something inside my chest tighten.
“I already made sure he has the best care available,” I said.
She fell silent.
Because of course I had.
Even after everything—
I still handled the damage they created.
“Why?” she asked.
That question nearly made me pull the car over.
Not because I didn’t have an answer.
Because I had too many.
Because despite every cruel word, every dismissal, every wound they left in places no one else could see—
some broken part of me had spent my entire life hoping they would become a family worth saving.
Because I knew what it felt like to be abandoned.
Because becoming rich had never made me cruel.
Only honest.
“Because I refuse to become like you,” I said.
Then I ended the call.
The penthouse overlooking the bay had floor-to-ceiling glass and enough empty space to fit their entire house inside its living room.
