Two years ago, I was diagnosed with a clotting disorder. Even a small cut could kill me. Derek held me and sobbed, swearing he'd sell a kidney if that's what it took to save me.
A year ago, he really did lose that kidney.
Everyone called him a devoted husband. I believed it too. I worked myself to the bone saving money, trying to support this family. I even took out a massive insurance policy and named him the beneficiary.
I thought that way, even if I died, he wouldn't be left with nothing.
But that basin of ice water shattered every dream I'd ever had.
"You're overacting, Alex. You think I don't know you're running an insurance scam?"
"Trying to help your deadbeat brother turn his life around? You'd really jinx yourself like that?"
His vicious sneer still echoed in my skull.
I thought back to New Year's Eve—my mother-in-law asking if I'd live to see spring, Derek smashing that medicine pot, swearing no one could take me away.
It was never devotion. He was just afraid I'd die at the wrong time and void the payout.
My phone sat on the coffee table. Less than two meters away.
But my fingers were frozen stiff. I couldn't lift them.
My vision blurred. My heartbeat slowed to something terrifying.