Chapter 2

The plates hit the bottom of the trash can with a loud crash, splashing sauce onto Richard’s slippers.

He bolted upright, pointing a finger at my face, screaming.

"Chloe! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?!"

Tyler slammed his phone down and stood up to back him up.

"Chloe, seriously? You have to throw a tantrum now? Amber's family is coming tomorrow to discuss the financial details. We have a million things to worry about, and you're doing this?"

I stared at them, my voice cold as ice.

"You have a million things to worry about. So that gives you the right to force a cancer patient who just had a painful biopsy to cook for you?"

Richard blinked, startled. He turned to look at my mom.

"What biopsy? I thought you just went in for a routine ultrasound?"

My mom rushed over, throwing herself between Richard and me.

"It’s nothing, Richard. Really. The doctor just wanted to take a small tissue sample. It’s no big deal."

She turned and pushed me toward the hallway, her strength surprisingly desperate.

"Chloe, go to your room. I'll handle this. Richard, I’ll make something else right away. It’ll only take a minute."

She practically forced me into my bedroom and locked the door from the outside.

The moment the door shut, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from my fiancé, Brandon.

Did your mom get her biopsy results back? Is it serious?

I leaned against the door and called him back.

When I told him it was breast cancer, there was a heavy silence on the other end of the line.

"Chloe, I'm sorry about your mom," Brandon said, his voice calm, rational, and completely detached. "But you cannot start a war with your family right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Tyler is finalizing his engagement tomorrow. Your dad is stressed trying to scrape together the money for his wedding gift.”

“If you bring up your mom's cancer now, your dad will think you're trying to steal Tyler's spotlight—and his money."

"He is her husband!" I whispered fiercely. "My mom is sick. He is legally and morally obligated to pay for her treatment!"

"Be realistic, Chloe," Brandon sighed. "Cancer is a financial black hole. Your dad’s savings are set aside for Tyler’s wedding. He will never spend that money on your mom's treatment."

"And what about us?" I asked, my heart sinking. "We have our own wedding fund."

"Exactly. We are getting married next year. We cannot touch that money. We need it for the downpayment on our house."

His logic was flawless.

Every word was calculated. Every word weighed the pros and cons.

I hung up on him.

At ten o’clock that night, I quietly slipped into my mom's room.

She was propped up against the pillows, holding a warm compress to her chest.

Seeing me walk in, she reached under her pillow, pulled out a worn, battered bank book, and pressed it into my hands.

"Chloe, there’s about five thousand dollars in here. I saved it bit by bit over the years. Is it enough for the surgery?"

I stared at the bank book.

Five thousand dollars. It wouldn't even cover the first round of chemotherapy, let alone the targeted therapy drugs.

But this was her entire life savings—money she had scraped together while acting as an unpaid maid in this house for thirty years.

I squeezed the book and nodded.

"It’s enough, Mom. Tomorrow morning, I’m taking you to the hospital to get you admitted."