Chapter 2

I froze.

A tiny, dark doubt began to creep into my mind.

What kind of job could allow her to pull out so much cash in an instant?

But Grandma's condition didn't give me time to think.

I asked Mrs. Gable to watch the house, hired a local driver, and rushed Grandma to the county hospital that very night.

Tests, admission, medical bills.

The money my mother sent flowed out like water.

The doctor said it was severe physical exhaustion, a critical lung infection, and other complications. She needed long-term care and rest.

I stayed by Grandma's bedside, looking at her thin, pale face. Holding her hand, I whispered over and over, "Grandma, you're going to get better. Mom sent the money. We're using the best medicine..."

Grandma opened her hazy eyes weakly, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't... don't tell your mother... don't make her worry... She has it so hard..."

My tears fell onto the back of her hand.

Even at a time like this, the only person she cared about was the daughter who hadn't returned in ten years.

Grandma's condition fluctuated, and she ended up staying in the hospital for over a month.

My mother wired money several more times, each amount larger than the last.

Whenever I called to update her on Grandma's health, she would answer in a rush.

The background was always a chaotic mess of noise. She would ask a few quick questions, tell me to "use the best medicine" and "don't save on expenses," and then hang up.

She didn't even ask how my studies were going.

It was as if she believed money could solve everything.

A week before my final exams, Grandma's condition finally stabilized, and she was cleared to recover at home.

I brought her back, settled her in, and then locked myself in my room, studying like crazy.

I had to get into college.

I had to get out of this town.

I had to... find my mother myself and get some answers.

The day of my final exams, the weather was beautiful.

Walking out of the exam room, I felt like I had just survived a brutal battle.

When I got home, Grandma was in high spirits and had made me a bowl of pasta.

"My Chloe is definitely going to pass," she smiled, her wrinkles blooming like warm autumn flowers.

As I ate the pasta, my heart felt both sweet and incredibly heavy.

When it came time to submit my college choices, I didn't hesitate.

Every single college I applied to was in the city my mother’s money orders came from—New York.

Based on the blurry address on the wire receipts, that massive, unfamiliar metropolis was my only lead.

When the acceptance letters came, I got a full scholarship offer from a top university in New York.

Grandma laughed and cried at the same time, clutching my hands. "Good, good... You'll finally get to see your mother... Tell her not to work so hard. Tell her we are doing just fine at home..."

I hugged the acceptance letter, a storm of emotions raging inside me.

The night before I left for New York, I was packing my bags.

Grandma fumbled around and pulled out a thick cloth pouch. She unwrapped it layer by layer to reveal a stack of crumpled bills—mostly fives, ones, and a handful of quarters.

"Take this. The city is expensive... Don't starve yourself..."

She shoved the money into my hand. It was warm with the heat of her palm.

I knew this was money she had saved dollar by dollar, quarter by quarter.

It felt a thousand times heavier than the massive transfers my mother had sent.

My nose stung. I tried to push it back. "Grandma, I have money. Mom sent plenty..."

"That's your mother’s hard-earned money. It’s different... This is from me..." she insisted, her thin, frail hand surprisingly strong.

In the end, I took the pouch, but I secretly slid it back under her pillow before I left.

The next day, I boarded the Greyhound bus to New York.

I watched the farmlands, small towns, and mountains fade away outside the window. I was moving further from the only home I knew, and closer to the mother who lived in a web of lies.

I was excited, but I was also terrified.

Excited to see her.

Terrified that she wouldn’t be the mother I had imagined.

New York was massive and overwhelming.

The towering skyscrapers and endless traffic made my head spin.

Following the blurry address on the wire receipts, I eventually found an old, gritty industrial area.

The address pointed to a run-down walk-up apartment building.

The stairwell was dark, cluttered with trash, and smelled heavily of mold.

I knocked on the rusted iron door.

My heart was pounding against my ribs.

The door creaked open.