Chapter 3

Early the next morning, I called in sick to work and ran to the local bank down the street.

I handed the bank book and my mom’s ID to the teller.

The teller typed on her keyboard for a moment, then looked up at me with a sympathetic expression.

"I’m sorry, but this account is empty."

I froze. "What? That’s impossible. It says right here there should be five thousand dollars."

The teller turned the monitor toward me.

"The entire balance was withdrawn yesterday afternoon at our branch counter. The transaction was authorized by Richard."

Yesterday afternoon.

Right when I was sitting in the hospital waiting room, holding my mom's hand as she waited for her biopsy.

Clutching the useless bank book, I sprinted all the way back to the house.

When I pushed open the door, the living room was filled with a festive atmosphere.

Tyler was standing in front of the full-length mirror, trying on a brand-new, expensive tailored suit.

Richard was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, a wide grin on his face.

On the coffee table sat two elegant, velvet jewelry boxes. Inside were a pair of matching Rolex watches, gleaming under the living room lights.

I marched over to Richard and slammed the empty bank book onto the coffee table.

"Where is the money?"

Richard didn't even look up.

"What money? Your mother’s money is my money. Tyler is getting engaged today. Amber’s family insisted on luxury watches to show we have status.”

“We were short a few thousand, so I withdrew it to cover the cost."

I pointed at the watches, my hands trembling with rage.

"That was her medical fund! It was for her surgery!"

Tyler adjusted his tie in the mirror and turned around, looking annoyed.

"Chloe, stop being so dramatic. Mom just has a minor cyst. She can take some antibiotics. Why throw money away at the hospital?"

He walked over, picked up the men's Rolex, and strapped it onto his wrist.

"If I don’t wear this watch today, Amber’s mother will look down on me. The most important thing for this family right now is my wedding. Mom’s little issue can wait until after I’m married."

Staring at his smug, entitled face, I pulled out my phone and dialed Brandon’s number.

It rang five times before he picked up.

"Brandon, the wedding savings we put in your account—transfer me ten thousand dollars right now. I need to get my mom admitted to the hospital."

There was only the sound of breathing on the other end.

After a long pause, Brandon’s voice came through.

"Chloe, I told you yesterday. That money is for our house downpayment and the venue deposit. We can't touch it."

"My mom can't wait!"

"Then that is your family's problem to solve." Brandon’s tone was polite, but freezing cold.

"Chloe, your parents' financial responsibilities cannot be dumped on our future household. Go talk to your father."

I looked at Richard, who was completely indifferent on the couch, and Tyler, who was admiring his watch in the mirror.

These were the people Brandon wanted me to talk to.

"Chloe, think carefully," Brandon added, his voice dropping. "If you insist on draining our savings for this, we are over. I am not tying myself to your family's financial black hole."

With that, he hung up.

I stared at the screen, a profound sense of exhaustion washing over me.

For the first time, I realized the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was utterly cold-blooded.

If I married him, and twenty years later I got sick, what would he do?

Would he tell me to give up treatment so I wouldn't be a financial burden? Would he just wait for me to die?