Her Situation Is Getting Worse

I received my cheque from Red and immediately changed out of my shorts into a more appropriate outfit before heading to see Mom’s doctor.

“Doctor Fred, can we proceed with the surgery now?” I asked, my heart filled with hope. He sighed, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his fingers together.

“I know you’re trying your best, dear, but we can’t proceed with the surgery until you’ve paid at least 60% of the bill.”

I swallowed hard. With the money I got from the man yesterday and the cheque I had just received, I could afford the surgery—but there were other bills to take care of.

“But don’t worry, Angel. I believe you’ll manage. The money you’ve already deposited is enough to get your mother admitted and begin chemotherapy,” he added reassuringly.

I pursed my lips, staring blankly at him.

“T-that’s a good thing, right?” I asked, my voice tinged with hope.

He smiled, and nodded.

“Yes, Angel. Your mom’s illness hasn’t reached a critical stage yet, so we can begin chemotherapy while we prepare for surgery.”

Relief flooded through me. I stood up as he did, gratitude swelling in my chest.

“Thank you so much, Doctor. I’ll have her admitted by the end of the week.”

“That’s fine, dear,” he said warmly.

I thanked him again and left. At least now, there was a glimmer of hope that Mom would be okay. But I needed to work harder. Maybe I should take on another job. I had to get her surgery done as soon as possible.

As soon as I stepped into the house, my phone buzzed in my purse, making me jump. I pulled it out and saw Red’s name flashing on the screen.

My brows furrowed—why was she calling? I didn’t have a show today. I swiped to answer.

“Hey, Angel. Sorry for the sudden call, but you need to be at the club by seven sharp." She spoke urgently.

I frowned. “Why?”

“The manager wants to see you. Oh, and bring your resume along.”

"My res—”

“Okay, see you later, babe!” She cut me off and hung up before I could ask any questions.

I stared at my phone, confused. Why would the manager need my resume?

Shaking off my thoughts, I went upstairs to look for my documents. I tore through my room like a madwoman, flipping through drawers and overturning stacks of papers.

“Where the hell are they?” I groaned in frustration.

“Angel, sweetie?”

I turned to find Mom standing at the door with a gentle smile. I forced one back, not wanting her to worry.

“Hey, Mom. Why aren’t you asleep?”

She sighed, folding her arms.

“Give me a break, sweetie. I’ve been in bed all day, and now my eyes hurt.”

I chuckled, and shook my head in amusement.

"Mom, your eyes hurt when you don’t sleep, not when you do.”

She rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. “I don’t care about that. What are you looking for? You seem worried.”

“It’s nothing, Mom,” I said quickly.

“Angel,” she warned, her voice firm.

I sighed. “Alright… I’m looking for my documents. I can’t remember where I—”

"They’re with me, honey.”

Relief washed over me, and I sighed. “Oh my God, Mom! You’re my savior!” I crushed her in a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Come on, let’s go get them. But, Angel, what do you need them for?”

I hesitated, searching for the perfect lie.

“Uh… actually, I’m looking for a better job,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

Her brows furrowed. “Why? What’s wrong with the one you have?”

I shrugged and turned away, not wanting her to see through me.

“I just think it’s not paying enough, and you know how much we need money for your treatment.”

She took my hands, sighing deeply.

“Sweetie, you need to stop overworking yourself. What you’re earning is fair enough.”

I bit my lip. The problem isn’t the money, Mom. It’s the job. If she ever found out what I really did, she’d be ashamed of me. And now, Luca was getting into fights because of it. I couldn’t let them be insulted because of my choices. I had to find a real job.

“Mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I reassured her.

She sighed in defeat, though I could see the concern still lingering in her eyes.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch, then I’ll give you the documents.” I nodded, following her to the kitchen.

---

Later that night, I stayed up scrolling through my phone, searching for job openings. My stomach grumbled, and I let out a yawn, stretching my stiff limbs. Tossing off the duvet, I quietly padded to the kitchen.

I pushed the door open carefully, not wanting to wake Mom. Switching on the light, I spotted a food warmer on the counter. Mom must have left me something to eat.

I smiled and grabbed a plate and spoon. The rich aroma of lobster rolls filled the air, making my stomach growl impatiently.

I sat at the kitchen island and started eating. But just as I took my second bite, a loud crashing noise from the living room made me freeze.

Heart pounding, I grabbed a knife from the counter and cautiously moved towards the noise. The knife slipped from my hand as my eyes widened in horror.

“L-Luca?”

He was lying on the floor, clutching his stomach, his face smeared with blood. I rushed to him, careful not to scream and wake Mom. Dropping to my knees, I lifted his head onto my lap.

“What the hell happened to you?” I demanded, panic rising in my chest.

He groaned in response.

Struggling, I helped him up to my room and laid him on my bed. Running to the bathroom, I grabbed a clean towel and a bowl of water, returning to clean the blood off his face.

When he winced and clutched his stomach, I urged him to take off his shirt. My breath hitched at the sight of his bruised ribs.

“What the hell is this, Luca?” I choked on a sob.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he muttered.

My tears fell freely as I slapped his arm, glaring at him.

“Are you stupid, Luca? How can I not worry when you come home like this in the middle of the night?” He groaned, peeking at me.

“Angel, please don’t cry. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“And now you’re lying to me?” I snapped. “Tell me the truth, Luca.”

Sighing, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. I unfolded it, my eyes widening.

“A check for twenty thousand dollars?” I whispered in shock.

I looked at him, fear creeping in. “Luca, how did you get this money? Tell me you’re not into drugs… or kidnapping… or sleeping with rich old women!”

He rolled his eyes.

“And you think I’d still be alive? Please. Before I could even consider it, that woman we call mother would have a vision, then force me into fasting to prevent ‘evil spirits’ from taking over my life.”

Despite my worry, I laughed through my tears. But my amusement faded as reality sank in.

“Be serious, Luca. Where did you get this money?” He scratched his forehead, avoiding my gaze.

“Luca,” I warned.

He sighed. “Fine… I gambled.”

My heart nearly stopped.

“WHAT?”

“I had to do something to help!”

“And gambling was your best idea?!”

“At least it’s twenty thousand dollars, right?” He looked at me hopefully.

I sighed, shaking my head.

"That’s not the issue, Luca. Your life is more important than money.”

💮 Luca 💮

“That’s not the issue, Luca. Your life is more important to me than money.”

“But it matters to Mom,” I countered.

She fell silent.

“I know that, Luca, but there are better ways to do this. I don’t want your reputation destroyed, and I don’t want people coming after you.”

I stared at her in disbelief. I really couldn’t believe this woman.

“Says the lady who decided to be a stripper to help her family,” I shot back. She didn’t respond. I knew I had her this time.

I knew how much she loved us—enough to sacrifice her pride, to carry the weight of shame just to make sure Mom and I were okay. But I wanted to prove that I loved her just as much. I’d go to any length to make sure she and Mom had the life they deserved. I wanted her to stop stripping.

“I-I’ll go get you something to eat,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. I sighed as she left the room.

When she returned, she fed me, making sure I finished every bite.

“Now you can sleep,” she said once I drank the juice she brought.

I pouted but obeyed her.

"Where are you going to sleep, Angel?” She gave me a look like I had asked the dumbest question in the world.

“Obviously, I’m sleeping in my bed. You don’t expect me to walk all the way to your room, do you? Besides, we shared a bed when we were little.”

“We’re adults now, sis,” I pointed out.

She rolled her eyes while adjusting the pillow behind my back.

Having an overprotective, overly caring, and dramatic sister came with its downsides—like her making a big deal out of the smallest things. It’s not like I got shot or stabbed. It was just a few bruises on my ribs, and she was acting like I should be bedridden.

“I’m well aware that we’re not kids anymore,” she said, folding her arms. “But it’s not like you’re going to try and sleep with your sister.”

I grimaced, mirroring her expression.

“Ew,” I spat.

“Exactly. So, good night.” She switched off the lights and climbed onto her side of the bed. I lay there for a while, staring at her back, guilt gnawing at me.

I’m sorry for lying to you, sis. But everything I’m doing is because I love you and Mom. I just want to give you both the life you deserve.

I smiled as I thought about our playful banter. That’s how it had always been between us—childish, lighthearted, despite everything we were going through.

Ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs, I got up and carefully made my way to her side of the bed. Sitting at the edge, I took her soft hand in mine. She was already fast asleep.

I wondered how she always managed to fall asleep so quickly and so deeply.

Lifting her hand to my lips, I placed a gentle kiss on her fingers.

“I love you, sis,” I whispered. “And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to cry again.”

Leaning down, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before going back to my side of the bed.