“So is Alice,” Dad said softly. The room shifted. For the first time all night, twenty-two pairs of eyes landed on me.
Dad turned to face me. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and pulled the hem of his dress shirt up just enough to reveal the thick, red, healing surgical scar on his abdomen.
“Natalie planned a party,” Dad said, his voice thick with emotion. “But Alice gave me her flesh. Alice gave me her blood. She went into surgery alone, woke up alone, and has been drowning in medical debt because her own mother refused to help her while funding a fraudulent gala for the daughter who couldn’t even be bothered to take a blood test.”
Tears, hot and unstoppable, finally spilled over my cheeks. I hadn’t cried from the pain of the surgery, and I hadn’t cried from the isolation. But being seen—truly seen—by the man whose life I had saved broke the dam.
“I told you in the hospital that I was going to make this right, Alice,” Dad said. He reached into his jacket again and slid a thick manila envelope down the table until it stopped in front of me. “Inside that envelope is the deed to the suburban house Natalie currently lives in. I own it. As of this morning, it belongs to you. You can move in, or you can evict them and sell it to pay off your medical bills. It’s your choice.”
Natalie let out a strangled, hysterical sob. “Dad, you can’t do that! Where are we going to live?!”
“You have a lot bigger problems than housing, Natalie,” Dad said coldly. “I handed the auditor’s report over to the state attorney general’s charity fraud division three hours ago. I also terminated your employment at Jordan Medical Supply, effective immediately.”
He looked at my mother, who had sunk back into her chair, her face buried in her hands.
“My lawyers will contact yours on Monday, Claire,” he added.
Dad didn’t wait for a response. He walked around the large table, ignoring the stunned, open-mouthed stares of our relatives. He stopped beside my chair and held out his hand.
“I’m tired, Alice,” he said, his eyes soft as they met mine. “Would you take me home?”
I wiped my face, stood up, and took his hand. I didn’t look at my mother. I didn’t look at my sister, who was now weeping loudly into her husband’s shoulder. I smoothed down my navy dress, making sure the top of my scar was perfectly visible, and walked out of Ashford Hall with my father.
We left the golden child in the ruins of her own making, and for the first time in my thirty-one years, I was exactly where I belonged.
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