Before Clay had even started at the hospital, when the pressure of studying was crushing him, my mom hadn't hesitated. She'd handed over every penny of her life savings so he could focus on preparing for his exams without worry.
She knew his stomach was weak, knew how grueling the hours were. No matter how busy she got, she always found time to prepare meals that were gentle on his digestion, hoping to ease even a fraction of his burden.
And this was the woman Clay called a shameless parasite who deserved to be punished. A woman who had treated him like her own son.
Something inside me went quiet. When I spoke again, my voice had lost its urgency, settling into something flat and distant.
"Clay, your mother's condition is critical. I'm telling you to get to that operating room and save her. She raised you single-handedly. The least you can do is show up."
Clay exploded.
"What is wrong with you, Dorothy? When did your mother ever raise me? No wonder Evangeline couldn't help herself. With a daughter like you, your mother had it coming!"