Chapter 4

I was going to learn how to paint and play the piano, making up for all those childhood dreams I had to put on hold because we couldn't afford them.

And there was still so much more I wanted to do.

My phone buzzed.

I picked it up and saw a WhatsApp message from Ivan.

Ivan texted: [Edith! Where are you?

[Mom had a heart attack. She's in the hospital right now, and they're trying to save her!

[The doctor says it's really serious. The medical bills are 30 thousand dollars. You need to get the money here now!

[This is all your fault! If you end up killing Mom, I'll never forgive you!]

The whole message was full of exclamation marks, dripping with blame and resentment.

As I read those lines, the smile slowly disappeared from my face.

It was the same old trick again.

Throwing a tantrum and pulling all those extreme stunts.

I had always softened and given in every single time before.

But not anymore.

I calmly typed out a reply on my phone.

I typed: [Really? Then call the police.]

Looking at the words on my screen, I felt no anger.

All I felt was a bone-deep weariness.

For twenty-six years now.

They always pulled the same old routine on me.

It was always either Mom's heart acting up, Dad's blood pressure going through the roof, or Ivan getting himself beaten up.

And every single time, I'd drop everything and rush over like an idiot, only to hand over the cash without a second thought.

My heart didn't just turn cold overnight.

After being emotionally blackmailed and manipulated so many times, my heart had already frozen solid.

I didn't bother replying to Ivan.

Instead, I stood up unhurriedly and walked into the ridiculously huge walk-in closet.

The entire rack was filled with clothes Francis had prepared for me.

I picked out the most understated black dress and changed into it.

Then I applied a subtle, refined makeup.

The woman in the mirror looked calm, with a touch of icy detachment in her eyes.

She was a far cry from the meek, perpetually anxious Edith she used to be.

I grabbed the car keys and walked into the underground garage.

Francis had left me a white Maserati.

I had only ever seen a Maserati in magazines before.

I didn't even have a driver's license.

So I ordered a ride and went straight to the Octmond Hospital.

Half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of the hospital.

I walked into the lobby, and the sharp smell of disinfectant hit me.

I went up to the front desk and asked the nurse.

I said, "Excuse me, was there a patient named Callie Martinez admitted for emergency heart treatment this afternoon?"

The nurse checked the computer and shook her head.

She said, "No, there weren't any emergency heart cases admitted to cardiology this afternoon."

A mocking smile curled at the corner of my mouth.

Just as I thought.

I asked again, "So, which room is she in?"

The nurse glanced at her screen again.

She said, "Oh, here she is. She's in internal medicine, room 302. She checked in yesterday afternoon.

"The reason for admission was indigestion."

Indigestion?

What a joke.

I thanked the nurse and turned toward the elevator.

When I got to room 302, the door was slightly ajar.

Inside, I could hear Mom shouting at full volume.

She said, "That heartless brat! Now that she thinks she's all grown up, she acts like we don't even exist.

"Ivan, call her again. Tell her I'm not going to make it and she'd better get the money over here right now.

"And you, Glen. All you do is smoke. Completely useless. Look at the kind of daughter you raised!"

Ivan's impatient voice cut in.

He said, "I called! She didn't pick up. She's not even replying to my messages.

"She's probably hooked up with some rich guy and doesn't care about us anymore."

My dad cleared his throat.

"Alright, that's enough. Edith isn't that kind of person," he said.

"Not that kind of person?" My mom's voice rose even higher. "If she really cared about us, would she just let me 'die' right here in the hospital without lifting a finger?"

I couldn't listen to another word.

I shoved the door open and walked in.

The three of them looked like statues, completely stunned.

My mom was lounging in bed, munching on a half-eaten apple.

My brother was glued to his phone, gaming away.

My dad was on the balcony smoking.

Did any of them look even a little bit like they were dying?

"Mom." My voice was dead calm, cold as ice.

I continued, "I heard you were on your deathbed with a heart attack, so I came to see for myself."

My mom's face flushed with embarrassment.

She frantically hid the apple under the covers.

"You... Why are you here?" she murmured.

Ivan sprang up from the couch, jabbing a finger at me.

He snapped, "Edith! You've got some nerve showing up. Look what you've done to Mom."

I paid him no mind and strode straight to the bed.

I looked over at the diagnosis card on the bedside table.

It was written clearly: [Acute gastroenteritis.]

In plain English? She just overate and got indigestion.

I sneered. "Heart attack, huh?"

I waved the card in front of Mom's face.

I said, "Wow, Mom, your heart must be one of a kind. Migrated all the way to your stomach?"

Her face went pale, then flushed, and she was speechless.