Chapter 2

I spent every cent I had on medicine.

Carrying a big bag of it out of there, I felt a little steadier. Nobody was going to stop me from choosing to live.

The age of big data really is terrifying. I hadn't even reached the hospital doors before I'd already gotten calls from several banks, asking whether I wanted to apply for a high-limit credit card.

Turn down a gift like that? Not a chance. I said yes to every single one.

With money in hand, I didn't have to cram myself onto a bus anymore. I just took a cab home to grab the marriage certificate, the household records, and the property deed.

I'd always been the one keeping those documents. My name wasn't on the deed, but the bank said it didn't matter, that it wouldn't affect the limit I qualified for.

All afternoon I opened credit cards at two banks, each with a high limit, five hundred thousand between them.

That five hundred thousand was, quite literally, the money that would save my life.

Terrified that scumbag Isaac would catch wind of it, I moved the whole five hundred thousand straight into the hospital account.

For a while, the will to stay alive drowned out everything else.

Good thing I hadn't blown up and demanded a divorce earlier. No house, no car, no social security to my name now, I wouldn't have qualified for a card with even a ten-thousand limit.

Points to me again for thinking ahead.

That evening I cooked a whole table of good food, ready to celebrate properly with my daughter.

My thin little girl ate with real relish, praising every bite.

"Mommy, I'm so happy tonight. I wish it could be like this every day!"

"Did Daddy make money again? Is that why we get to eat this good? Should we wait for Daddy to come home and eat together?"

Listening to that sweet childish talk, I nearly broke down and cried.

What kind of life had I given this child all these years, that one decent meal could make her this happy?

Isaac really deserved to rot. Day in and day out he cried poverty in front of me, blaming the economy, handing over only three thousand a month for household expenses.

I made allowances for how hard things were for him, stretching every single dollar until it screamed.

But once the utilities were paid each month, there was still food and everything else to buy, and most weeks we only had meat once.

I'd raised my daughter thin and small. Just thinking about it made the tears fall.

Gently I wiped the corner of her mouth, and I told her, earnest and certain.

"Coco Abbott, from now on we're going to eat like this every single day, okay? Milk, fruit, cake. Anything Coco wants, Mommy will buy it for you."

"And new dresses, new shoes, a new backpack. We'll dress Coco up like the prettiest little princess."

My daughter forgot all about her food and spun in happy circles right where she stood.

"Coco gets new clothes! Yay!"

I quietly wiped the tears from the corner of my eye. I was about to pull her into my arms when I heard the door open.

Her scumbag of a father was home from work, and Coco rushed at him, delighted.

"Daddy! You're home! Did you make lots of money again—"

Before she could finish, Isaac shoved her away, face cold, and cut her off sharply.

"Coco, who taught you to say that? Did your mother tell you to ask me for money?"

"How many times have I told you? The economy's bad right now, money's hard to earn. Can't you two just settle down!"

"To save money I've been eating in the company cafeteria, and the two of you need four dishes on the table?"

"Honey, I'm not just saying this to be mean. You've got money to burn, that's your problem. What did you go running to a hospital for? You almost let some doctor con you. Starting next month the allowance drops to two thousand, so you'll stop throwing money away!"

His sudden shouting sent our daughter stumbling back several steps, tears swimming in her eyes, too afraid to cry out loud.

Heart breaking, I pulled her into my arms, raised my hand, and slapped Isaac hard across the face.