Chapter 3

He carried Sienna away toward her room.

"Tell Finn to wait for me. I’ll perform the surgery myself. He’ll be fine."

"Once this is settled I’ll spend real time with both of you."

I thought about Finn over those two years — how he would always smile through the pain to reassure me.

"Mom, don’t worry. Dad is the best cardiac surgeon there is. He’s going to fix me."

He trusted Landon completely. And Landon never came.

I doubled over and vomited blood. It tasted like everything.

I bought a handful of painkillers at a pharmacy, finished Finn’s paperwork, and scraped together enough for the burial plot deposit.

The day the balance came due, my card was declined again.

I ran it three times. "Please — try once more. This can’t be right. I just put money in."

The attendant only shook his head.

I opened my banking app. The balance read zero. The screen felt like a blade.

I called Landon immediately.

"Landon. If you need money for Sienna’s treatment, use your own. Give mine back."

"My money is all tied up in research. When the grant posts, you’ll get it back. After the way you went after Sienna yesterday and put her back in the hospital, you have a lot of nerve asking for anything."

My eyes burned.

"Give me back what’s mine."

"Landon, you took that money. Doesn’t that keep you up at night?"

"You want to talk about money? Your old boss has been calling me. He said there was a temporary shift he offered you that you turned down. He wanted me to talk you into taking it. I was going to tell you no. I didn’t want you overworking yourself."

"But since you’re this desperate — why did you say no?"

I went cold. The fight club manager had contacted him.

Everything inside me lurched.

"Landon. If I go back to that job, it will kill me."

I had never told him what I actually did. I’d let him believe it was a second shift somewhere, anything but the truth.

What I couldn’t understand was how he could pour himself into caring for someone else’s life and feel nothing for ours.

"Please. I’m begging you. I can’t go back. Give me back the money."

A long pause. Then, begrudgingly: "Fine. I’ll transfer it."

I hung up with something close to relief. Maybe Finn could have his burial plot.

I waited all day. Into the evening. Nothing came.

Instead, the fight club manager texted.

"Where are you? Your husband said you agreed to come back. He already collected 30% from tonight’s client. If you don’t show, that’s on you — and I will make it on you."

The hospital’s automated system also started pinging.

"Ms. Calloway, the morgue has holding limits. Please complete your son’s arrangements as soon as possible."

The sky outside burned red.

I dialed the fight club manager.

"I’ll be there."

I asked how much I’d clear after the client’s deposit was deducted.

He gave me a number. It wasn’t enough for the double plot. It was only enough for a single.

I pulled the corner of my mouth up.

Then I’d use what was left of this body to buy Finn the ground he deserved.