Chapter 3

In that moment, all the years I'd poured into this family suddenly felt like a joke.

While the bitterness was still swelling in my chest, my daughter, who'd been playing with her blocks on the balcony, ran up to me and snapped:

"Daddy's bad. I hate Daddy!"

I looked down at her puffed-up little face, and something clenched hard around my heart.

All these years, Maura had been either at work or busy treating people to dinner. She'd given our daughter almost no care, almost no attention.

Her parents were in poor health and no help at all.

It was me who'd been both father and mother, who'd raised her.

And now this child I'd raised with my own hands was calling me bad, telling me she hated me.

I drew a deep breath and crouched down.

"Nora, how did I become a bad daddy?"

She planted her hands on her hips and pointed at me, indignant.

"Everyone at my school, the teachers and the kids, they all say I have a generous, wonderful mommy. You won't let Mommy treat people, so you're the bad one!"

"You bad daddy, I hate you. I never want to see you again!"

Then she spun around and ran to Maura, hugging her tight, refusing to look at me even once.

A flicker of triumph crossed Maura's eyes.

She straightened up and looked at me, smug.

"See that? Even our own daughter knows this is your fault."

"You really ought to take a good, hard look at yourself. Stop eyeing what's in other people's pockets all day, scheming over it. You've got no vision at all. It's embarrassing."

Watching the four of them close ranks against me, I stopped arguing. I only asked Maura one last time:

"Are you sure you won't put in even a little of your salary to cover what this family needs?"

Her mother's insulin was already gone.

Her father's heart medication was down to the bottom of the bottle.

And our daughter's tuition had been put off day after day.

The money in my account was completely wiped out.

This family desperately needed cash just to stay afloat.

At my question, clear disgust surfaced in Maura's eyes.

"After everything that's been said, you're still thinking about my money?"

"Fine. Today I'll kill that hope of yours for good."

With that, she pulled out her phone in front of the whole family and tapped away at it.

Then she turned the screen toward me.

And announced from on high:

"See this? I've already loaded every cent on my card onto the hotel's membership account."

"And I've linked my salary card to the hotel membership card too. From now on, the moment my pay comes in, it transfers straight to the hotel card automatically. Can't be changed for a year, and once the money's in there, none of it can be refunded."

"So don't you ever dream about my salary again."

At that, her mother was the first to clap and cheer. "Maura, that's my girl!"

"Now when we treat people, it'll only be at five-star hotels. Nothing but class."

Her father nodded again and again, giving a proud thumbs-up.

"Well done. You really do the Pruitt name proud."

"Not like some people, fallen so deep into the money hole all they can think about is money, money, money. That kind of person has no vision, and they'll never amount to anything."

Our daughter clapped along too. "Mommy's so great and so generous!"

"I love Mommy best!"

The whole family, all in perfect harmony, everyone delighted.

And the way they looked at me, it was like looking at some villain who didn't belong.

Watching all those eyes full of contempt, I found the whole thing absurd.

All these years, Maura had done nothing for this family.

Yet she'd become the great hero, the wonderful one, in everyone's eyes.

And I, who'd emptied everything for this family, had become the family's enemy instead.

If that was how it was, then what was I still struggling for?

I nodded, and said calmly:

"You're all right. Generosity is a good thing. I hope she stays this generous forever."