Chapter 113
Yes, I definitely deserved better than that.
The next day, I visited my mother at Silver Star Hospital during my
lunch break. I’d brought her favorite pastries from Sophia’s café-
low–sugar apple turnovers that wouldn’t spike her blood sugar.
As I approached her room, I heard her voice, uncharacteristically
raised. I paused outside the door, my heart instantly pounding
against my ribs.
“I don’t have that kind of money!” she was saying, her voice trembling
with anger. “You can’t just disappear for years and then-”
A bout of coughing interrupted her words. My hand tightened on the
door handle, knuckles turning white.
“She’s your daughter too,” my mother continued, her voice weaker
now. “Your responsibility—”
My blood ran cold, a sudden wave of nausea washing over me. That
fucking bastard. There was only one person she could be talking to. I
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pushed the door open just as another coughing fit seized her. The
phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.
“Mom!” I rushed to her side, helping her sit up as she struggled to
breathe. My hands were shaking, rage and fear battling for dominance
inside me.
Her eyes widened when she saw me, a flash of guilt crossing her pale
face.
I knew immediately. “That was him, wasn’t it? Leon?”
I couldn’t bring myself to call him “dad.” Not after everything. The
word “father” had been burned out of my vocabulary years ago,
replaced with nothing but contempt.
Mother’s silence was confirmation enough. My stomach twisted with a sickening mixture of anger and dread. What the hell does he want
now?
“He called about money,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said he’s in trouble again.”
“Of fucking course he is.” I couldn’t keep the venom from my voice. I bent down to retrieve the phone, checking to see if he was still on the line. The call had ended. “Still pulling the same shit after all these
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years.”
I placed the phone on her bedside table and sat down, trying to
L
control the rage bubbling inside me.
“You didn’t agree to help him, did you?” I asked, dreading the answer.
My heart pounded with suppressed fury.
Mother shook her head. “I told him I’m in the hospital. That we don’t
have money to spare.”
“Good.” I squeezed her hand, noticing how fragile it felt. The silver
veins of her toxicity were more prominent today, spreading further up
her wrists like poison ivy. “Don’t worry about him. He’s not your
problem anymore.”
She looked at me with those sad eyes that always made my chest
ache. “He asked about you.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I said flatly, the words hard and cold. “Still being
able to make phone calls means he’s not dead. That’s all I need to
know.”
My mother didn’t argue. She knew better than to defend him to me.
Instead, she changed the subject, asking about work. I gave her vague
answers, not wanting to burden her with my problems. She’d been
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through enough.
As she slowly drifted off to sleep, I sat watching her, my mind racing.
In three days, my contract with Drake would end. I’d no longer be
under his protection. The thought sent a chill down my spine, ice-
cold fear spreading through my veins.
But what would happen when I left? Would Drake make good on his threats to cut off my mother’s medical coverage? Would I be able to find another job quickly enough to maintain her treatments?
I tucked the blanket around my mother’s sleeping form and kissed her forehead. Whatever happened, I would figure it out. I had to.
When I arrived at the office the next morning, Vera was waiting by my desk, a smug smile plastered on her face. She wore a tight black dress,
her dark curls perfectly styled.
“There you are,” she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Drake said to give you this.” She tossed a folder onto my desk. “He wants you
to handle it personally.”
I caught the file before it slid off the edge, my jaw clenching at her deliberate rudeness. “Did he say when he needs it completed?”
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Vera’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “As soon as
possible, of course. It’s important.”
I grabbed my purse and the file without another word and headed for
the elevator. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me
rattled.
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.

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