"You claim to care so much about Nora, yet I can count on one hand how many times you've visited her in the hospital."
I let the words hang. "Could it be you're more interested in getting your hands on that money?"
Silence. Then outrage, hot and defensive.
"You're being completely unreasonable! You don't even care about your own daughter—you don't deserve to be her mother!"
In my previous life, he had used those exact words to guilt me into trading my life for cash.
Not this time.
"Whether I deserve to be her mother," I said, my voice cold and level, "is not for you to judge."
"As for the money—I'll handle it. Don't trouble yourself."
I hung up before he could respond.
Let's see you try to steal my daughter's lifeline without your black magic, Elijah.
I found a deserted corner and scratched off every ticket in the stack.
One of them hit fifty million dollars.
I didn't rush to claim the prize. Instead, I went back to the hospital to check on my daughter.
When I entered the room, Nora was awake.
She lay in her bed, so small, so fragile. Her skin was flushed an unnatural red across every visible inch of her body.