Chapter 4

My mom walked out of the kitchen holding a freshly cut fruit platter.

She had heard everything, but she didn’t utter a single word of complaint.

Instead, she walked quietly over to the coffee table, looking at the shiny watches, then at the empty bank book.

"Richard... that money was for my hospital deposit," she said softly, her voice carrying a trace of a plea.

Richard slammed his coffee mug onto the table.

"What deposit? You’re just looking for a way to burn cash! Let me tell you something, Eleanor. Amber’s family is coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Go prep the lobsters in the fridge. And stop looking like you’re on your deathbed. It’s bad luck!"

My mom didn't move.

She stood there, her shoulders slumped, staring at the watches.

Tyler walked over, grabbed a piece of melon, and shoved it into his mouth.

"Yeah, Mom, stop making a scene. It’s just one dinner. You’ve been cooking dinner your whole life.”

“Is doing it tonight really going to kill you? Go prep the food. Amber wants the lobster prepared perfectly."

I looked at the three of them.

One thought his wife's illness was "bad luck." One thought his mother's labor was his birthright.

And another was on the other end of the phone, watching from a safe distance, cutting off our last lifeline.

None of them believed she would actually die.

Because to them, she wasn't a human being. She was an appliance—one that didn't complain, and as long as it wasn't completely broken, it had to keep running.

I didn't stop my mom.

I knew I couldn't.

Thirty years of conditioning had taught her to please this family through labor. She probably still believed that if she cooked a perfect meal, Richard might feel guilty enough to give her the money back.

Instead, I walked into her bedroom.

I searched her vanity drawer and found the deed to the house.

It clearly bore two names: Richard and Eleanor.

They had bought this house twenty years ago with the savings from their small grocery business.

Now, Richard was planning to sign it over to Tyler as a "wedding gift."

I folded the deed, put it next to my mom's cancer diagnosis, and shoved them both into my coat pocket.

At six in the evening, the doorbell rang.

Tyler quickly smoothed his suit jacket and ran to open the door.

Amber and her parents walked in, carrying a cheap bottle of wine.

Richard greeted them with a beaming smile, taking their coats and ushering them to the sofa.

"Welcome, please, sit! Tyler, get some drinks for your future in-laws."

Mrs. Sterling sat down on the sofa, her eyes immediately locking onto the Rolex on Tyler’s wrist.

"Oh, Tyler, you got the watch! It looks wonderful on you. A man needs a proper timepiece to show his status in the business world."

Tyler proudly rotated his wrist. "My dad paid cash for it yesterday. Didn't even hesitate."

Mrs. Sterling smiled warmly, turning to Richard. "You are incredibly generous. So, about the deed to the house..."

"We'll transfer it to Tyler's name tomorrow!" Richard boomed, patting his chest. "He’s my only son. Everything I have goes to him. This neighborhood is booming.”

“Once we transfer the deed, you guys can start remodeling next month. It will be a perfect starter home for them!"

I stood by the hallway, watching them joyfully plan how to demolish and rebuild the house.

The kitchen door opened.

My mom emerged, carrying a platter of steamed lobsters.

Her face was even paler than it had been this morning, her lips tinged with blue.

The fabric near her chest was damp, stained with a faint pink hue.

Her biopsy wound had reopened, her sweat mixing with the blood.

She bent down, carefully placing the platter on the table.

Mrs. Sterling didn't even look at her, continuing her conversation with Richard.

"Since you're giving Tyler the house, where will you two live? Amber is very particular about her space. Having in-laws around can be... complicated."

Richard poured more wine without missing a beat.

"Oh, we’ll rent a small studio nearby. Don't worry.”

“Once Amber has a baby, Eleanor will come over every morning to clean, cook, and watch the baby, and go back to the studio at night. We won't get in your way!"

Mrs. Sterling finally looked satisfied, taking a sip of her wine.

"But will her health permit that? Taking care of a newborn is hard work."