Chapter 3

Within minutes, three security guards arrived and dragged a screaming Tyler and his thugs out of the clinic area.

Before he was pushed out, Tyler pointed a finger at me and roared:

"Chloe! Just you wait! This isn't over. I will destroy your reputation!"

I thought the drama would stop for the day.

But right after my lunch break, I went down to the main lobby to pick up some files.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I heard a loud, pathetic wailing.

Tyler had pushed Margaret in her wheelchair right in front of the main reception desk, where the foot traffic was heaviest.

Margaret was wiping tears, grabbing the clothes of random patients passing by, and crying:

"Everyone, look at this! We were so poor back then, but I worked day and night to pay for her Ivy League tuition!"

"Now that she's a successful doctor, she won't even pay a dime for my treatment. She's throwing her own mother onto the streets!"

Several young nurses frowned, turning their eyes away to avoid looking at me when I walked past.

The Chief of Medicine, Dr. Reynolds, happened to be walking by. He pulled me into a quiet corner of the hallway.

"Chloe, this is your promotion year, and the board thinks very highly of you."

"But having your family cause this kind of scene in the lobby is extremely bad for our image."

He had a weary, peace-keeping expression on his face as he said:

"At the end of the day, she is still your mother."

"Why don't you just pay some money and make this go away? Why make things so ugly?"

I looked him in the eye and refused immediately:

"Dr. Reynolds, giving in to people like them once will only make them greedier next time."

Dr. Reynolds sighed, shook his head, and walked away.

A few nurses were whispering, glancing at their phones and then looking back at me.

I checked my phone and realized Tyler had posted my old college admission photo in the patient-community group on Snapchat.

He had added a caption full of lies: "This doctor is letting her own mother die just to protect her career."

The comments were racking up fast, with strangers calling me a monster.

I didn't run away. Instead, I walked straight toward Margaret's wheelchair in the center of the lobby.

Thinking I was finally breaking, Tyler held out his hand with a smug grin.

"Thought it through? Give me the cash."

I ignored him entirely. I pulled out a few pages of old bank statements and transaction records from my bag.

These were the documents I had carefully saved since that summer eight years ago.

I unfolded the papers and spoke loudly, my voice echoing across the lobby:

"Since everyone is so interested, let's hear the truth about how she 'worked day and night' to send me to college."

"Freshman year, September 1st. Margaret Vance transferred exactly $211 into my account."

"October 1st, $211. November 1st, $211. She did this for four years straight. Not a single penny more, and not a single penny less."

The lobby fell dead silent. The whispering nurses stared in shock.

That amount of money couldn't even cover a week's worth of basic groceries, let alone textbooks or rent.

I flipped to the next page and raised my voice:

"Also during my freshman year, September 10th. Margaret Vance transferred $21,000 to my brother Tyler's account. The transaction note read: 'For Tyler's new motorcycle.'"

"On October 15th, she transferred another $5,000. Note: 'Tyler's birthday present.'"

I slammed the copies hard onto the armrest of Margaret's wheelchair.

"Mrs. Vance, back then you told everyone that because I was a girl, I only deserved $211 a month, and that all the money had to be saved for your precious son."

I bent down, staring straight into her shifting, guilty eyes.

"I am now giving you $211 a month as an 'appreciation fee.' Don't you think I'm being incredibly generous?"

Nobody in the lobby said a word. The nurses who had been whispering turned red and looked down.

Margaret lowered her head, trying to stammer an excuse:

"But... but I worked hard for that money! The family was poor back then..."

"Poor enough to spend over twenty-six thousand dollars on a motorcycle and birthday gifts for a son who flunked out of high school?" I scoffed.

The crowd gasped.

Seeing that no one was taking their side anymore, Tyler lost his temper. He lunged forward and shoved my shoulder hard.

"Shut up! You're just a heartless, ungrateful bitch!"

I took half a step back, pointed at the security camera right above us, and said:

"The cameras are rolling, Tyler. Touch me again, and I'll have the police arrest you for assaulting hospital staff. Let's see how you like spending a few days in a cell."

Tyler's hand froze mid-air. He grit his teeth and slowly backed down.