Chapter 3

It was ten at night by the time I reached St. Marlowe Community Hospital.

Dad sat awkwardly on the front steps, his empty pant leg fluttering in the cold wind.

I had no idea how long he had been left there.

I hurried over with his prosthetic and wrapped my coat around him.

"Where is Vanessa? Did she leave you outside?"

Dad rubbed his fingers together anxiously. "She's busy. Don't trouble her."

He carefully opened an inner pocket containing the savings of a lifetime.

"I have money. Don't worry, and don't ask Vanessa."

He pulled out the only three twenty-dollar bills inside and pressed them into my palm.

"Take it. Buy yourself something good and go home."

But was a place that had no room for my father still a home?

My eyes burned.

Dad looked at the prosthetic in my arms and murmured, "The repairman can patch it."

"Old people shouldn't burden their children."

Only a few steps away,

Vanessa was supporting Howard Foster and speaking gently.

"It doesn't matter that the SUV is totaled. I still have some savings. Dylan can help you choose another one.

"Children earn money so their parents can enjoy it."

I gripped the wrinkled bills and remembered the thirty thousand dollars Vanessa had withdrawn five days earlier for an "investment."

So that had never been an investment.

She had used money from our shared household account to support another man's father.

Dylan followed behind them with a bright smile.

"Vanessa, thank goodness you came to document the scene and used your connections to get Dad a private room. I wouldn't know what to do without you."

Her voice softened as she comforted him.

"Of course. We grew up together. Your father is family to me."

"And what is my father?" I looked directly at her. "When your parents abandoned you outside our home, he was the one who saved you."

Vanessa stopped and only then seemed to notice I had reached the hospital.

Her eyes dropped to my bleeding feet, and she frowned.

"You're worked up. I'm not going to argue with you."

She strode over and gripped my wrist.

"You don't need to worry about your father going to jail. I've already secured a written statement from Mr. Foster saying he may consider leniency. Spend the next few days caring for him. It will show that your father is taking responsibility."

"I don't need his leniency!"

I bit my lip. "You spent thirty thousand dollars replacing his car. How much did you spend on this hospital stay?"

Tears spilled from my eyes as I spoke.

"My father keeps repairing a five-thousand-dollar prosthetic because he can't bear to replace it. Vanessa, do you have a conscience at all?"

Dad opened his mouth, but when he saw my tears, he said nothing.

Vanessa gave a cold laugh. "You're being emotional again. I won't hold it against you."

"Then stop spending my money."

I went still.

When we graduated from Graymont School of Law, Vanessa had promised, "I'll support you."

I gave up the fellowship we both wanted so she could join the firm.

Over time, "I'll support you" became "I keep you."

Vanessa spoke impatiently. "I don't understand why you're angry.

"Your father caused an accident. I am helping the injured party. What exactly did I do wrong?

"You asked me to bring him to the hospital, and I did. His injuries weren't serious, so I told him to check himself in. If he chose to sit outside in the cold, what was I supposed to do?"

In her mind, Dad could not understand a traffic signal, yet somehow should have navigated hospital registration alone.

"Vanessa."

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry. Can I use the bank card?"

"Dad needs treatment."

She scoffed, tossed a card onto the floor, and pinned it beneath her shoe.

"Say that to Dylan and his father."

Dad tugged at my sleeve. "Don't... I'm fine."

How could he possibly be fine?

Dad, you were simply too accustomed to suffering quietly.

I bowed my head to Dylan. "I'm sorry. Please forgive us."

"That apology doesn't sound sincere."

Dylan lifted his chin. "I've changed my mind. I'm pressing charges against your father for leaving the scene of an accident."