Chapter 3
Seventy thousand dollars.
I said the number aloud until it sounded real.
Daniel sat beside me on the couch with his phone in his hands.
“The platform says that’s the total received,” he said. “My attorney requested the payout records. We don’t have them yet.”
I thought of every payment notice in his desk. Every morning he left before sunrise. Every time I apologized for needing medicine.
“Did your mother know the total?”
“I don’t know.”
“She ran the fundraiser.”
“Owen controlled the account.”
I stood.
“Then I want to hear it from both of them.”
“We will. With the lawyer.”
I looked at his exhausted face.
“How many nights have you slept?”
“Enough.”
“Daniel.”
“Four hours last night.”
“And before that?”
He looked away.
The doctor had warned me against pushing myself too hard during recovery. No one had warned Daniel. He had worked until his hands shook and called it protecting me.
“I’m going to Rachel’s,” I said.
“We can both go.”
“After you eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You made me keep taking care of myself. I’m asking you to do the same.”
He gave a tired, surprised smile.
“I guess I earned that.”
I warmed soup while he called his manager to take the next day off. He argued until I took the phone and told the man Daniel had a family emergency.
His manager said, “Tell him we’ll cover his shift.”
Daniel looked embarrassed when I hung up.
“They know I’ve been doing too much,” he admitted.
“They sound willing to help.”
“I didn’t want to ask.”
I set the soup in front of him.
“I know.”
At Rachel’s house, Lily ran to us in mismatched socks. She wrapped her arms around my waist, then pulled back.
“Are you sick again?”
“No, baby. I’m tired, but my treatment is helping.”
“You’re staying here?”
“Tonight, yes.”
She looked at Daniel.
“Uncle Owen called Aunt Rachel. He asked if I was here.”
Rachel appeared in the doorway behind her.
“I didn’t answer him,” she said. “He left a message.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
Rachel sent Lily to finish a drawing in the dining room. Then she played Owen’s voicemail.
“Tell Daniel this doesn’t have to turn into a public mess. Mom is already upset. Have Emma call me.”
I held out my hand for the phone.
“Why does he want me?”
“He thinks you’ll stop me,” Daniel said.
“He doesn’t know me very well.”
Rachel looked from him to me.
“He knows Daniel has been trying to carry this alone. He probably thinks you don’t have the strength for a fight.”
I had believed that myself some days.
My body had changed. I rested more. My hair was only beginning to grow back. But I was standing in Rachel’s kitchen with my daughter in the next room, and I understood exactly what I wanted.
“Let him keep underestimating me.”
Rachel put a plate of food before Daniel and made him sit.
After Lily was asleep, I called the attorney with him.
Her name was Priya Shah. She had requested the platform records and asked Diane and Owen to preserve all documents connected to the fundraiser.
“I want you both to write down what you remember,” Priya said. “Dates, conversations, gifts people mentioned. Don’t guess. If you aren’t sure, say so.”
“What if they used the money?” I asked.
“First we establish where it went. Then we decide the next step.”
Daniel described the warehouse donation.
I told her about Diane’s claim that hardly anyone contributed.
Priya asked whether I had ever authorized Owen to spend the money on my behalf.
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Good. Send me any messages where they discussed how funds would be used.”
I found a text from Diane dated five months earlier.
People are giving because they love you. Let me handle the details so you can focus on healing.
Priya asked me to send it.
When we ended the call, Rachel held out an envelope.
“This arrived last week,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”
Inside was a letter from our church. It thanked Diane and Owen for administering the relief fund and listed several families who had contributed.
At the bottom was a sentence that made me sit down.
As agreed, your family’s remaining balance of $18,400 will be paid directly to the hospital this month.
“The hospital hasn’t received it,” Daniel said.
“No,” I whispered.
Rachel had another page.
It was a copy of a check she had written herself.
May you like
Payable to: Emma Hayes Medical Relief.
On the back, the deposit stamp showed an account in Owen’s company name.
