Chapter 2
Audrey's POV
I came home from Brooklyn that night burning with fever.
But I didn't have time to fall apart.
Lily's asthma had flared up with the cold snap. I sat beside her bed all night, listening to her breathe — short, shallow breaths, each one tightening something in my chest.
Around three in the morning, she stirred and tugged at my sleeve. "Mommy," she whispered, "why didn't Daddy come see me today?"
I stroked her hair. "He's busy, baby."
"Does he not like me anymore?"
"Of course he does." I held her little hand in both of mine. My hands were trembling. "Daddy loves you. Always."
She drifted back to sleep after that.
I stayed up until sunrise.
Daniel never came home. He didn't call once. Not even to ask about his daughter.
I was at the stove the next morning — still running a fever, barely standing — stirring oatmeal for Lily when the front door swung open.
Daniel walked in. With Lydia right behind him.
I set down the spoon. "What is she doing here?"
"This is my house too." He tossed his coat on the couch without looking at me. "I don't need to clear it with you. Lydia's heat is out and she's pregnant — she can't be freezing in there. She'll take the guest room for a few days."
"No." I didn't move. "This is my home. Mine and Lily's. She is NOT staying here. Both of you — get out."
"Watch your tone, Audrey." He crossed the kitchen in three strides and yanked the spoon out of my hand, hurling it into the sink. "You think you have any leverage here? I can freeze every card you have by tomorrow morning. My lawyers will strip you clean. Don't push me."
Lydia stepped forward and touched his arm. "Daniel, really — it's okay. This is my fault. I'll just go to a hotel—"
"You're not going anywhere." He kept his eyes on me. "And there's something else I need to handle."
He reached into his briefcase and dropped a document on the kitchen table.
"Sign it."
I looked down.
Cemetery Plot Transfer Agreement.
"What is this?"
"Lydia's grandfather passed last week in LA. He was a World War II veteran — his dying wish was to be buried at St. Jude's here in New York." His voice was completely flat, like he was closing a deal. "There's one plot left. The one your mother is in. I've already arranged to have her remains moved to Evergreen Cemetery in Queens. I'll cover the fees. Done this week."
I stared at him.
"...Say that again."
"Your mother's grave. We move her to Queens. Free up the St. Jude's plot for Lydia's grandfather. That's it."
That plot — I had spent four years saving up for it. Four years.
My mother had cleaned office buildings her whole life. Secondhand clothes. The cheapest apartments she could find. Not a single easy day. The only thing I had ever given her was that spot at St. Jude's — quiet, clean, south-facing, full of afternoon sun.
I'd been to Evergreen exactly once. Rows of cheap headstones crammed together, names carved shallow and crooked, half of them already fading.
They wanted to dig my mother up. And put her there.
"Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" I grabbed the document and tore it apart. The pieces scattered across his face. "That is my MOTHER'S grave. You want to dig her up — for THIS WOMAN'S family?! What the hell is WRONG with you?!"
CRACK.
His hand caught my face so hard I slammed back into the kitchen island. My mouth filled with blood. My ears rang.
"Your mother was a cleaning lady." He stood over me, voice dead calm. "The only reason she got into St. Jude's is because of MY money. Lydia's grandfather served this country. He belongs there. Evergreen is fine. Plenty of room. So what exactly is your problem?"
"Audrey."
Joel's voice. I turned.
My brother was walking through the front door with a paper bag in his hand — pastries, by the look of it. For Lydia, obviously. He glanced at the blood on my lip and sighed, like I was the one being unreasonable.
"Look, Audrey. She's gone. Does it really matter where she's buried? I mean, the man was a veteran — a World War II veteran. You really gonna make this about a grave? Just let him rest somewhere that means something. Come on."
I looked at all three of them.
And then I started laughing.
It didn't last long before the tears came.
So this was it. My dignity. My limits. My dead mother's resting place. None of it meant a damn thing to them. My husband and my own brother, standing in my kitchen, willing to go THIS far — all just to keep HER happy.
"I'm not signing." I wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand. "Don't even think about it."
Daniel's expression didn't flicker. "Then Lily doesn't go to Switzerland. The clinic runs two hundred thousand for the full treatment. I pull my support, that's it. And I'll have your accounts frozen by end of day."
"You're using our DAUGHTER'S health to blackmail me?!" I grabbed his collar.
He shoved me away like I weighed nothing. Straightened his tie.
"You're the one gambling with her life," he said. "Three days, Audrey. You sign, or you stay home and watch her struggle to breathe. Your call."
He put his arm around Lydia, nodded at Joel, and the three of them headed upstairs. Their voices drifted down — quiet at first, then laughter.
I slid down onto the kitchen floor. The tiles were ice-cold through my clothes.
On the stove, the oatmeal was still bubbling. Like nothing had happened at all.
I wrapped my arms around myself and pressed my nails into my palms.
For Lily, I could take anything. I had always believed that.
But right now, for the first time — I wasn't so sure.
