“Hello?”
Familiar. Too familiar.
“Who… are you? Why are you helping me?”
A pause. Then the voice replied softly, almost with a smile. “It’s James.”
My breath caught. James. My childhood best friend. The man who once stood by me when no one else did. The man I had rejected because my foolish heart chose Oliver.
I did everything for Oliver when someone could do a lot for me. I even invested in Oliver’s failing company, pushing him upward, and forgot about my career—only to be discarded, locked away in a house, invisible, when he finally thrived.
“James…” My chest ached with the weight of the name.
“How are you?” His tone was gentle, but underneath it, I heard pain. “I heard what happened. Do you want to come with me, then?”
“Come… with you?” My voice was a whisper, hesitant.
“Yes. Divorce him. Leave that life. Be with me.” His words were steady, resolute. “I swear, Candice, no one will hurt you again.”
Tears pricked my eyes. My heart trembled. Could I? After decades of servitude, humiliation, betrayal—could I take his hand now?
“Yes,” I whispered finally. “Yes… I want that. Pick me up in four days.”
“Four days,” he promised. “I’ll come. And I’ll never let you go again.”
When the call ended, I clutched the phone to my chest, tears streaming. For the first time in years, I felt… hope.
But in the days that followed, not once did Oliver or Jackson or even Beatrice visit me. Not a single flower, not a word, not even a glance.
When I was finally discharged, I returned home to find the house littered with remnants of a party—empty glasses, food crumbs, decorations drooping. They had celebrated while I was dying.
I stepped over the mess, heading toward my room, when a voice snapped.
“Where the hell are you going?” Jackson.
He stood in the doorway, his face hard. “Since you’re here, clean this up.”
I froze. “No. I’m tired.”
He scoffed. “So what?”
“I’m your mother.”
Jackson laughed bitterly. “Mother? Don’t make me laugh. You’re more of a maid than a mother. Now clean it.” He tossed a towel at me. “And don’t forget the laundry. Our clothes are piling up.”
The towel landed at my feet, heavy as my shame.
I bent down, picking it up slowly. My heart screamed, but my lips only whispered to myself, Just a few more days. And I’ll be gone.