He Bought Me For Fifty Dollars

My mother was trapped in the center of a horrific multi-car pileup on the interstate, her body crushed beneath twisted metal, hovering between life and death.

In a blind panic, I immediately called my husband, Derek, the chief of surgery at the city's top hospital.

He refused to help, his voice dripping with cold indifference.

"We agreed to go fifty-fifty when we got married. Your parents are your responsibility."

"If you couldn't handle the prenuptial agreement, you shouldn't have signed it."

Desperate, I turned to my best friend, Christine, a prominent cardiologist at the same hospital.