Chapter 4

My mother set the bowl of stew down in front of me, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Baby, eat this. Once you finish, Mom and Dad will forgive you."

The steam curled up into my nostrils.

I heaved, and a mouthful of blood shot out of me, straight across my mother's face.

"Zoey—Zoey, what's wrong, you're scaring me—"

By the time they got me to the hospital, it was a different kind of emergency.

The doctor looked at the scans, then at my chart, and closed his eyes for a second.

"Why didn't you bring her in earlier? This child has a matter of days left. If there's anything she wants, give it to her now."

My father grabbed the doctor's sleeve. "What do you mean, a matter of days?"

The doctor's face softened with pity.

"Your daughter is in the final stage of stomach cancer."

"And based on what I've seen—she was also sexually assaulted recently."

My father cut him off, roaring. "What kind of idiot hospital is this? You people don't know what you're doing!"

"Money is nothing to me. We're transferring her to the best hospital in the country!"

The doctor kept looking at him with the same quiet pity. Probably wondering if the shock had made him delusional.

My cancer had been caused by years of eating contaminated food and severe malnutrition.

Other than the swollen belly from the ascites, there was almost nothing left of me but bones.

The clothes they'd brought me in were patched and faded. Any doctor would have assumed I came from nothing.

One of the other doctors pulled mine aside.

"Don't feel sorry for him. That man is the CEO of Harrington Industries. He doesn't need your pity."

A nurse nearby started whispering.

"Wait—isn't Mr. Harrington the guy who just bought his daughter an eight-hundred-million-dollar yacht?"

"Yeah. I know a girl who works at Harrington. Apparently that one's the adopted daughter."

"The one in bed… is the biological one."

"He bought an eight-hundred-million yacht for his adopted kid and let his own daughter starve herself into cancer?"

"There is something seriously wrong with that man."

"Shh. Don't say it so loud."

My mother heard every word. She swayed once, then collapsed on the floor.

When I opened my eyes again, my parents were sitting by my bed, watching me like strangers desperate for forgiveness.

My mother's eyes were red and swollen. She tried for a smile.

"Zoey? You're awake?"

"Is there anything you want to eat? Mom will get it."

My father cleared his throat and did his best to sound gentle.

"Anything, sweetheart. Tell Daddy what you want. I'll buy it for you."

I swept my eyes around the hospital suite. It was three times the size of our house.

"We can't afford this room."

My mother's tears spilled over.

"Zoey, your father is the CEO of Harrington Industries."

"We have plenty of money. Don't worry about the cost. Just focus on getting better."

Pain twisted through my stomach. I kept my voice level.

"I know. I saw you on the day Mr. Harrington bought Lila a yacht."

"I was washing dishes at that club."

My father remembered the plate of chicken bones. The color drained from his face.

"How much did you see?"

"Is Mr. Harrington feeling guilty about the bones a dog chewed on?"

"Don't bother. Bones from a dog's bowl and scraps out of a dumpster—there's not much difference, really."

His eyes went red. "Zoey, I know you're angry. But that wasn't what I meant. That wasn't what I wanted."

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Daddy will buy it. Houses, cars, yachts—anything my daughter wants."

I stared up at the white ceiling. My voice came out empty.

"The club owes me a hundred dollars for the shift I worked. Go get my wages for me."

After they left, I smoothed the blanket carefully. I took out the bottle of weedkiller I'd been hiding.

I drank it down.

This bed is so soft.

Goodnight, world.