like she was wondering whether I'd truly gone insane.

I hadn't. I merely didn't want to keep pretending anymore.

About half an hour later, I heard footsteps at the door. James was back. He changed into slippers, walked into the living room, and sat at the far end of the couch. "How's your mom?" I asked.

"Doctor said she's fine," he replied. "They did an EKG. Everything came back normal. They're keeping her overnight for observation. She can come home tomorrow."

"That's good," I said. "Bet that cost a lot, huh?"

He ignored the question and turned to me. "Emily, what exactly are you trying to do?"

"I'm not trying to do anything," I said, eyes on the TV. "I want to live properly."

"You call this living properly?"

"What's wrong with the way I'm living?" I turned to face him. "Was the past me really living properly? Getting up before dawn, working like a dog, taking your mother's abuse and your neglect without complaint? That's not living. That's suffering."

He did not speak anything.

"I don't want to suffer anymore." I said, "If you can't handle me being a person, then divorce me, but pay me first. I'm not leaving empty-handed."

"How much do you want?"

"I already told you. Thirty-five million dollars."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Keep dreaming."

"Then stop wasting my time," I said, turning back to the TV. "I'm tired."

I stood up and headed upstairs. When I got to the stairs, he spoke again. "Emily." I stopped.

"You weren't like this before." he said.

"Before, I was an idiot. Now the idiot's awake." Then I went upstairs, entered the bedroom, and shut the door.

This was the room I'd lived in for two years. The bed was huge, the curtains beige, and our wedding photo sat on the nightstand. In it, he stood beside me without smiling, while my own smile looked awful.

I looked at it for three seconds, then shoved it into a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

I changed into pajamas, lay down on the bed, and closed my eyes. I could hear the TV downstairs and James's footsteps moving around, but I didn't care what he was doing. Starting today, I wasn't living for him anymore.

My phone buzzed again. Olivia sent: [Em. I heard Carol ended up in the hospital. Was that your doing?]

I texted back: [Yep.]

She bombarded me with laughing messages, then sent another: [You're amazing. I'll come by tomorrow and bring something good.]

I replied: [Okay.]

I rolled over and looked at the moon outside the window. It was round and bright. For the first time in two years, the moonlight felt warm.

I had no idea what Carol would do tomorrow, but no matter what happened, I wasn't backing down. This time, I meant it.